Random Ramblings: Sports Edition

I wish I could say my long absence from blogging was the result of something amazing - a European pilgrimage, completion of a novel, finally learning how to curl my hair with a straightener.

The sad truth is that we were camping and our computer was being repaired and I had nothing good to write. If you've ever read my blog before, you know that that has never stopped me before but there you go.

Today's Random Ramblings all have to do with sports and exercise. Which makes me sound really athletic. Which I totally am (unless you know me in real life. And then I'm totally kidding.).

Professional Soccer

As a thank you to coaches, my local chapter of Girls on the Run gave the coaches free tickets for them and their families. Girls on the Run is a really cool running program that teaches girls how to be confident and encourages positive emotional and physical health. I'm one of the coaches and Kate is in the program, which is such an amazing experience to go through with her. But that's a post for another day.

Back to the soccer game. So we got these free tickets for coaches (there I go again, flaunting my sportiness). It was pretty fun - much more fun to watch than football or baseball. It's constant action and the athleticism of the players was astounding. Jack plays soccer and Kate will play next season so it was fun watching the game with them. My in-laws watched the littles for obvious reasons.

All I have to show you are two mediocre cell phone pictures. I can either learn photography or I can concentrate on being beautiful. No time for both.

At one point during the game, the captain of our local team (who was a phenomenal player) did a couple wrong things and got kicked out of the game. I don't know what they were but everyone was booing so I did.

Apparently I look like I know what's going on even though I'm actually clueless. It's a rare gift. So one of the guys in the row behind me starts talking to me like I know things. He has that beautiful lilt in his voices that I associate with Afica. Our conversation is like this:

Guy:  I don't know what the referee is thinking. You can't call players out on a (soccer term) play. It's absolutely ridiculous. It changes the entire game.

Me: Don't I know it.

We are both shaking our heads with disgust and then I turn back around. He goes back to shouting and making animated gestures concerning the game and I go back to the kettle corn.

Beachbody

I consider myself in ok shape. Not great but not terrible. Just average. I decided to try the 21 Day Fix workouts. Not the dumb little containers which are most likely overpriced but the workouts. I borrowed them from a friend. The workouts are pretty good except that woman who leads them always says at the beginning "We're going to have some fun today" and I then make a mental note to never invite her to a party because her idea of fun and my idea of fun are very different. And also I wouldn't be able to enjoy my pizza rolls because she'd be judging me.

These types of workout videos always have a modifier, someone who shows you how to make the moves a little easier. You know, push ups on your knees, squatting but not as low, etc.

What I need is a modifier to the modifier.

"Hey guys, we're going to have some fun today. If you need some help, Janelle is over here to modify the moves for you (Janelle smiles and nods at the camera). And if you need even more help, this is Jessica's first week doing this program and if you feel like you're about to die, do what she's doing."

 - 45 seconds into the 60 second cardio blast move (or whatever fun term they have for torture), Jessica stops and gets a handful of chips and watches everyone else finish.

 - Jessica starts doing push-ups on her hands and feet, then goes to knees, then eventually against the wall, all while trying to get the dog off the yoga mat.

 - 9 minutes into the 20 minute workout, Jessica stops and says aloud "Ok, that's it, I'm done." She flips open a computer and scrolls through Pinterest while everyone else finishes the workout.


Holiday Themed Races

This past Sunday my best friend and I ran a Halloween 5k. We laughed so much that we were wiping away tears and our cheeks were sore. We always joke that our children are confused by our smiling and laughing on our Friday afternoon playdates.

"What is that sound?"
"Oh that's mom laughing. I know it's confusing as she's usually barking orders but you'll get used to it."

We thought about signing up for a 5k every weekend.

Or bypassing the race altogether and just driving around for a couple hours by ourselves.

Even though it was a Halloween race, there weren't a ton of people dressed up. Rosie and I decided to go as two stay-at-home-moms who didn't train much. If I do say so myself, we nailed it.

For those of you non-racers, everyone lines up according to their pace so as not to irritate people in front of and behind you. I think it started at a 6 minute per mile pace and moved up from there. We thought about joining that one but in the end moseyed over to the 12 minute mile flag, where the toddlers in costumes were starting out.

Usually the race announcers are chipper and encouraging. This one wasn't. His voice would boom over the runners:

"Make sure you're in the right pace group. If you're too slow, we're going to pull you out and put you in the back with the walkers."

