Do me a favor and ask my husband Rick how last weekend went because the poor guy literally drove from Fort Lauderdale to Connecticut and then flew home the next morning back to Florida.
Raging party weekend, right?!
He did it because he didn’t want me to drive the kids up north alone. Probably because I would have abandoned them in Georgia when they lost their shoes IN THE CAR for the fourteenth time.
And twice along the way, a stranger said to me, “Wow. I never saw a kid do that before.”
Of course they were talking about my 3 year old son Cash. First time, he dumped over an entire trash can in a restaurant.
Second time, he discovered the glorious joy of a high chair on wheels. Why does a high chair need wheels? It doesn’t. But Cash realized these wheels enabled him to scoot around the whole restaurant instead of staying at our boring old table.
Along our trip, we tried to make meal tops at Chick-fil-A because they actually have decent fast food and always seem to have a play area.
At one of them, I got all my kids seated and then Rick and I sat down at a nearby table. A very sweet employee said, “Would you like me to push tables together so you can eat with your children?” Rick and I politely declined. “Our kids are fine. We can see them.”
Good parenting is all about making the right decisions.
We made stops in Savannah (where you must check out their very cool outdoor children’s museum) and Virginia Beach (where we spent roughly a million dollars to let the kids go on rides at the beach).
I don’t want to brag about the hotels we stayed at but this was the pool at one of them…
I think it’s safe to say, No Diving.
After many hours of driving, we made it to my mom’s house in Connecticut.
Rick flew back and a few days later, I took my kids to Westport Pizzeria – a place I frequented many many times as a teenager. It’s in a new location which felt weird but the kids seemed to really like it.
Especially Cash who immediately joined some guy at another table.
I think that guy is really warming up to him.
I love the idea of a lazy, 1970’s inspired summer. Where kids pass the afternoons sitting on tire swings, running through sprinklers and eating ice pops on front porches.
A time when boredom quickly gives way to fort building, messy art projects and neighborhood lemonade stands. And with no set bedtimes, there are hours to run around catching fireflies, playing cards and whipping up cupcakes (with lots and lots of toppings).
I love the idea of ALL of this.
But I can’t do it and there is no way I’m feeling guilty about it.
To read more, go on over to Alpha Mom.
I’ve developed an obsession with eyelashes. You know – like the kind of obsession you had in high school with Sun In. That obsessed.
It started a few years ago when I was at one of those baby play classes with my youngest son. I would have been 100% focused on interacting with him so he could glean every ounce of enrichment from the class – but you can’t overestimate the importance of independent play. So that freed up my time to notice this girl who had awesome eyelashes.
I wanted her eyelashes.
Of course, I immediately befriended/interrogated her. Turns out, the lashes were fake and fabulous.
I immediately committed myself to focusing more on my eyelashes. I mean, my family too. But also my eyelashes.
I first tried the Younique transplanting gel and natural fibers. Because suddenly everyone was selling this product. It was the Stella & Dot of the makeup world.
And Younique really does add major volume. You just put on the gel as if it’s mascara. Then apply the natural fibers with a different wand and then use the gel one more time.
But this (like mascara) is temporary. So next, I decided to first try one of those eyelash conditioners like Revitalash that make your eyelashes grow.
My sister-in-law was suddenly sporting amazing eyelashes and she said she was using one of these eyelash conditioners. And you know what? It worked. So if my sister-in-law ever tells you to buy something (eyelash conditioner, stocks, subprime mortgages, whatever), buy it.
But then I ran out of the eye conditioner. And I forgot to buy more. And well, pretty quickly I had the same lame eyelashes as before.
Finally, I decided to really give this fake eyelashes thing a go. I booked an appointment at a salon and learned that it would take two hours to apply the eyelashes. Okay, that seemed lengthy but YOLO baby, YOLO. (I’ll wait while my mom googles YOLO.)
I showed up for my appointment and half way through the first eye, I asked the woman, “How long have you been doing this?”
And she said, “Two weeks.”
“Two weeks at THIS salon?” I said, hopefully.
“Nope! I just got trained. This is my second week applying eyelashes.”
If there was ever a time to use, OMG, this was it. So OMG.
After the first eye was completed, I took a look.
Hmm…. I don’t think so. I immediately brought up a friend’s Facebook page. This! This is what I’m looking for…
Super glam, right?
I very very very nicely told the eyelash woman that my look wasn’t quite what I was going for, had her remove the eyelashes, tipped her and left.
I’m not giving up.
I may try fake eyelashes again. Can you train children to put these on? I’m looking into it.
Turns out my kids love sleep away camp! But they are very subtle about it. Like last week I got this letter from my 9 year old daughter…
The circus activities are fun! Fantastic! Tell me more…
The kids in the “green shirts” are day campers who get to go home at night.
And clearly she’s begging us to let her come home. But I’m also reading between the lines and I think she’s saying… I LOVE THIS CAMP!!!
Anyway, this is one of those 3 week camps, where the kids come home on the weekends. Never heard of it? I’ll tell you why. Because no one is looking for their kids to come home on the weekends!
As soon as my 9 year old daughter got home, she totally defected. She insisted she wasn’t going back. And frankly, we didn’t make her.
Because she’s 9. And summer is supposed to be fun, not agonizing. And most importantly, because they had a pretty generous refund policy.
I still have one kid at sleep away camp.
Who I’m just going to assume is having the BEST TIME EVER!! (Please don’t tell me otherwise.)
I dropped my older girls at sleep away camp. “I can’t believe I won’t see you guys for 7 weeks!”
“Mom, it’s only 3 weeks. And we come home on the weekends.”
“Is that the camp we chose?! Huh. Okay, well, I’m still sad. What am I going to do with myself?”
Well, you have three other kids, a part time job and you’re going up north for the week.”
“Wow. It’s a wonder I even had time to drop you at camp!”
I brought my 11 year old to her bunk and then got my 9 year old settled in hers. I kissed her goodbye. Her eyes filled with tears. Which of course made my eyes fill with tears. She looked at the room of girls she didn’t know yet. And she pleaded with me to stay just a little bit longer.
And then it was time. The counselor was herding them out the door to start a full day of activities. They’re in the circus program which I’m reasonably sure doesn’t involve lions or anything. But I’ll be honest, I didn’t read the camp emails all that thoroughly.
Wear sunscreen, I beg, as a I back out the door.
Don’t borrow anyone’s hair stuff no matter how amazing it is!
Miss me so much but not too much but just enough so that you are missing me but having fun while you’re missing me.
Don’t forget to write today so we’ll actually get it before you’re home for the weekend.
You have to reapply the sunscreen! Not just put it on once and then forget about it. This is Florida. Please remember!!
And then it’s really time.
I say goodbye and walk back to my car.
When you have a baby, you can never get a breath. But then those babies grow and you start to realize, parenthood isn’t about saying hello. Not at all. It’s really about saying goodbye. For preschool, for camp, for school, for a sleepover, for college.
Letting kids go when they are ready to go.
Even if it’s just for five days until they’re home again.
My 6 year old has been sobbing for days. She didn’t want her big sisters to leave.
But I promised her, soon we will be saying hello.