MarytheKaytheBlog

Ramona and Beezus (the movie): An "Extraordinary" Date with my Daughter

There is a line in the darling movie Ramona and Beezus where Ramona says she wants to feel like she's "extraordinary," and not just "ordinary."  I sat there, smiling at the movie screen, and thinking, "My girl beside me is definitely one of the "extraordinaries."

My Rebecca and I got to have a whole afternoon and evening date today.  One way I can really express my love to my oldest daughter is to spend time with her.  The main objective of our date was to see the movie we've both been talking about all summer.  I'm not sure who was more excited.  I grew up devouring the Beverly Cleary books in our school library.  Even though I haven't read about Ramona since Mrs. Reynolds helped me search out the books in the 3rd grade, I was transported back to her world this afternoon in her movie...Her house on Klickitat Street, Henry Huggins her neighbor, her big sister Beezus, her cat Picky Picky...Oh, when those details popped off the screen, I was back in my pink and green childhood bedroom, staying up too late reading about Ramona's newest adventures.

If you haven't made plans to see Ramona and Beezus--you absolutely MUST!  It's such a sweet, imaginative movie that makes you feel grateful for your own curious-mischief-making children--who, hopefully, are sitting right next to you in the theatre.

You know what else makes me feel extraordinary?  That my 10-year-old daughter still reaches over to hold my hand as we're walking along.  Oh, how I wish she would continue that simple act all through her teen years.  There seems to be nothing so connecting as the act of holding hands.  Holding hands sure could cement our relationship through the daunting years ahead.

I wonder?  Do other 10-year-old girls still reach out for their mamas' hands?  I need to pay better attention...  At what point does hand holding stop?  I will enjoy it until the day Rebecca decides it's no longer cool.  And, then, I will look for different ways to connect with my sweet, sensitive girl.

After our movie, we ran some errands together, and then I asked Rebecca where she wanted to eat.  It sure thrilled my heart when she said without a beat, "Chinese!"  Yesss, my kind of girl!  Here are our yummy dishes:

Mmm, spicy Hunan Chicken with the cutest, yummiest, itty bitty Spring Rolls (Peking House)

 Speaking of cutest...isn't she the cutest thing ever?  I especially love her flair for accessorizing.  I like to think I played a small part in that.  *smile*

My heart is just full tonight, after spending so many hours with Rebecca.   Rebecca can be a tricky one...She seems fearless and confident and talented in so many ways.  However, I know she can be fragile on the inside.  Sometimes, when we're alone and talking, I can feel the weight of my words as they filter into her heart.  In moments like those, I feel as if I am handing her little pearls.  Pearls of truth about herself, her gifts.  Pearls of wisdom about being a good friend.  Pearls of memories as we recount stories from her life.  Moments like those, I so want to string those pearls for Rebecca, and wrap them 'round her neck, so she has them wherever she goes.  I know, though, that only she can do the stringing and the remembering and the wearing.  I will continue to do my part--handing her precious little pearls of truth and love.

My daughter really is one of the extraordinary ones.  It's overwhelming to me to be charting the new territory of motherhood through the years with her soaking everything in at my side.    I'm afraid that since I don't always have my own life together yet, that somehow my own weaknesses and shortcomings will affect her promising course.  I just blindly trust that God made me her mama for a reason, so I rest in that.  And, as long as she keeps reaching across to find my hand, I think we are going to be okay, together.

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An Ode to the Dogs that Dog my Life

Scratch, and bark, and chew, and howl

45 Reasons, my mood you foul.

Jumping up and climbing out

Now our fence is plumb worn-out.

 
 

Repairing messes, the gate you chewed

I'm frustrated; your master--ever true.

Scrubbing and Windex and scooping your (you know)

I do it for my husband, who yet loves you so.

 

Starring: Annie, the deaf and dumb

and Cocoa, frightened follower

 

Even though these are my own feelings and psychotherapy discussions, Mama Kat provided the inspiration for the poetry assignment.

 

Behind Curtain #1 is.....

(NOTE:  If you are a sour person, and have no patience for funny, please scroll to the end for the summer organizational idea.  Oh, and I really hope your face doesn't freeze that way.)

 

 

Happy people of America:  Are you ready for this?

 

Drum roll, please.

 

Behind Curtain #1 is....

Oh, you didn't know I mean a shower curtain?  But, isn't this one CUTE??

