Randomness

So it’s Friday, it’s late, and I’m worn out. I don’t have the mental capacity to write a whole post about one thing, so I thought I’d bore you with write about some random stuff going on in our lives.

Random Item #1 – I took our kids to get haircuts tonight. I vaguely remember a time when an evening at the salon was a relaxing event. Tonight, I felt like I had gone three rounds with Roberto Duran by the time we walked out of there. When it was Kate’s turn, I was trying to encourage her to keep her head down or straight or whatever so she didn’t end up with a jagged hairline while I was juggling Sammy and trying to keep him from playing with the piles of hair on the floor. The fun really started when it was his turn, though. In Sammy’s 14 months of life, he’s had about six haircuts, and typically he’s done pretty well. This time, however, he was not such a fan. He had hair in his eyes and his mouth and he was screaming like we were removing a limb rather than extraneous hair. With all the wailing and gnashing of teeth, I’m pretty sure our hairstylist was regretting both her chosen career and her current state of gestation. And after it was over, we decided we hadn’t had quite enough fun for the night and headed to the grocery store. Yes, Mr. Teenage Cashier. I know the box of graham crackers is open.

Random Item #2 – Our Disney trip is right around the corner and I am extremely disappointed with myself regarding the lack of obsession effort I’ve put into planning it. We’ve got all of our dining reservations, Kate’s booked on the Pirate Cruise, and I have spreadsheets outlining our general touring plan, but I really feel like I did a lot more preparation last time and had everything in a much more organized fashion. Perhaps it’s time to break out the old numerous spreadsheets and see if I can just update them.

Random Item #3 – I’ve been taking a lot of classes this summer – I’ll have knocked out 12 credit hours when it’s all said and done in a couple of weeks. Three of the courses I’ve taken have been great, but one… not so much. It was actually horrible. Hideous, really. It was online, which makes it sound like it should be a breeze, but for six weeks an assignment was due every Monday and a test was given each weekend… and the tests? They were impossible. My grades were as follows: 70, 69, 63, 62, and 67 on the final. Go me! My sources tell me there’s a huge curve in this class and that I’ll wind up with a B, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Of course, the class has been over for a couple weeks and the grades aren’t posted yet. Ugh. But, if the stars align, I should be done with my master’s in May of next year, so that’s good at least.

Random Item #4 – My friends and I ate lunch at Jimmy John’s the other day, and as we were leaving we noticed a sign with “25 Things that it Took Me 50 Years to Learn,” by Dave Barry. It’s hilarious, and Emilie posted about it today, so click over to her blog to check it out. I particularly identify with numbers two, three (Twitter, anyone?), and 14.

Ok, I’m done. You can wake up now.

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Bittersweet Beach

Tonight I took a walk on the beach by myself. A long walk, so long that when I turned back I could no longer see my hotel, and I was nervous that I might not be able to distinguish which one of the peachy-pink beachfront hotels was mine. Luckily for me, when it came back into view, I could see that the word “Ramada” was printed on it’s side in GIANT letters. I imagine they did that for the advertising benefit and the benefit to directionally challenged vacationers like myself is just a bonus.

But anyways –

I walked so long that at the end of my walk my hips hurt, and my lower back, reminding me of what an out-of-shape old lady I am. And I think, if Sophie was with me here on the beach, she’d have RUN me that distance, her little orange-and-yellow-swimsuit-clad bottom streaking across the sand before I could blink. And then, I’d really be sore.

But she’s not with me. On this beach vacation, I am alone.

Alone! How can it be? I don’t go on vacation alone. How am I here? What am I doing here? It’s crazy, so crazy I didn’t even really believe I was going until I was on a plane here.

I’m here, at the beach, by myself, because my sweet hubby thought I needed a break. This is what happens when you lose your mind, ladies. You get sent off not to the looney bin but to the beach! I’m not complaining.

I’m thankful for the break, thankful to see the ocean, smell it, feel it between my toes. I can’t wait to sleep in and nap and not change poopy diapers for a couple of days.

But, oh, I miss them already! It was so hard to leave them at the airport. I held Sophie for the longest time. Joshua was all, “have a great time!” – he’s just thrilled that Daddy’s going to be home from work for a few days. But Sophie, she doesn’t get it yet. And I felt so bad leaving her. Ah, no “break” would be complete without the mother’s guilt.

So. Tonight I took a long walk on the beach. Alone. And it was awesome just to take it all in, to really SEE it.

I think I’ll do it again tomorrow.

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Hand Over the Purell

I am not a germaphobe. I have a whole list of other neuroses (read our archives if you don’t believe me), but germaphobic-ness is not among them. I typically ascribe to the “that which does not kill you” philosophy about germs.

However.

My kids have a way of finding the absolute grossest item in a ten-mile radius, and touching, licking, or generally wallowing in it. And it is about enough to send me over the edge.

We went out of town this past weekend, and I don’t know if it was just that I was a hormonal mess or that things seem grosser away from home, but seriously my kids were killing me with all the nasty things they were doing. First of all, we ate in a lot of restaurants, obviously, and even on a good day, restaurant high chairs make me cringe. So I felt like Sammy was a giant germ cesspool from that alone. (Yes, I have a Floppy Seat and yes, I was diligent about it when Kate was little, but alas it remains in a closet somewhere with the rest of the we’re-awesome-first-time-parents paraphernalia.) When we got to our hotel room, I just had to pop a Xanax and come to terms with the fact that I could not prevent him from crawling on the floor for our entire four-day stay.

And Kate. That girl has always been a magnet for disgusting. She spent the weekend laying down on the bench seat at Burger King and not just holding but lovingly stroking the handrails at Busch Stadium.

Seriously, the day she decides that touching the toilet seat is not absolutely crucial to the getting-off-the-potty process will be one of the proudest days of my life.

At one point I turned to Andy and said “I don’t know how real germaphobes ever leave the house, because I am about to have an anxiety attack.”

But I’m not a germaphobe. For real. You believe me, right?

Damn. Add that one to the list too.

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