Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Unfortunately, that one statement led an ill-informed person, who went out of his/her way to create an Open ID since I no longer accept anonymous comments, to believe that the only food I provide for my children is high-calorie junk food.
Here's the repulsive comment, which I deleted, written by "BFF"...
Well good maybe you can start feeding your overweight, what 5 year old some healthy food. Instead of fighting her brother for the last bagel for breakfast she can fight over the last banana. Shame on you for letting your child become this overweight. Have you checked out her arms in the pis you posted? Or her thighs on the beach in your header? Seriously?
You can pick on me...say what you want to say about me...think what you want to think about me...but when you pick on one of MY KIDS, that's where I draw the line.
Since "BFF" chose to hide behind a poorly chosen acronym, thus leaving me no way to personally contact him/her via e-mail, I felt compelled to address him/her here on my blog.
Will he/she come back to read this? I have a feeling the answer is yes, since this person took the time to go through my archives in order to make reference to this post.
While Bella does fall into the higher percentile in terms of her weight, she is far from the level of obesity of some other children. In fact, at her last check-up, her pediatrician was very happy with her measurements. He has stressed that the goal is NOT for her to lose weight but to maintain her weight as she hits various growth spurts, which will even her out in terms of height-weight ratio.
As far as what she eats, Bella doesn't eat any differently than her siblings. We make sure all the kids eat at least 5 servings of fruit/vegetables per day and we are careful about portion size.
None of my children sit around eating donuts, cake and candy all day long. Occasionally, they get to eat Apple Jacks for breakfast, along with a glass of milk and a piece of fruit. Last time I checked, half of a whole-grain, high-fiber bagel wasn't considered "junk" food.
Bella also gets plenty of exercise, whether it be riding bikes up to the neighborhood park or running around the backyard with her siblings. She's not a sedentary couch potato laying on the sofa for hours, while eating a bowl of chips.
"BFF" asked if I had “checked out” Bella's arms in the pictures included in yesterday's post. The answer is no….I don’t obsessively scour my children’s pictures looking for what others may consider as bodily imperfections.
However, since you asked, I looked at the following 2 pictures which were posted yesterday and her arms look absolutely fine to me.
If you are referring to her RIGHT arm, that's not fat you see…it’s scar tissue, for your information, from an ulcerated hemangioma. The skin that is hanging down from the bend of her arm is nothing more than extra skin which was stretched-out beyond it’s elasticity when the hemangioma grew at an alarmingly fast rate.
Here’s a picture that I took recently at the park, which shows the stretched-out skin on her right arm a little more clearly.
Since you seem to be lacking in knowledge, as well as tact and sensitivity, let me explain. Her hemangioma started out as a dime-sized spot on her arm at birth. When she was 26 days old, it had grown so quickly that it covered her entire bicep, as well as a small part of her forearm, which you can see in the picture directly below.
The following picture shows what it looked like when she was 2 months old, as it began to ulcerate…
From that point, it continued to ulcerate to the point where her muscle was exposed.
I won’t post the rest of the pictures because they are rather graphic but here’s a link to an online photo album, should you be interested in looking.
If you even dare to think for a minute that we could have prevented this from happening, you’d be wrong, once again. On the contrary, we desperately tried to stay one step ahead at all times with the sole purpose of preventing it from getting any worse than it already was.
We were at our pediatrician’s office practically on a daily basis, including both Thanksgiving and Christmas morning, as we attempted to get the constant bleeding under control.
Our precious baby girl endured laser treatments, steroid shots directly into the ulcerated hemangioma, numerous cauterizations…she was in constant pain and spent most of her days doped up on tylenol with codeine to ease her discomfort.
I spent hours researching various treatments which might have helped and, in the end, happened to stumble upon a miracle drug that finally worked to control the bleeding.
In addition, we consulted with various out-of-town professionals, two in particular being Dr. John Reinisch and Dr. Ilona Frieden, both well-reknown surgeons specializing in children with vascular tumors.
Due to the extent of the scarring, no amount of surgery will ever fully repair the cosmetic damage caused by the hemangioma. The extra skin that sags beneath her elbow can be removed at any time if she chooses, however.
