When a seemingly good idea goes bad...

So, a couple of times a year I take the older kids to a hotel to swim in an indoor pool (we have an outdoor pool) and do things that would normally cause me to be committed to an institution. Enter President's Day weekend. We haven't done this in several months so everyone was game for an adventure beginning Sunday.

All locations will remain nameless. Well, pretty much nameless. We drink Sprite and have some Cheetos in the car on the way to our first adventure. Because nothing says high fashion like orange stained fingers from those dangerously addictive, additive filled demons known as Cheetos. When we arrive at the the location, I have a feeling there will be issues. Perhaps this is based on the fact that I have just consumed the agent orange or maybe it was the argument I witnessed outside. Apparently, some Dad didn't want to change his child's diaper. And he tells apparent mother of child if she doesn't do it, he is leaving to hang out with Jessie. That was a quote. She begins to cry (ugh!) and asks him not to leave. I was this close to singing a Chicago song, but I didn't. Anyway, we get up to room and change into swimsuits.

Holy caca! Clearly this hotel had been hosting a polar bear swim meet because the pool was so cold, I swear I saw shards of ice in the pool. The kids said they were getting used to the temps even though they bore a striking resemblance to Smurf and Smurfette.  I finally convinced them to get out and told them we could go to a real restaurant.

Bad idea....When we walked in, one of the hostesses was crying. I should have known this would set the tone for the meal but my daughter really wanted to eat there. We are low maintenance when we dine out and were served surprisingly quick. However, half way thru her broccoli, my daughter announces that "she is about to have a bad case of diarrhea." Why are children obsessed with bodily functions and why must they always be mentioned during meal time? My 8 yr old son announces that he doesn't want to go in the girls' restroom because all of the "hot girls are in there." What??? I ask him how does he know hot girls and what exactly constitutes a hot girl? He said "someone 12  or 21 with long, beautiful hair." Note to self... Must hide all magazine covers from him in the future. Anyway, we leave and head back to our room. Unfortunately, we can't get in said room even after the key has been scanned numerous times. Lead engineer is sent up to room with us and he says he is tired because his 9 month old is teething. I smile at him and tell him to look at the giant, dark circles under my eyes because I have not slept in almost 9 years. Really. At this point, I'm not sure what I would do if I slept for a few hours at night.

We check out the next morning and head to a different hotel because this one is not working for us.I notice my daughter is being noticeably quiet. We head to the epicenter of delirium known as Build-A- something. The Michael Buble' music is painful enough but the kids are surprisingly content. Perhaps this was a good idea. However, when it is time to name the bears, my son clearly is a fan of the George Foreman naming convention. Since he was about 2, everything is named Bucky. Big Bucky. Little Bucky. Bucky the third (lineage you know). When I ask what he wants to name his bear he says "Bucky Nigel." Whatever. Meanwhile, my daughter is making me nervous being so quiet. When I ask her what is wrong (other than the fact we are trapped in the overpriced store) she says she is just hungry. Right.We leave with our $40 bears (each of course) and say "Au revoir" to the Buble'. Too bad they don't have a suggestion box. I would have suggested they have an open bar with the a signature cocktail called the "Make it Bearable."

I have seen that look before and it makes me incredibly anxious. As we are walking into the restaurant (as in my hand  is on the door handle) she throws up on the back of my jeans and sweater. But it is outside. She said "Look Mommy. I didn't throw up on myself." Nothing says fresh like puke on the back of your pants. My son says "she is ruining everything and he is just ready to eat." I tell the hostess that "my daughter just threw up right outside the door and they may want to send someone out to spray it off." Nothing says "welcome" to a restaurant like throw up outside the door. The only thing more detrimental to a restaurant than a health department closing is someone puking. Maybe puking on the way out is worse. When we sit down, (and I am planning on this lunch being quick) she announces that she would rather go to Golden Corral because that would settle her stomach. She would just skip the chocolate fountain. Exactly. That is just like the BRAT diet of bread, rice, apples and I have no idea what "t' stands for but I'm sure it is Golden Corral. That is synonymous with light fare. She's only been once. I told her that was a bad idea and tried to ignore the smell of throw up on my leg. I was making a new fashion statement. Eau d'puke.

That's it. Other than that the trip has been uneventful. Maybe we can get our own category on Trip Advisor. Super Fi tells me she feels "stellar" now and is ready to take on the world. I'm just wondering why it is so hot in the room and the thermostat won't let me move it down from 78.

It's Been a While

Yes, that is as close to a salute as Staind will get from me! I'm throwing punctuation out the window. Conjunction, junction what's your function? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODGA7ssL-6g

I learned a valuable lesson today. Don't go to the drugstore on February 13th, regardless of what you need. When I surveyed an overwhelming crowd upon entering the store, I was fully expecting to see Christian Bale working the cash register. No Bale, but then it hit me that it was February 13th. What do people do on February 13th? Apparently, after romanticizing their new or old relationship  for the past 364 days people decide to purchase that dream gift  for that special someone at Walgreens on February 13th at 8pm. It was like watching a real life version of "The Notebook." People were carrying giant teddy bears and signs that said "I WUV U" up and down the aisles. The only thing that could have made this experience any more romantic was Captain and Tenille's "Do That To Me One More Time" playing overhead. And to think, I  was just there to purchase a bottle of Bactine for my 7 year old. Couldn't they have at least added a conversation heart to the bottle that said "Love Stings" or "Get Infected with Kisses" in honor of this over commercialized day when amateurs go out to dinner?  Mwak, mwak, mwak.

However, I am delighted to say the older kids' writing skills have improved tremendously. I remember a couple of years ago (when they were in pre-k) how painstakingly long it took to prepare Valentines  for their classmates. OMG. Writing each letter took the same amount of time it takes for the Olsen twins to finish a box of Cheerios.  You definitely needed a glass of wine before tackling this project.  I was able to complete "Crime and Punishment" as they signed the first card. Everyone was on the verge of tears.  I remember looking at the class list wondering why the parents had given their kids such long names. Lola became Lo.  What was wrong with just naming your child J or C? And with each card I swore the  number of names on the list was multiplying? Had the Duggars joined the pre-k class....12 times over? I vowed the next year to start working on the cards the day after Halloween to make sure we had enough time to finish them by February 14th.

No offense to anyone who thinks that February 14th is a "romantic" day, but I just don't get it. But, if I own a florist or a candy company I'm thinking "it's the most wonderful time of the year." xoxoxoxox