I’m traveling from Connecticut to South Florida with my dad and five kids. I think I’m currently between, “There’s no good snacks left!” and “Mom, can you rent an RV next time?” and “OMG are we there yet?”
Also known as South Carolina.
My biggest insight from the trip is that children are able to lose one or more of their shoes in the car. And not be able to find them for long periods of time. Even though the shoes are – in. the. car. So far South Carolina seems very welcoming of one shoed children.
Well, in celebration of the end of summer, I wanted to re-share one of my most favorite summer stories ever about my husband and tank tops….
Men in Tank Tops
You know how on your 25th birthday, you were wearing a tank top and you couldn’t get into your favorite bar because it had that dumb “no tank tops” rule and you were so bummed out?
Okay, I don’t remember turning 25 either but I’m sure something like that happened.
And well, it happened to this guy on Sunday night.
But this birthday boy, who was turned away at the bars and was destined to go home and sob into his entire tank top collection instead found a savior.
Who, on the streets of Newport, Rhode Island, took off his own collared shirt and gave it to this guy so he could go out on his birthday.
That’s my husband’s shirt. Not the Hawaiian inspired one. The other one.
Of course, this left Rick to continue his evening bare chested, so he took the guy’s tank top.
Which really does prove that I am married to the nicest guy. Ever.
Who can apparently still work a tank top.
A few weeks ago, my LinkedIn account (which I haven’t logged onto in a very very long time) got hacked. I knew because I started getting emails from people wondering if I was truly a mystery shopper.
Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have padded my resume with all that fake mystery shopper experience!
Apparently, all my LinkedIn contacts received a lifetime opportunity to make more than 2 thousand dollars a month by being an outstanding mystery shopper who helps evaluate customer service and sales efforts for clients in the USA.
That does sounds exciting! I suddenly imagined myself in dark sunglasses and a trench coat (wait – a trench coat sounds shady like I could be a flasher). Okay, dark sunglasses and a black shiny cat woman suit ducking in and out of designer clothing racks secretly recording the comments of cranky, hungover sales clerks. I would be a millionaire!
Despite my deep longing to live a life of mystery and intrigue, I knew my efforts would be sabotaged by my loud children who would say things like, “Mom! Why are you wearing that shiny cat woman suit and hiding behind the evening dresses?! Can we go now? I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. I have a paper cut. I have a stomach ache. Why are we still in this store? Can you buy us something?”
So I decided to give it all up and just continue my normal life. I changed my LinkedIn password to something tricky like “AdamLevineIsMyExBoyfriend” and went on with my life.
Except that I’m now inexplicably locked out of my LinkedIn account and my emails to support go unanswered.
Which means LinkedIn must hate mystery shoppers and Maroon 5.
It’s still summertime and I’ve been working on two reviews for you at Alpha Mom. First, I’ve got a review of 8 great sunglasses that will actually protect your kid’s eyes…
And also on Alpha Mom, a review of kids’ goggles that we absolutely swear won’t leak…
Enjoy these sunny days. xo
Every time I visit my mom in Connecticut, I am always trying to log onto her wifi and I always fail.
Mostly because she never knows her wifi address or the password. And her computer guy is always vacationing somewhere (where I am guessing there is a kick ass wifi signal).
Well, it only took two years but the mystery is solved!
Turns out, my mother doesn’t have wifi in her house.
Gosh, I’d be an excellent detective. I mean, a slow one. But still. Case closed! (Wifi is now finally and thankfully installed.)
Also, my mother is the last remaining person on earth to call information when she needs a number. Yup, there are still 411 operators standing by to give you the number of your favorite hibachi restaurant. But how often can they possibly get a call? They are probably just waiting around in some office saying, “I’m so bored. I hope Kelcey’s mom calls again soon!”
Before I head back to Florida, I’m going to teach my mom how to do an internet search on her phone so she can stop paying for 411 calls. Obviously this is just the first step to her historic rise as a tech genius at Apple.