Believe it or not, cosmetic issues and physical appearance weren’t necessarily a priority when we were considering she might have lost the use of her arm after the hemangioma ulcerated down to the muscle.
And you know what? Upon several surgical consults, Bella told us she doesn’t want to undergo cosmetic surgery. She likes her arm the way it is and she’s happy with the reflection she sees of herself when she looks in the mirror.
If her desire to have surgery changes as she gets older, we’ll support her in every way possible.
What makes Bella even more special is her resilience and her lovable spirit . She’s often approached by other children who are curious about what has happened to her arm and she explains it to the best of her ability, often saying, “That’s where I was kissed by an angel”.
In your comment, you wrote how I should be ashamed of myself. No, I think YOU should be ashamed of YOURSELF for picking on an innocent child who has more courage than you ever will.
People with your attitude and ignorance are the reason why we have young teenagers starving themselves or binging and purging…all so they can exhibit how they think they’re expected to look by jerks such as yourself.
Those are the girls with low self-esteem which you should be concerned about…not a sweet, precious FIVE year old child, who happens to have a little extra baby fat on her thighs!
Please know that my issue is not the fact that you expressed your opinion and thoughts on the matter. My problem is the MANNER in which you chose to express those thoughts. You were callous, disrespectful and presumptuous.
I appreciate your concern about my daughter’s weight but it’s well under control. Now that you’ve been assured of that, perhaps your time would be better spent looking deep within yourself to figure out why you are so superficially bent on physical appearances.
I can only pray that if you have children of your own and/or work on a daily basis with young, impressionable children that you are not as judgmental or cruel to them as you have been to my daughter.
Upon reading your comment this morning, I could not stop myself from shaking with rage, after being reduced to nothing more than a heaping pile of bitter tears. I’m not ashamed to admit that I let your comment get under my skin…any caring, protective mother would have felt the same way.
I’ve stewed in anger all day over this. However, now I’m finally letting it go…I NEED to let it go.
I’ve wasted enough energy today on someone who’s so obviously shallow and not even worth a bit of the salt in my tears.
Monday, March 29, 2010
I had read about Curious Chef, a company whose tagline is “real kitchen utensils for small hands” and immediately contacted them to ask if I could review one of their products.
They graciously sent me their 8-piece fruit and vegetable set, which included a small cutting board, silicon mixing spatula, fruit and vegetable peeler, melon baller, apple corer, nylon plastic knife and a vegetable scrubber.
Within 5 minutes of opening the package and washing the utensils, the kids were in the fridge picking various colored fruits to make a delicious fruit salad. The Wiggles would’ve been proud.
They sat around their little table, dividing up their responsibilities.
Bella was in charge of coring the apple…
Cole was in charge of slicing the strawberries…
Garrett was responsible for picking the grapes off the bunches of stems, as well as stirring the fruit in the bowl with the spatula…
Landon chose to oversee the project…keeping everyone in line and making sure no one snuck any bites of food before the salad was done (HELLO, Garrett….)
They worked together so well…I know, I was shocked too.
And when they were all done, we had a beautiful fresh fruit salad…YUM!
They loved the Curious Chef utensils, as did I. Each item was sized perfectly for their small hands. And not once did I have to yell, “Wait…don’t touch that!”
Of course, they needed to be supervised but, at the same time, all the utensils were child-friendly so it wasn’t nearly as stressful as it is when I’m using my “grown-up” kitchen utensils.
And the best part….they were so proud of themselves, having made their very own snack from start to finish.
Not to mention how thrilled I was that they were enjoying a HEALTHY snack!
The next day, the kids insisted on making the salad to go with our dinner…using their 8-piece fruit and vegetable set, of course.
I have a feeling we’re going to be eating a lot more healthfully from now on!
You can purchase Curious Chef products at local retailers or online.
Thank you to Curious Chef for providing me with a sample product to review. This review is based solely on my personal opinion and experience.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Need some examples?
-- When I was in true labor with Cole and Bella, he sat across from my hospital bed eating a hot meatball sandwich from Subway...all the while I'm writhing in pain with each agonizing contraction, my sister is trying to help me focus on breathing and my brother-in-law is attempting to convince me that the pain is only temporary.