 

You still want to know what's behind the shower curtain, don't you?

 

OH, NO!!!  I apologize!!  That's just TERRIBLE!!!  This is a FAMILY-FRIENDLY Blog!

 

Johnny must have gotten turned around when he was headed a garden maze of some sort... 

 

I really, really apologize for that.  I hope it hasn't damaged any of your delicate sensibilities.

 

No, what we're looking for is something much nicer...

 

No, no, no!  Poor Jake...He's still looking for a wife in the wrong places.  Jake, you won't find it here, fella.  You need to start looking for a good girl in church.  Tenley goes to church, you know.  But, this just won't do.

 

Let's try this again.  I really apologize for the delay.

Let's try starting over.  Maybe that will work.

 

 

Behind the adorable duckie shower curtain #1 is...

 

 

Now, THAT is some kind of great mistake!!!  Elvis freaking Presley is on my blog!!!  Google--are you paying attention???  Elvis has made an appearance on MarytheKay's blog.

 

My blog is going to be SO big-time, now!!!

 

 

Wow, now what's REALLY behind the adorable duckie shower curtain is going to be kind of disappointing, since Elvis is leaving.  Yeah, I'm sending him for a haircut.  His hair is SO 1970s.

 

 

Too bad Elvis was never a fan of Works for Me Wednesdays--cause this is a REALLY GREAT IDEA behind the shower curtain. 

 

I'm sure Priscilla would appreciate it, though...

 

Well, here it is, la dee da--

 

The Swimsuit Shower Hooks!!!

(These really ARE behind my shower curtain!)

If you're like me (and I really hope for your sake you are not), and you need a quick, easy place to dry out your family's swimsuits--you throw them into the shower.  You drape them over whatever hooks are easiest...the shower head, the water faucet handles, the faucet... 

 

Then, then next morning as you're stumbling to climb into a refreshing shower, you turn on the water--only to realize the swimsuits that had JUST dried overnight, are now soaked by that refreshing shower water. 

 

And little Susie Pie Pumpkin does not like putting on her sailor Gymboree swimsuit when it is cold and wet.  Bless her little heart.

 

So, in order to solve that dilemma for the sake of all the Susie Pie Pumpkins of the world...  Or, maybe just the Susie Pie Pumpkins in my family...  I put some very simple hooks at THE OTHER END of the shower!!

 

Genius, no?  Yes?  Make up your mind, would ya?!

 

I used simple white cup hooks, and screwed them into the wall.  (Note the fancy white paneling in our summer camp cabin!)  If you are a teensy bit OCD and worry about screwing something into your precious drywall, you can use the ever-delightful 3M removable hooks.

 

Ahh, another view!  I really do love this idea.  In fact--we store all of our family's swimsuits on these 2 itty bitty hooks.  I just removed the pile of them so I could take a nice, tidy picture.

 

And, unless you shower like a big gorilla, who sprays the water all over the place, your swimsuits will stay dry during showers and baths!

 

And here's another swimsuit tip--for free!  When I am showering, many times, I'll throw my swimsuit on the floor of the shower while washing my hair, let the shampoo rinse through the suit, and then rinse it in clear water under the shower head before hanging back up.  That's called multi-tasking, people.  Showering AND hand-washing the swimsuit.

 

Lands End should totally hire me as a consultant, shouldn't they?

 

Okay, that's it--the end.  No more crazy people are going to pop up.

 

You can go now.  Really.

 

Why would anyone else pop up now?  The post is over...

"I am in charge of what's behind the shower curtain.  Never forget that."

 

 

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Moving the Immovable...What is my Mountain?

Our town is building a new bridge close to our house.  I drive by the construction site every single day--many days, multiple times.  There was one great big obstacle the crew needed to tackle before they were able to start work:  A mountain was in the way!

If you live near any mountains, you are familiar with the process of moving mountains to make way for new roads.  I know this process of blasting rock, crushing the giant fallen rock boulders, and scooping out and hauling out the remaining bits of mountain is nothing new.  But every time I see a whole mountain moved by man, I am amazed.

As I often sit in stopped traffic, fascinated by the giant machines chipping away at the mountain in front of me, I often wonder, "How is that mountain like me?  What is the mountain in my life, that God is slowly, but methodically chipping away?"
 