"The course is clearly marked. If you get lost, it's your own fault."

To Rosie I said "If you guys even finish. Losers."

To add insult to injury, I had forgotten my mp3 player. So instead of listening to the sounds of Lecrae and Creedence Clearwater Revival, I had to listen to the sounds of my own breathing.

Horrible, gasping death rattle.

As typical with races, I was passed. While it's still demoralizing, at this race I could at least amuse myself by watching those who pass me:

A middle-aged woman dressed in what I can only assume is a toddler's pirate wench costume. Bustier, fishnet stockings, striped miniskirt. I can only imagine running a long race in that.

Oh the chaffing.

Rosie and I were also passed by a man who looked about 90 - long, skinny, sinewy legs. He wasn't even really running, just short stepping ahead. And still he gained.

The worst is getting passed by EVERY SINGLE RUNNER WITH A JOGGING STROLLER.

Sometimes they were double strollers, some athletic and cute young parents chatting happily as they passed me, probably planning their jaunt up Mt. Kilamanjaro, baby carriers strapped to their Under Armour clad backs.

The announcer was right about me, after all.

Random Ramblings

It's that time again!

Never Recovering

A couple evenings ago one of our offspring walked in on us.

Yes.

It's probably every parents' nightmare and wouldn't you know, the one time we forget to lock the door and a kid comes to our door at night, which never happens. I'm sure you'll be able to read all about it in this kid's future book:

Traumatized: An Autobiography

Chapter One: I wanted to stick a fork in my eyes

I am very thankful that it wasn't Jack. He's not old enough to know things but he's old enough to know something. He would probably just move out of the house because he couldn't stand to be near us anymore.

"Jack, what are you doing?"

"Taking my mattress out to the workshop. Please don't contact me ever again. You are both dead to me."


I'm sure we'll hear all about this decades down the line, at a family card game or something.

"Hey, you guys remember the time I walked in on you? My life was all downhill from there."

Kids, we just don't have enough in the therapy fund for all of you. You're just going to have to deal.


What Dreams May Come

A friend of ours told us he takes magnesium supplements to feel more refreshed in the morning. He did tell us a side effects is vivid dreams. So far my dreams have consisted of:

1. Everything in my friend's new house is made of paneling. Everything - walls, furniture, food. I struggle throughout the entire dream trying to figure out how to be supportive and positive about her new house but, at the same time, ask her what the frick is wrong with her. I sit at their panel table and try to cut my panel food with my panel knife.

2. I am driving around an unknown neighborhood. It's snowing - a blizzard. The road is treacherous. A white cat is sitting in the passenger seat, arguing with me about directions - we're lost. The cat is my best friend. I know I love the cat, we are like sisters, but I want to wring its furry little neck because she won't stop harping on me about where we should be going.

3. I'm at Comic Con and I'm eating Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. There's a girl there that everyone likes but I don't and I can't figure out why I don't like her. She's small, a dwarf. It turns out she's actually Hermione from Harry Potter (not the actress but the character come to life). I realize the reason I'm mad is because I thought she was taller and I feel betrayed.

So there you have it, a completely legal way to spend the first moments of each morning questioning your sanity. Recently I read an article that said our dreams are secretly our desires and our minds play them out. I don't think I want to drive around lost in a blizzard with a abrasively chatty cat but hey, maybe I do.

Violence Starts Young

Noah is in pre-k this year and everyone is happy about it. Everyone. The big kids and I get to have quiet homeschool times where we read about Ho Chi Minh (did you know that the city and trail are named after a person who began a revolution in Vietnam? I had no idea. It's so exciting to learn stuff) and discuss Einstein's thought experiments and watch Youtube videos on why cereal is attracted to magnets (there's iron in it but also something about the properties of water - I totally get it).

Anyway, Noah is very serious about pre-k. He tells us all the serious things that happened each day - from the letters they learned to the kinds of cookies they ate for snack (I want to send healthy snacks but every parents seems to send delicious desserts like pudding and rice krispy treats. If I send carrots and hummus, they will probably shank Noah at recess with blunt scissors). He loves going and being picked up by my best friend and her kids.

Noah also tells us how good he is each day. Which is both a frustrating and heartening thing for a mom. While you want your kid to be wonderfully behaved around other people, it's also a real kick in the teeth.

"So what you're saying is that you're completely capable of being kind and sweet and using a soft voice and being obedient and not screaming that you'll never sleep ever again while throwing toys and yet you choose not to be that way when you're at home?