Tim swears even to this day that he had NO idea I was in THAT much pain. Apparently, I was supposed to make a formal announcement to let him know that my insides were being tortured as my body prepared to give life to HIS children.
-- He never believes me when it comes to dangerous situations. I know danger when I see it, trust me. I lived in Miami for a few years.
Remember the whole "psycho killer" debacle, where I was absolutely convinced that there was an ax murderer outside of our house, playing with the breakers and he wouldn't believe me....until we had solid proof of it.
And the time he left one of the kids at the top of a waterfall all by herself, where she had to fend off hungry vultures and angry mountain lions.
Okay, so there weren't any mountain lions or vultures but there COULD HAVE been...and that was my point.
-- When preparing our taxes last year, he claimed to have never realized that my middle name was Jan. Oh, but wait...it gets worse. He also claimed he didn't know I had been born in New Hampshire.
I punished him by challenging him to a test where he had to answer questions about how well he knew me. He passed....barely.
Actually, maybe this particular example has less to do with naivete and has more to do with POOR listening skills.
-- He had no first date etiquette whatsoever. People, I'm not kidding when I tell you this and please feel free to shake your head and exclaim, "Oh no, he didn't!" when you read this.
The first time we met was on a blind date at Chili's. He ordered the chicken fried chicken, which was one of his all-time favorite meals. Immediately after cutting up his chicken, the dude licked the gravy off his knife. Let me repeat again...HE LICKED THE GRAVY OFF HIS FREAKIN KNIFE!! I mean, who does that...especially on a FIRST date?!
It was almost an instant deal breaker.
However, he agreed to add, "And I promise to never, ever lick any of my utensils at the dinner table again so long as we both shall live" to his wedding vows.
Okay, that last part isn't really true but now that I think about it, I should've had him make that promise because his poor table etiquette still continues to this very day.
Want to share something about your husband, boyfriend, girlfriend, wife, or parter in crime...link up with Deb at Menopausal Mom and/or Lee at Headaches, Hormones and Hotflashes for "My husband is so...."
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Heather, the woman behind TMC, is Amazing. No, that's not a typo ...she is Amazing, with a capital A. Not only is Heather one of the sweetest and friendliest bloggers out there, she started TMC as a way to encourage other bloggers to mix and mingle.
Welcome to any newbies stopping by via TMC...so glad you took the time to visit! Let me give you a little bit of background...for those of you who read my blog regularly, stop rolling your eyes. Stick around...maybe I'll surprise you with a juicy secret that I've never shared before.
Almost 15 years ago, I met my husband, Tim, on a blind date. This was before the days of internet dating...oh wow, I totally just dated myself. My kids once asked me if I ever had a dinosaur as a pet when I was their age. I'm not THAT old, for crying out loud. I tried hard not to be offended.
We dated for 7 long, eventful years...many ups and downs, with him hemming and hawing over whether or not he could handle the commitment of marriage. And just as my uterus and ovaries were ready to pack their bags and head down to Boca Raton with plans to retire, he popped the question.
Here we are on our wedding day...
So, while my uterus was overjoyed at the prospect of a new houseguest or two, my ovaries, however, found the idea of retirement too alluring to pass up. I tried coaxing them out of their journey of solitude with a little bit of Clomid and a whole lot of baby-making sex. No such luck....
By this point, I was done with being cordial...it was time to get aggressive and my ovaries weren't given any more friendly options. They'd have to cooperate, whether they liked it or not.
We embarked on the adventure of a lifetime or, as some people refer to it, IVF. I was excited...Tim was nervous...our bank account was drained.
I spent a lot of time pushing a bunch of long-ass needles into my belly, as well as my butt cheeks, while Tim anxiously hurried through the ONE thing that was required of him...a couple visits to the Spank Tank.
I tried my best to sympathize with him...I truly did. Offering encouragement, I would say, "I totally understand how difficult this is for you....just do your best. Oh, and make sure you get it all in the cup, okay? Love you".
That last part about "getting it all in the cup" was really just for the nurse's benefit, as she had already given Tim the same warning.