 What is the immovable obstacle in my life--which I don't think even can change--that God is working on inside me? 

 

What are the names of those giant boulders that have been chipped away from my life?

 

How is God chipping away at my mountain?  Is He doing it slowly in my heart, or is he using a person to chip, chip, chip away?

 

Ah, and the scooping out...What kind of junk is God digging out from beneath the surface?  Stuff that I have packed down, and hidden away.  How freeing it will be to have it removed from my life completely--as far as the East is from the West!
 

 

And what will my life look like afterward?  Will others be able to see all the layers, and the chipped off places where God has worked? 

 

Will I be amazed my immovable mountain was finally moved?  Or, will I simply feel relieved? 

Avoiding Grey Hair is a LOT of Work

I know that Lady Clairol always says, "Only her hairdresser knows for sure," but today I am going to come clean:  My golden brown locks, ahem, I mean my brown hair is a result of a very scientific equation:

Hair dye + A lot of work + Pure stubbornness = brown hairs

I know that right now many of you are gasping with shock that I have revealed this intensely private secret, but for the good of all womankind, I am coming forward to tell my truth.  Here is that truth:

Avoiding grey hair is a LOT of work.  Oh yeah--and MONEY.  (My husband would want me to tell you that part, too.)

I always knew I would go grey young.  My mom did, and her mom did before her.  Now, let me first state that I am not avoiding looking like my mom--because she has BEAUTIFUL hair.  She has always gotten compliments on her strikingly beautiful salt and pepper hair in her 30s and 40s, and on her lovely mostly white hair now. 

I am (cough cough) an older mom of young children.  I didn't get started having children until I was 30.  That's actually when I started coloring my hair--at 30.  I didn't want to be a salt-and-pepper-haired mama of a newborn (That seemed to me an annoying outward symbol of how long our baby journey had taken.)  Back then, I started using a hair rinse.  I was using this magical stuff:

Clairol Natural Instincts - Suede, Light Golden Brown

For 7 years, this stuff worked like a charm for me!  When I first started buying it, it was about $6.50, and lasted a good 8 weeks.  So, for about $42.25 per year, I was able to avoid the grey.  In my opinion, money well-spent!

However, after 7 years, delivering 2 children, and some seriously mixed up hormone issues--my hair was a WRECK.  I'll never forget the night 3 summers ago when I first noticed I was losing hair at an alarming rate.  It was even more alarming when I asked my hairdresser at my next appointment, "Can you tell I am losing a lot of hair?"  And she answered, "Yeah, I can."  WOW, that was a wake-up call!!!  Horrible nightmare wake-up call for any girl. 

In addition to my thinning hair, all of the new hair growing in was frizzy and unruly at the crown.  In short, my hair was a real mess. 

At that point, I don't know which was worse--the terrible hair situation, or the terrible way I felt inside about it. 

Okay, let's get this out of this way:  I know, I KNOW hair is such a trivial issue when compared to real problems.  I can also promise this was not my worst problem at the time, either.  Not by any means!  But, I can tell you, that maybe my hair was the problem that I could do something about.

Being able to do something about a problem that weighs heavy on your heart is empowering and freeing!  I know--because I made an appointment with my hairdresser, and asked her to help me.  Well, help my hair.

Help, she did!  (Little shout-out to Charity--You're amazing!)  She suggested 3 things:

1.  Professional haircolor

2.  A good haircut

3.  Some salon-grade shampoo and conditioner

She gave me lots of scientific reasons for each of those 3 things, and how they would help my hair regain some health.  I knew that going the professional haircolor route was expensive and time-consuming, but in all honesty, that's just what I needed to do emotionally for myself.

Emotionally, I felt better instantly.  Being able to do something to solve a problem really is empowering.   My hair wasn't "fixed" in 1 appointment.  I noticed a little smoother texture right away, but I still struggled with frizzy hair for a good year.

The kicker is that now I spend a LOT more time and money on my hair--all in the name of avoiding going grey.  I don't want to tell you (shh, or my husband) exactly how much I spend, because my daddy always told me it was bad manners to discuss money (I'm adding the part, "Especially when it jeopardizes your chance at continuing in your current course of action!")

I can tell you that paying for my "hair issues" is a sacrifice, and one that I am willing to make right now.  The question I ask myself is, "How long will I continue avoiding the grey?"