You little punk, you.

The conversations go something like this:

"Mom, I didn't hit anyone today."

"That's good. Hitting hurts people."

"I also didn't pinch. Or kick. Or bite."

It just starts to escalate.

"Or stomp. Or spit. Or punch people's head."

...Or use an AK-47, or detonate a bomb, or steal someone's identity online..."

Please stop telling me all the kinds of violence you could have engaged in but didn't.

We'll be sleeping with one eye open.

And locking the door.

New York 2015: Part 2

When we left off, we were not quite halfway into our NY trip recap.

All during our time in NY, Matt and I were visiting his Grandma Dot in the hospital, who was being treated for pneumonia and the underlying condition of congestive heart failure. Since the kids weren't able to go to the hospital, Matt and I took turns visiting her.

At some point, Aunt Sue told us that they had moved some of Grandma's stuff to her little assisted living apartment and if we wanted to go through the rest of the stuff and take things we wanted and/or reminded us of Grandma, we could. I found a doughnut magnet that said "Lord, if you can't make me skinny, make my friends fat."

Yes. I will definitely take that one.

We also found some sentimental things - Matt took Grandpa's old handsaw, I found some glass goblets with our last name and a crest etched in them, an old fashioned silver butter container, little things the kids would appreciate - costume pearl necklaces for the girls, a little wooden rocking horse for Noah, an old pin from Grandpa's job celebrating a clean driving record that Jack was thrilled to have. Echos of the past that seep into our present.

One day when I was visiting Grandma with Matt's Aunt Sue, the doctor came in and took off Grandma's O2 and said "Why do they keep putting her on oxygen? Let's see how she does without it."

As a nurse, I was willing to bet big money on two things:

1. There was a reason "they" kept putting her on oxygen.
2. The doctor would forget to put it back on.

Sure enough, the end of the conversation came, at which the doctor bade a hasty farewell. I had watched Grandma's oxygen drop from 98 to 87. So I ran after him and told him I could put the oxygen back on.

Sheesh.

Grandma had been asking about seeing our kids and was sad she couldn't see them this trip. She recounted often the night on last year's visit when she and Tali ate corn and laughed at each other.

So on the last day in their town, while moving Grandma from the hospital to the rehab center, we stopped at Aunt Sue's house so Grandma could see the kids.

And son of a gun, do you know what Noah said as soon as he saw her?

"Grandma, we went to your house when you weren't there and took things you're not using."

She looked up at me with her sweet little old lady blue eyes.

"He might have Tourette's...we're looking into it..."

I do realize this is a terrible picture, Noah's head is cut off and Talitha isn't looking and you can hardly see Matt and Grandma. But the best we could do under the circumstances.

She was much more interested in interacting with the kids than taking pictures. These are the things we want our kids to remember. That it's important to do these trips even when it's tough and long and expensive. When Matt and I moved from Alaska to GA when Jack was a newborn, we purposely started in Chicago so we could visit both his grandpa and mine. They both died within months of those visits and we cherish that last time and the fact that they got to meet Jack. Life is so fleeting and so sweet. It feels good to know that the big kids at least will remember Grandma Dot and the little kids can look at the pictures and know that she was witness to their lives and they were to hers.

That morning we left and drove to Buffalo. Bittersweet goodbyes, a quick breakfast with good cousins and ice cream on the way.

We spent the night in Buffalo with Matt's best friend and his family. We played Marco Polo and tag and ate pizza and, after the kids went to bed, drank beer and watched the Republican debates and made fun of everyone, which is the only way to watch it.

On our last weekend, we drove 5 hours East to spend a couple days with Matt's brother and his wife and daughter. We rode the carousel in Saratoga amidst the horse race frenzy and swam in their pool everyday. Matt's brother was pleased with Noah's swimming ability and would often tell him to go jump in the deep end, to which Noah was take off at a full run and kick out a leg and yelled as he splashed into the pool to swim around underwater and do it again. The guys spent hours throwing the kids into the pool.

We don't get to see them too often, once or twice a year. I really enjoyed getting to know my sister-in-law Taryn a little bit more this trip. We literally spent each evening after the kids went to bed drinking wine (ok, a bottle a night but honestly, they're practically single serve bottles anyway), eating fruit, watching reality tv and doing our nails. We laughed, we talked, we got an extension cord for her little nail dryer. I regaled her with embarrassing stories of my childhood, including the time I moved right before 9th grade and decided to trim my own bangs. One side would be uneven, then the other.