I tried to lighten up the situation by saying, "Hey, do you think maybe the nurses go in to the Spank Tank after hours, armed with those CSI ultra-violet lights to examine the walls for semen spatter...I mean, really...why would they tell you to make sure to get it ALL in the cup. Someone obviously had issues with bad aim."
Poor Tim, right? The last thing he needed was me joking about something so serious. BUT if I learned anything through our struggle with infertility, it was that having a sense of humor was an absolute MUST. You can either cry while enduring it or you can laugh your way through it...I chose to laugh, most of the time anyway.
It took us 3 IVF's, 1 miscarriage and a whole lot of hard-earned money to finally conceive our 1st set of twins, Cole and Bella. They were well worth every minute of it, too.
Our 2nd set of twins, Garrett and Landon, came along when we least expected a miracle of that multitude. After having suffered through 2 more miscarriages and another IVF cycle (a frozen embryo transfer), we had given up the dream of having more children.
But the sun, moon and stars must have been perfectly aligned on THAT one night when Tim's parents offered to babysit Cole and Bella and we went out for dinner, got drunk on wine and engaged in some intimate activities...
...right at the exact same time when my disgruntled ovaries decided to kick out the very last 2 eggs which they had claimed custodial rights over a long long time ago.
And that, my friends, is how we ended up with TWO sets of twins. The title of my blog says it all, right?
Of course, I'm leaving a lot of the little bitty details out for the sake of your brain being able to process all this information...and I'm also leaving out that one deep, dark secret which I might have made reference to in the beginning of this post. I'll reveal it someday...when the time is right.
Now, Cole and Bella are 5 years old and enjoying their first year of school in kindergarten. Garrett and Landon are 3 years old and I'm having the time of my life with them. I hate that time is going by so quickly and that they are all literally growing up before my very eyes. Such is life, though...I've been assured that the teenage years are challenging so I'm savoring their childhood as much as I can now.
Anyway, if you've read this far, I truly appreciate it. Tim says I chatter too much...I'm afraid he may be right.
If you have more time to kill and need a good laugh, feel free to check out some of my favorite posts...
Yeah, that's just a little bit awkward (The most humiliating ultrasound exam EVER)
Memo to the Bosses (A letter I wrote to my kids, with the hopes of renogiating my parental contract)
The whole truth about what men REALLY want in a marital partner (This is where I translate "man talk" for you)
Reverse psychology...would it really work? (Tired of the kids ignoring you when you warn them not to touch the hot stove? Read this!)
For the newbies to my blog, I hope you'll be back again! Make sure to leave a comment so I know you stopped by...and, that way, I can make a visit to your blog to get to know you better too!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Everything about it spells “relaxation” to me...the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the scent of sea salt in the air, palm trees swaying in the breeze, the softness of the sand under my feet and the squeals of hungry seagulls soaring above.
Is Tim a fan of the beach? Not so much. He hates the messiness of the sand, the sun is NOT his friend and he has a tremendous fear of sharks.
As if sharks can crawl their way onto the shore? Whatever....
So I figured it was time to bring the tropical oasis TO me. Now, let me just put it out there and say, we did not hire a professional landscaper…just act surprised, okay?
Remember that friend who came over and helped clean our house before the party a couple weeks ago? That same friend came over and helped me dig holes for the trees!
How do you repay a friend who has helped you so much? I tried to give her my first-born but she refused. She asked for the third-born instead but I’m kind of attached to him.
I’m still nowhere near finished…we still have to add shredded bark, more shrubs and a small waterfall but it’s coming along nicely.
I was hoping to put plumerias around the palm trees but no such luck finding any…so I settled for marigolds, which the kids named.
I just love the look of the palm trees! The yard already looks so much better…and I love the sound of the leaves blowing in the wind.
If I close my eyes for just a minute, I can transcend myself to a deserted island beach…and then I’m quickly snapped back to reality when I hear, “Mommy, Bella put her butt on my pillow so you need to wash it”.
Oh, and no earthworms were harmed at any point during this backyard renovation.
Bella was on patrol taking note of each and every earthworm that was uncovered, Cole and Landon were responsible for moving the earthworms to safer ground, and Garrett was the one screaming “eeewww, gross” the whole time.