Right now, I am probably 40% grey.   I stretch the time between my hair color appointments as far as possible--7 weeks.  However, because of my rapid hair growth, I really need to have it colored every 3 1/2 weeks.  It's a real shame to spend so much money having it colored, to have it looking terrible half the time.  For that reason, I touch up the grey roots at home in-between...using good ole Clairol Natural Instincts once again!

I went from spending 45 minutes and $6.50 every 8 weeks, to spending 3 1/2 hours and--well, a lot more $$.  (Only her hairdresser knows!!!)

So, the question remains...How long do I sacrifice the time and expense of avoiding the grey?

 

What do you think?

Linky Dinks Edition Toddlers, Washers, and Celebrities

Hello, and happy hippity hoppity Friday!!!  I have no idea what that means--or why I said it...  It just felt like a Friday kind of thing to say!  I do hope you have had a wonderful week, and that you are headed into an even better weekend.  I am really looking forward to a relaxing weekend, spending it with some dear friends.  On my agenda this weekend:  Laughing, some laid back chatting, watching kids play together (I am SURE there will be some plays written and performed), some sunshine around the swimming pool (oh, please let it be sunny!), some game playing, some boating, some more talking, some fried pies (oh yeah, it's a tradition), and lots more giggling.  What's on the agenda for your weekend?

As you have a moment to breathe this weekend, and are looking for some reading that will inspire you and make you smile, here are a couple of suggestions.  As always, first get comfy on your couch, and don't forget the bon bons!  Read away, my friends!

The blog My Delicious Ambiguity is filled with WONDERFUL ideas for toddlers--helpful tips, recipes, and educational games.  I want to use her positive reinforcement ideas!  One of my very favorite features of her blog is Tot Tuesdays, where her readers link up all kinds of great ideas for toddlers.

Do you own a front loading washer and dryer set?  If you do, then you HAVE to hop over to the lovely blog Finding My Aloha to see a FABULOUS ideafor front loading washers and dryers.  The idea makes me want to run out and purchase a set just so I can do the same thing!  Actually, you should just check out ALL of her organizing and DIY posts--I did, and found some really GREAT ideas!!  (Like this and THIS!)

My friend Laura over at Hollywood Housewife has just begun telling her story of how she landed in LA 9 years ago, and found her way to make it home.  I was HOOKED from her very first sentence.  Go read this first, and then you'll want to read about this to find out about her upcoming Celebrity CrashLinky Party where her readers get to post about their very own celebrity stories, sightings, or crushes.  Doesn't that sound like so much fun!!  I wonder...do Branson "celebrity" sightings count?  My husband and I were giggling about that last night...

No, I order you to go have a great weekend!!!

Calming my Reflux Baby

Tonight as I was lying in bed next to my 5-year-old daughter, feeling her warm body squirm and tug and nestle in, I was reminded of those long nights so many years ago, when I would hold her, tears running down my own cheeks, desperate to calm my baby's screaming, rigid body.

Our sweet Sara Beth, who had been a snuggly, smiley baby, woke up one night when she was about 5 months old, screaming.  Any kind of screaming in the night instantly jolts a mother from her bed, running straight to the source.  That first night, and second, and third, I was frantic to figure out what was the matter.  Then, I noticed sometimes she would scream the same inconsolable way in the daytime, too. 

No matter what I tried--burping her, changing her diaper, holding her, rocking her, singing--nothing seemed to help.  Sometimes, my husband would even buckle her in the car and drive around at 2am, just to give our household some relief.  Sara Beth screamed for about 30 minutes each time.  Looking back, 30 minutes doesn't seem so long.  But, I remember at the time, 30 minutes of full-out screaming--not crying--seemed like pure hell.  Like when you've been coaxed onto a crazy ride at the fair that you didn't really want to ride in the first place, but suddenly you find yourself being locked inside the cage by the carnival worker.  Then the angry music begins pounding your ears, the suffocating air begins rushing past, and the squeaky cage begins turning upside down and upside down and faster, and the music speeds up and all you can think is, "Oh God, when will this thing stop please make it stop I cannot stand it one more minute if I can just get off I will never ride anything like this again please please please make it stop."  But, only this time, it doesn't stop for 30 whole minutes.