What ended up happening was that I started my high school years (at a brand new school in a brand new state) looking like a recent lobotomy patient. My bangs were literally a short spiky line across my forehead. Straight up.

Needless to say, I was not voted "Best Hair."

Anyway, it's hard to stay at someone else's house with young kids. Every house we went to, the kids acted like they had never been in a house before.

"What's this? A glass door? How odd. Should we lick it? Should we slam it?"

"Wow, a staircase! Let's stomp up and down really fast over and over and then throw a ball up and down the stairs."

It was exhausting. And Matt's brother and his wife are such good parents. Patient, gentle with speaking, constantly attentive. There was a point in our weekend there that Matt looked at me and said "Hey, where's Noah?"

Neither one of us knew. But we just kind of shrugged and went on with our meal.

Speaking of meals (and feeling like a crap parent), Andrew and Taryn would lovingly strap their daughter into her high chair and meals would be a time of exploration and learning, each food had a name and was talked about and praised.

We literally sent our kids to eat at the table by the pool so we could eat in peace. Occasionally we'd open a window and yell things.

After watching this sweet display of engaged parenting, Matt and I would say to each other "Remember when we cared?"

(As a side note, I was telling my bestie about these great parenting moments and my feelings of inadequacy and she interrupted me with an astonished "Wait - they still have a strap on their high chair?" She and I are kindred spirits - Rosie is the Diana to my Anne.)

On the way home, we stopped at a hotel. We ate at a Johnny Rockets where the girls entertained us with dancing. Then we swam in the hotel pool until 10 pm.

Our final destination was my Aunt and Uncle's fabulous new home in SC. Aunt Cindy enjoyed spoiling my oatmeal-eating kids with Toaster Strudels (which was a first for all of them) and I spent some time on their amazing back porch, talking to their neighbor about her upcoming adoption from China. All in all, good times. Til next year, Yankees!

New York 2015: Part 1

It has been awhile.

We went to NY for a couple weeks and then when we got back, our computer was dead. We finally got it back yesterday and since everything had to be wiped clean (which is the technical term), I lost my automatic sign-on to this blog. It took about an hour of googling "Can't access my blog" and emotionally stuffing my face with food but I finally figured out that the account I used to open this blog had a number at the end. You know, for security and stuff. So secure I could not remember what it was. So now I have 3 Google accounts.

Anyways.

Here we are again, recounting our annual trip to NY. We've only done it twice but it's still a super big tradition. It's never really a vacation - 4 kids in a car, 22 hours there, 22 hours back, hours driving house to house. It's more because it's important to us that the kids know their family. And we happen to have a dense population of family and friends in NY so the trip is worth it. So we tell ourselves.

It was tough last year but this year, we were even stupider.

Earlier this year we had a visit from Matt's cousin, Alana. She's the assistant director of a Christian sleep-away camp in NY that she had grown up going to. When she came for a visit, we talked about sending the two big kids to camp for 3 days at the start of our trip.

Here's where the stupid comes in.

The big kids had their YMCA swim championship on Saturday morning - August 1.

They had to be at camp Sunday afternoon - August 2.

"No big deal," we said to each other, "we have gummy Melatonin. They'll sleep right through the night."

Oh the lies we tell ourselves.

I drove the kids an hour southeast of our home Saturday morning while Matt stayed with the littles and packed the car. Their beloved coach knew we were leaving for a long car trip that day and sewed them pillowcases for the trip - is that not so sweet? Also, I suddenly realized why the coach asked Jack what sort of things he liked a couple of weeks before.

"If you could decorate your room, what would you choose? Frogs? Planets?"

"Physics."

A moment of bewildered silence.

"How do you decorate your room in physics?"

"Equations, of course."

The fabric store must have been fresh out of physics fabric so she settled on an ocean theme.

After the swim championship, we started our journey. It was around 2 pm when we left. I thought about taking a picture of us leaving but no one was in the mood. We ate a tantalizing dinner of partially thawed pb&j sandwiches and various dry snacks in plastic cups. Dessert was gummy melatonin. I had imagined everyone drifting peacefully off to sleep, plastic cups of goldfish clutched loosely in hands, a Pixar movie playing softly on our beloved laptop.