If you’re wondering about the bathroom remodel…well, that’s come to a screeching halt.
Why, you ask? It’s simple.
Tim no longer has a deadline. We were trying to rush to get it done before Garrett and Landon’s party but Tim barely got the toilet attached to the floor before guests started arriving.
Maybe he’ll have it done by the time Cole and Bella graduate from high school. All in good time, right?
Monday, March 22, 2010
So I'm leaving you with a repeat from way back when...an oldie but goodie.
With summer approaching quickly when the rugrats will be sprung free from their educational responsiblities, this post may actually come in handy for some of you.
Things you don't want to hear from a potential babysitter...
Can you let me know when it's 5:00? That's the time I need to take my Haldol.
I won't be able to work on Wednesdays from 3:00-5:00 because that's the visitation hours at the prison where my boyfriend is. If I can't have the time off, I could always bring the kids with me.
How often do you expect me to take the kids to the park...I have a fear of grass.
I hope you don't mind if I bring my imaginary friend with me.
It's cool if you need me to cook meals for the kids....I'm fascinated with fire.
I'm an expert at changing diapers....I wear them myself sometimes.
Would you mind if my boyfriend came over and helped me with the kids? He used to be a sexual predator but he's over that now.
Do I know CPR? I think so...wasn't he one of the robots in Star Wars?
I'm sorry, I didn't hear you....the devil was talking to me.
I'm not sure if I can work overtime....let me call my parole officer and ask.
I hope it's not an issue that I don't drive....my license was suspended after my 2nd DUI.
Is it okay if I watch "The Girls Next Door" while babysitting because that's totally my favorite show and I simply CANNOT miss an episode?
Do you mind if I use your computer while I'm babysitting.....I like to check how many hits my "adult site" gets every couple hours.
Would you mind paying me in cash every Friday....that way I can just go directly to my dealer's house when I'm done babyitting.
If there's an emergency, I'd just call 911....it's a really great way to meet hot guys.
I usually ask for $10.00 per hour but for an extra $20.00 I could "take care" of your husband too, if you want.
Feel free to check my references....oh, but please don't call my last employer....we ended on bad terms. She was so paranoid about me drinking beer while I watched her kids.
Well, I don't really have a LOT of experience with children but people who know me say I have the maturity of a 9-yr old so that should count for something, right?
As far as discipline, I think all kids need a good ass-whipping every once in awhile. That's what my dad always did with me and look how wonderful I turned out.
Friday, March 19, 2010
After doing some research online and knowing specifically what I wanted in a camera, I purchased the Nikon Coolpix S8000.
Now, let me just say, that I have no talent when it comes to photography. I could read the manual ten times and still have no clue what to do.
The most important features, to me, are being able to catch action shots without the kids looking blurry and I wanted to be able to shoot a picture from a distance but still capture the important details.
This camera does all that….and more.
We took the kids to the park last Sunday and I brought along the camera to take some shots.
When we got home and I had a chance to look at the pictures on my laptop, I gushed to Tim about how amazingly clear, vibrant and detailed the pictures were.
He said, “Geez, sweetie, I’m glad you like the camera but you’re practically having an orgasm over it. It can’t be THAT great.”
“Jealous much?” was all I could manage to say.
Here are just a few of the pictures I took….
I think it's safe to say that I’m in love.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
The summer in between 6th and 7th grade, my parents sent my sister and I away for 4 weeks to a sleep-away camp out in Cleveland, GA. We lived in Florida at the time so going to an entirely different state without our parents struck fear in my heart.
At the time, it seemed like cruel and unusual punishment.
We pleaded with our parents, "But why do you want to send us away for an ENTIRE month?! What did we do wrong?", followed by empty promises like vowing to wash the dishes every single night without complaining, never talking smack to them again...whatever we could think of to get them to change their minds. Unsuccessfully, I might add.
They drove us out to Georgia that first summer away from home, which I suspected was their indirect way of saying, "Look, we love you enough to at least check the camp out with you in person".
I had asked, "So, if we don't like it, you'll let us come home with you?"