There seemed to be no real rhyme or reason behind her schedule of screaming.  After one middle of the night episode, my nerves were too jangly yet to sleep, so I sat down in front of the computer, searching for answers on Google.  (A mother's best middle-of-the-night friend!)  Finally!  Finally, I saw the words, "Acid reflux, or GERD--Gastroesophageal Reflux" and realized that just might be Sara Beth's problem!   Surely that was it!  Because the symptoms lined up perfectly--especially the part about her starting to spit up large quantities after every feeding.  I just had not put the two symptoms together until then.

That night, I learned first-hand how knowledge is power.  Especially when screaming babies are concerned.  In that dark room, by the light of the glowing monitor I read and read all I could about GERD in babies.  I hopped from one website to the next, searching for remedies to help my sweet baby.  I scratched a few notes on the paper beside me... "Hold upright for 30 min after feeding, thicken bottle feedings with cereal, elevate head in crib, try solid food..."

Walking back towards bed that middle of the night, I felt relief.  Even though our baby was already sleeping peacefully in her crib, I felt like I had just helped her.  I turned and tiptoed into her room, watching her pink fuzzy jammies rise and fall with her breathing, her thumb perched nearly out of her pursed lips, her eyelashes fluttering a bit.  Oh, how her sweet slumber reflected the peace I felt washing over me, reminding me I now had ways to help her.  Now, I felt ready for the next time.

Waking up that next morning, I was ready for action!  Any formerly helpless mother knows the energy derived from having a plan of action.  I began right away thickening her formula with a bit of rice cereal, and vigilantly holding her upright for 30 minutes after each feeding.  I was also sure to feed her sitting up in her carseat, and not lying in my arms.  For a time, I had her sleep in her car seat--so she would remain upright the entire night.  I felt a guilty for not allowing her to stretch out her little body in the bed at night--but honestly?  She slept amazingly well in her carseat!

She still had screaming fits once or twice a week.  But, just knowing the why of the screaming set me free.  Finally, I was able to hold her, rocking back and forth, shushing in her ear as only a mother can do--and know I was helping her.  I was helping her endure the pain, showing her comfort in her mama's arms and with my soft voice shushing and singing little songs, helping her survive the 30 minutes of discomfort.  Showing her tangibly Mama's always here, Mama will always do whatever it takes.  Mama will work and work to solve it.  To help.  To be there, always.

 

This is a true story, although the subject matter theme was chosen from one of Mama Kat's weekly writing prompts.  Hop on over to check out some of the other amazing entries!

 

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Traveling with Kids: I've Gotta Go Potty!!!

This post is brought to you by my Sis-in Law.  If you get squeamish at the mention of potty words, then LOOK AWAY!  Let not thine eyes look upon this post, for it will mention potty words galore like "tinkle, pee pee, tinkle town, wee wee, and wuh-whoa" (as my girls love to say). 

This handy little post will address all of the above potty words, and how when traveling, those words can be just ordinary, run-of-the-mill, conversational words...and not incite sudden and extreme agitation upon the mutha.

What this post will not address are these potty words:  "poo poo, dukey, and/or bump bump."  (I'm sure my mother and father will be so proud of this post.)  When those words are spoken during travel--you are on your own, honey!  Don't blame me if those words cause you to swerve off the road, and yell in a louder than necessary voice, "Are you SURE???"  Nope, I've got no help for the bump bumps of travel.  Like I said--this post is all about tinkle town.

As I am sure many of you are traveling with your kids this summer, I thought I'd pass along 3 helpful tips when you hear those fateful words, "I've got to go potty!"  If you're like our family, and seem to travel thousands of miles without ever seeing a gas station, then these tips might be helpful.

Traveling Potty Tip #1:

My Sis-in-Law's brother has 4 little girls, ages 8 years-8 months.  4 little girl bladders were enough to motivate them to figure out this genius solution--they travel with a child's potty chair!  Oh, but that's not all!  They take a maxi pad, peel off the adhesive strip, and stick it at the bottom of the little potty to help collect the tinkle and keep it nice and tidy!  Whenever they are traveling on a lonely stretch of road (and it's a proven fact children never have to go potty when a gas station is within 10 miles), and someone cries "potty," they pull over on the side of the road and use the little potty.  Genius!   I call that--convenient, timely, and tidy!!