Instead it was a fitful dozes of 15-45 min at a time and never all four kids at once. Whenever we pulled into a gas station to fill up or pee or a rest area, heads would pop up like a macabre game of Whack A Mole. Inevitably there were muted complaints from the big kids and cries and shouts of 'I want to go home!" from the little kids.

We eventually made it to NY state and, since we had a few hours before camp, called Matt's former youth pastor to swing by for a couple hours to visit him and his family.

We had a wonderful couple hours - talking, feeding horses, eating all their food.

Matt's youth pastor had such a profound effect on him as a teenager that he was why Matt became a youth pastor at age 20 - and why Jack's middle name is Dean. Matt lived with Dean and his family after his parents moved to AK at age 18. They named their son Matthew after Matt.

Their son, Matt, is the guy putting the helmet on Jack. I told them I would be a poor ER nurse if I didn't make him wear a helmet - I, who have seen quite a few injuries from 4-wheelers in my day. Even though it's Jack and Jack would no more take a turn fast enough to flip than Bill Clinton would become a monk. In fact, Dean offered to let Jack ride around on his riding mower. Jack, who helps Matt mow on his own riding mower at home, asked Dean if there was a safety shut-off (where the engine cuts off if the person driving it vacates the seat). He told him, no, there's not, it's an old model. Jack refused to drive it without a safety shut-off.

After a pleasant couple of hours, we headed over to camp. They had such an amazing time at camp and it was so special to have their cousins at the camp to watch over them and make Jack's 10th birthday memorable.

We spent three days at Matt's aunt and uncle's house in NY while the big kids were at camp. The last night there, Matt's cousins brought the kids back and we had a corn roast (which is a tradition at Uncle Bill's, something he grew up doing as well). Matt's Aunt Sue bought ice cream cupcakes and a gift for Jack (a rechargeable flashlight from their hardware store - win).

So that brings us to Tues night - 3 days into our 10 day trip. And there's still Part 2, you lucky, lucky people, you.

Pregnancy Dreams: I'll Take "Things That Make Me Cry" for $100

These are the days I feel like I should be posting about more serious stuff - gay marriage, the Confederate Flag, abortion, the Mexican drug cartel.

So many serious things from which to choose (it's my blog but the ghost of my 8th grade grammar teacher is standing over me, waiting for me to write "So many serious things to choose from...)

But instead I'm here to talk to you about pregnancy dreams. Because writing about womanly issues (and not serious ones) and scrubbing toilets badly and bikini waxes and toddler diarrhea is just who I am.

First off, I'm not pregnant.

No.

No.

No.

But a friend is and the night I spoke to her on the phone I had a dream about being pregnant. Well, a nightmare really. Don't get me wrong, I desperately planned and wanted my babies and so enjoyed those sweet early lives, when their heads smell heavenly and they do that thing where they stretch their arms and yawn and keep their little legs bunched up. It's so cute I can hardly stand it.

But then they grow. And while their heads now smell like dirty hair and sunscreen, so many wonderful things are in this phase of life. No more diapers (hell ya!); long, serious discussions about life and faith and the purpose of nipples; being able to leave the big kids at home for small bits of time; enjoying my Kate reading Harry Potter and Roald Dahl and so many of my favorite books for the very first time.

And really, when people feel done having kids, that's pretty much it. I can watch a diaper commercial and instead of sobbing and beating my fists and crying out to the cosmos that I want to be pregnant and why am I the only person in the world without a baby? (like when I was trying to get pregnant with Jack), I just think "Thank God those days of feces escaping even the most capable of diapers are over." I can sleep the sleep of a parent who does not expect to be woken up at night. Ever. And if I am, so help me, you'd better be puking up your boxed macaroni dinner because I sure as shooting will not be getting up because you can't find your green dinosaur at 3 am.

So it was quite a shock to have a dream about being pregnant. Especially since my brain has long since threatened my ovaries - "If you let one more sperm in, so help me I will strangle you with your own Fallopian tube."

Apparently I threaten children and body parts with "So help me..." a lot.

The point of this whole rambling story is that I had a dream about being pregnant and instead of closing my eyes in rapture and hoping with all my might and wishing on a star and praying to God that it was true, I woke up in a bit of a terror and then narrowed my eyes suspiciously at Matt.

"If you got me pregnant, I will pummel you with my purses. All of them. So help me..."

And It Started Out So Well...

This is a blog post about last week. The good and the bad. Unfortunately, it started good and ended bad. Which really makes the whole thing worse because our spirits were so high when the dark and dreary cloud of reality settled upon them.