My mother howled hysterically while my father tried his best to stifle his laughter. He said, "No, you'll be staying, regardless. If you don't like it, you'll LEARN to like it. Besides, we already paid for it."
My sister and I looked at each other and frowned. If they had already paid for it, we knew there was no way in hell we could get out of going. My father didn't part easily with any of his hard-earned money so any time he wrote a big check, we knew it was a done deal.
What had our mother done to convince him this was in everyone's best interest?
I imagined that she had driven our easy-to-manipulate father out to some remote part of the Everglades one day, smiling cleverly as she revealed, "This is what our summer could be like with the kids gone".
He had probably asked, "What?! I don't hear anything. It's completely quiet."
"That's EXACTLY my point!" she had shouted, I envisioned, with such enthusiasm that even the alligators came out of the swampy sawgrass to see what all the fuss was about.
Then they probably just sat there, smiling like 2 sugar-starved kids who had found themselves locked inside a candy store after hours.
The next 3 summers after that they simply dropped us off at the airport with all the other kids whose parents didn't love them.
Oh, and I should probably mention that 2 of those summers, we were sent away for an entire 8 weeks. EIGHT freakin' WEEKS, people.
The camp counselors could've been ravenous cannibals feasting on young unsuspecting campers, for all they knew.
Our parents just wanted to be rid of two of their most important responsibilities...namely, my sister and I... in which they were burdened with after a couple of occasions of indulging in one too many alcoholic drinks and foolishly believing that drunken sperm couldn't successfully connect with an anxiously awaiting egg.
One summer in particular they pretty much screamed, "Tuck and roll..." as they pulled up to the curb outside the Delta airport terminal and opened the door barely enough for us to jump out before they sped off.
Anyway, so that first summer...we arrived at the camp and I immediately knew I was gonna hate the place. It reminded me of Camp Crystal Lake.
My dad must have been thinking the same thing because the first thing he said was, "Oh, look...they have a lake here. Kind of like the one in Friday the 13th. You probably better make sure you get the top bunk".
I could've sworn I saw a glimmer of evil wash over his face. This was the same father who stood outside my bedroom door repeating that creepy "sssshhhh-sssshhh-ha-ha-ha" sound after I had seen the Friday the 13th movie for the first time....ironically, about a month before we left for camp.
I wasn't above suspecting that he had planned it that way on purpose.
Once my sister and I were settled into our separate cabins, the procreators who casually referred to themselves as "our parents" left. They practically high-5'd each other and ran to their car before we could come chasing after them.
I thought they were absolutely sinister and silently prayed that they would end up with a couple of flat tires at some point during their drive back.
But as it turns out, I fell in love with the place. My fellow campers were amazing, some of them even becoming life-long friends of mine. The counselors turned out to be anything but hungry cannibals and the camp activities were more fun than I could have imagined.
And this, my friends, is where I experienced my first kiss...
His name was Marc and he was from Alabama...I just loved the way his sweet southern accent would roll of his tongue everytime he'd say, "Hey, ya'all". He had beautiful brown eyes and an adorable nose, which was spattered with a light dusting of freckles.
My tummy did flip-flops with excitement the first time he held my hand.
But holding hands can only last for so long, right? Soon enough, as we were walking back to our cabins after one of the night activities, he stopped and turned to face me.
"Oh dear God, he wants to kiss me," I thought, as my heart pounded with a little bit of anticipation and a whole lot of fear.
I had never kissed anyone before. Why hadn't I thought to ask any of my cabinmates how to kiss? Was he going to stick his tongue in my mouth?
The thought made me cringe. I mean, I liked him but not enough to exchange bodily fluids with him. Maybe it would be just a quick, simple kiss...for now, anyway.
I tried to engage him in nervous chatter, with the hopes that he'd get lost in conversation and forget all about the fact that he wanted to kiss me.
"So, the activity tonight was fun, didn't you think?" I asked.
He had shrugged his shoulders and said, "Yeah, I guess". He leaned towards me again, his eyes closed...his mouth partway open.
There was no way I could avoid it. I just had to do it and get it over with. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, after all.