(By the way, it’s probably best to not make fun of one’s mother who has a Phd, three masters degrees and is currently giving me and my 5 children lodging. So disregard everything I’ve said so far in this post.)
It has been so nice to be back in Connecticut. It’s one of my favorite places in the summer. And it has been amazing to see my mom, my sister and her family and all our old New York friends.
Meanwhile, 2 year old Cash has been mainly trying to disassemble my mother’s kitchen, dive into the Long Island Sound, and lie down at every opportunity he gets. This is at Rye Playland amusement park….
This kid is not afraid of germs. At all.
My 5 year old son has learned the delightful phrase, “SHUT UP!” which he is attempting to use freely to quiet other people down.
And my 5 year old daughter ended up in the ER because of an allergic reaction to my mom’s dogs. She is now doing completely fine.
Of course I had just remarked to my husband, “We’ve been on vacation for a week and have yet to go to urgent care!”
Per a friend’s suggestion, next time I’ll say, “We’ve been on vacation for a week and have yet to win a million dollars!” I’ll let you know if it works.
My 2 year old son is a very active boy. Seriously. Here he is with some creamer he located in my in-law’s fridge…
You can’t really blame him. It’s really good creamer.
That happened in the ONE minute I was helping one of my other children.
Cash is a busy kid but he is an amazing sleeper. I think his secret is that he sucks his thumb (my first and only to do this) so it comforts him all night long. Hopefully, he’ll stop sucking his thumb by his wedding day but if he doesn’t, I at least hope he won’t do it during the ceremony.
But as soon as we embarked on our drive up North, Cash stopped sleeping. We checked into our first hotel in Savannah, GA around midnight which seems like prime toddler sleeping time. But he just stood in his pack ’n play, staring at us and whimpering.
Not for 5 minutes. Not for 10 minutes. Hours. I finally resorted to trying to sleep in his pack ’n play with him. Here’s a reenactment…
Nope. Not even that worked. I guess he finally went to sleep that night in Savannah. I have no idea. Because when I woke up the next morning, he was up too! And staring at us. Not creepy at all.
The next night, we stayed in some town in Virginia. I have no idea where because we were originally supposed to stay at a hotel in Fredericksburg. But when we got there at 1 am, the room smelled musty and all the bed sheets were damp.
Now I’m not super picky about my on-the-road accommodations but I prefer if my sheets aren’t damp. We went back to the front desk to notify them about the situation and the clerk said, “Oh I thought we took care of that problem!”
The hotel had no other rooms, so we packed up the bags and the five children and drove 15 minutes north. At 1:30 AM, we checked into our new not-damp hotel room and got settled. This time we were able to fit the pack ’n play in the bathroom! But instead of whimpering through the night, 2 year old Cash just cried.
I finally brought him into our bed where he didn’t cry but also didn’t sleep. We finally resorted to putting him back in the pack ‘n play near our bed – where he once again stood and stared at me while I slept. But now I had gotten used to it.
Things have gotten much better since we arrived on the Jersey shore. Cash has started to understand that the pack ’n play is following him wherever he goes. And he’s sort of succumbed to it. And is now sleeping again.
But please God, just don’t let him realize that he can get out of it.
Me: Want to learn how to escape a car if it plunges 40 feet off a bridge? A friend just posted it on Facebook.
Rick: It’s never going to happen.
Me: It happens to someone.
Rick: It’s never going to happen.
Me: Tell that to the guy who just plunged 40 feet.
Rick: It’s never going to happen.
Me: So you don’t want to learn how to escape a car if it plunges off a bridge?
Me: Okay, I’m going to find out and then you better hope you’re with me when it happens.
Rick: Can you tell me one thing – can we use the McDonald’s Happy Meal containers in the backseat as floating devices?
Me: I don’t think so.
Rick: Okay, okay, just tell me the first thing on the list.
Me: “Don’t panic.”
Me: Seriously. It says, “Don’t Panic.” See, if I hadn’t told you about this – you would have totally panicked and lessened your chance of survival.
Rick: I feel much safer now.