The week started off with the annual Edward Jones Summer Regional - a happy time for kids and adults alike. A four day mini vacation in a hotel with good food, excellent childcare, swims in the beach, and open bars.

The view from the hotel was really just like Maui, except this was only about 45 minutes from our house. We spent the mornings on the balcony watching the sun rise while the kids blew bubbles.

On Friday evening we went to the Family theme dinner night. This year was superheros.  I went as Wonderwoman (for obvious reasons) and was delighted to find a shirt with a cape on the back. It was awesome. Matt went all out this year and wore a t-shirt that I picked out for him.  Kate was decked out in a seriously adorable Batgirl costume. Jack, when told what the theme was, shook his head and said "No. No. I'm not doing that." So he decided to go as Albert Einstein, the Superhero of Science.

He spent the evening broodily walking around, as he interpreted Einstein as a pensive professor. As he strolled slowly around the grounds, he told us "The secret to acting like someone else is to BE someone else." He didn't even crack a smile when he won "Most Creative."

What made the weekend even better - no, FANTASTIC - is that our little ones were elsewhere. Last year it was terrible and we spent the time struggling with crying, incoherent toddlers who missed naps and stayed up too late. We were constantly running back to the villa to find a sippy cup or change a diaper or something. Even though the littles are a bit older, we were still finding it a difficult pill to swallow to bring them.

Enter our parents. Our wonderful parents whom we loved even before they took our 3 year olds for the weekend. My parents took Noah and he had a blast riding on the jetski with Papa and going out to breakfast with Papa and watching movies and being fed choice morsels by Mamaw. Talitha enjoyed baking a blueberry pie and reading books with Grandma and Grandpa. She was a little bit teary eyed at the mention of Mom and Dad but all the attention from her adoring grandparents quickly erased us from her memory.

We so enjoyed having a couple days with just the older two kids. No crying, no tantrums, no rushing to get to bed early. Just days of sunshine and asking thoughtful questions of each other and leisurely eating meals. Delightful.

The big kids had a swim meet on Saturday morning and as Matt was entrenched in the doldrums of financial meetings all morning, I drove them to the meet. My mom and Noah met us there and we cheered the kids on.

In one of the relays, Jack (who usually swims last of the 4 relay spots) swam first. His team didn't win and afterward I praised him for not getting upset about losing. He replied "I swam first to buy them some time but they blew it." I told him it's most important to be kind and try hard and that I'd rather him be kind and a slow swimmer than be the best swimmer but mean. He said "As a matter of fact, I'm both kind AND a fast swimmer. It's quite a combo." Ah, graciousness and humility at its best.

The kids played at the beach that afternoon and I strolled around the resort shops, trying not to look aghast at the tropical tunics being sold for $168.

The next morning, Sunday, was Father's Day. We enjoyed a lovely fancy buffet breakfast by the ocean and then met my parents for lunch to pick up Noah.

Soon after we got home and hugged sweet Talitha, who was overjoyed to see us, Matt said "You know, that water stain on the wood floor looks like it's spreading. I should just pop off a baseboard and see what's going on."

20 minutes later, this:

The pipe right there? The bottom that snakes under our floor is rusted. Out. The whole bottom is gone so every time the sink runs it spills from the pipe and sits, created a veritable cesspool under our floor. Drywall wet and molding. Probably started years ago and has backlogged to the point of creeping up the drywall.

A very sad and possibly expensive end to Father's Day for Matt. Instead of eating hamburgers and corn on the cob, he spent the evening pulling up drywall and wood floors. The kids and I headed to my parents' house, who were on vacation. Matt kept me updated over the next couple days. They had to replace 6 ft of pipe and then cement it up. It could have been much worse but now our eating area looks as though a rabid weasel clawed at the drywall.

And then on Wednesday, the day before I began a new PRN nursing position at a local hospital, I got the stomach flu. If there's anything worse than the stomach flu, it's being the only adult watching 4 kids under 10 while having the stomach flu. The big kids did the best they could but I can only imagine the amount of movies and snacks that were consumed while I lay in my parents' bed, watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians and wondering why my internal organs hated me so much.

Kate, the sweet kid, missed me while I was holed up down the hallway

So that was the stressful and disgusting end to our fun little vacation. I did find a pair of earrings I thought were lost for good so I guess it's a wash in the end.