Finally, I leaned in towards him and closed my eyes. His lips met mine and his hands gently caressed my face. He pulled me closer to him, so close that I could feel his heart beating against mine.
Oh no...what was the boy doing?! He was trying to push his tongue into my mouth! I kept my lips sealed as tightly as possible, refusing to let him steal the innocence of my very first kiss.
After a few seconds, which felt like an eternity when holding your breath, we moved away from one another and without saying a word, he walked me back to my cabin. Once there, he gave me a quick peck on the cheek.
I stood outside the cabin, watching him as he walked away... until I could no longer see his reflection in the moonlight beaming down on him.
I'm sure Marc had suspected it had been my first kiss...how could he not? Everything about it had screamed "inexperienced", "disaster" and, let's not forget, "prude".
Could he feel me shaking as he pulled me closer to him? Did the sound of my pounding heart echo in his ears as loudly as it had in my own? Would he go back and report to his cabinmates how dreadful the experience had been?
I played the scene over and over in my head, fantasizing that it had been better than it actually was...when in reality, I had to accept that it had, more than likely, been an embarrassing disappointment for both of us.
That was the last summer I saw Marc. We didn't keep in touch once summer camp was over and we both had returned home.
I did have one picture of him which I had taken of him standing on the sand near the lake...the same lake in which my father had tried to convince me where Jason Voorhees was still lurking while maliciously planning his next bloody attack on some naive, prepubscent campers in the throws of heated passion.
The memory of that first kiss will always have a special place, deep in my heart...right above the spot where I suffer from horrible indigestion every time I recall that disconcerting and ill-fated moment in my life....just one of many moments, in fact.
Monday, March 15, 2010
The party on Saturday for Garrett and Landon went off without a hitch…well, unless you consider the fact that it took me 2 whole days to make the birthday cakes, for Tim to TRY to get the bathroom done (which still isn’t finished but at least the toilet is finally in working order) and to get this house clean enough to not want to die of embarrassment when the guests showed up.
One of my friends came over Friday and stayed until 11:00 pm helping me clean the house…and we’re not talking sweeping here and there. She scrubbed the stairs clean, folded the kids’ laundry, and cleaned our kitchen table.
Now, the kitchen table may not seem like a big deal but, trust me, it was. She looked at the table and looked up at me and said, “You’re gonna put a tablecloth over it, right?”
I looked at her as if she had an extra ear attached to her face. “Uh….no!” I said.
That’s when she broke out the Old English wood polisher and got a work-out scouring off dye stains that Bella left from doing her hair with that damn Crush crap (that explains the pink and blue hair in the last post).
If that’s not a sign of true friendship, I don’t know what is.
Okay, pictures….well, I didn’t take that many because I was using my cell phone but here’s what I managed to get without too much blurriness.
Below, Garrett was attempting to hit the pinata…but all he did was hit the metal canopy and break off the tip of the broom.
Tim caught my eye right when it happened and he whispered to me, “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll make sure to have your broom replaced by the time you need to head back to Oz tomorrow. I wouldn’t want the flying monkeys to worry about you.” Nice.
One of the big kids knocked the pinata down and it took 3 guys to figure out how to put the darn thing back up.
Honestly, I think the guys just liked feeling “needed”.
Finally…candy and toys galore.
Look at them all hunched over scooping up all the goodies…kind of like hungry vultures pouncing on a weary, unsuspecting mouse.
All Garrett got were 2 bags of Nemo gummies…and he was happy the rest of the day.
Here’s the cake I made for Garrett…Toy Story theme all the way.
These are the G-rated pictures.
Once a couple of my friends got a hold of the characters, it quickly turned X-rated.
Warning…close your eyes and scroll down past the picture if you lack a perverted sense of humor.
Woody: Hey Buzz, you wanna know why they call me Woody?
Buzz: Oh, I have a pretty good idea why. Now, get over and take me to infinity and beyond.
Here’s Landon’s Thomas the Train cake…
Just look at all that yummy sugar! It’s one of those cakes that you gain 10 pounds just from looking at it….or is that just me?
Whew…as much as I enjoy parties, I’m SO glad it’s over!
I’ve missed the blogosphere…