Traveling Potty Tip #2

This is actually my own potty tip--invented out of desperation--where all good inventions are born.  When traveling, we always take along about a dozen large-size Pull Ups.  I stash them in the back seat pockets, along with several plastic grocery sacks.   Usually about 10 minutes after we have passed a beautiful, brand new gas station, one of our girls will call, "Tinkle town!!!"  No worries--we just pull over, and she is able to slip on a Pull Up, and then put the wet Pull Up into a plastic sack for disposal.  The next time we pull into a gas station, we dispose of the goods.

I have to be honest...sometimes on those lonely stretches of road, I have contemplated traveling with Adult-size Pull Ups (okay, they're called Depends, if you must know!)  But, for now, I always waltz into the gas stations along the way, to use their facilities.  Because, guess what?  When you use the facilities, it is only polite to make a purchase!  And nothing helps a trip go faster than a fresh Coke with good crushed ice and maybe a pack of M&Ms to help it wash down!!!  I'm only trying to be polite, ya know!

Traveling Potty Tip #3

You all know I have daughters.  So, naturally, my traveling potty tips are for GIRLS.  Those of you with boys have it easy.  Or, so I'm told.  It appears to me that boys are equipped with built-in travel potties.  All they need is a quick pull-over and a small patch of grass.  Or, a small mayonnaise jar.  Just be sure the mayo lid is securely tightened before any sloshing or jostling may occur.

Traveling Potty Tip #YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN

As I mentioned earlier, I have no tips for the bump bump needs from the back seat.  We have used the child's potty chair before, but I'm sorry--the removal and cleaning afterward is just icky gross!  Do any of my gentle readers have a suggestion?

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True Confessions: The Day I Didn't "Mom Up"

Another week, another confession...  In last week's, I confessed a terrible mom oversight. This week, I'm cringing as I confess that I let my high school babysitter face a challenge with my daughter I wasn't ready to face...

All right, all right, I know you're already judging me.  I'm already anticipating the Comments and "helpful hints" I'll receive as a result of confessing this.  Just know that whatever you would suggest, I've already suggested to myself, and written to myself in the form of a Comment.  I know that confessions shouldn't be sandwiched between excuses, but my obsessive self will not let me leave this one confession unsaid:

If my kids were in danger in this activity, you better believe I'd be up there faster than a koala bear.  Or, if I was on The Amazing Race, yes, I could grit my teeth and do the task for a million dollars.

But, last week?  I chickened out.  If you've seen the coolest rodeo movie ever--8 Seconds, then you will understand this phrase:  "I didn't Mom Up to the occasion."

Why the heck not, some of you adventurous souls are asking me right now???  Well, I have some height issues.  Okay, and also some control issues.  And to be just completely honest--some I don't want to look stupid in public issues.

Oh, but WHAT was the event where I didn't Mom Up?  My daughter's dearest summer camp friend asked for a mother-daughter morning on the High Elements Ropes Course.  (HERC...which, in my opinion, should be re-named HELL...High Elements--Losers Look-out!)

Remember that I work at a summer camp,which is also translated as, "That place which is filled with high-energy, adventure around every corner."  And, sadly, that does include events waaaaay up in the air where God intended only things with wings to inhabit.  For some silly reason, the silly people in the camping world thought it would be fun to invent an activity where people get to face their FEARS.  And with a partner to get to watch close up, no less!

The nerve!

Well, how high could it be you ask?  Higher than squirrels climb, I am sure!  See for yourself:

 

See that teensy-weensy, itty bitty wire?  I feel my kindred spirits gasping in shock right along with me.  Thank you, kind souls, thank you.

I've heard that this is the hardest part of this Ropes Course.  Now, here's my logical brain's evaluation:  If this part is difficult for girls, like my babysitter, who play competitive sports and are in the PRIME of their lives...then, what would it be like for a 40-year-old who hasn't played a competitive sport since age 10, when I dropped out of Softball because the jerseys weren't a pretty color.  (Okay, that's probably not the real reason, but it's a good example of now not serious I was about softball.)

Plus, if I were high up in the air, hanging on for dear life, WHO would watch the little gangstas running around below? 

 

Oh, I KNOW they're smiling up there!  But, just remember the phrase "Prime of their lives!!" 

It's just not natural to be walking across a telephone pole up in the treetops.  It ain't fittin, it ain't fittin, it jest ain't fittin.  Humph.

 

Oh, they're smiling NOW...but they're about to SCREAM.  How do I know this?  Because what they are sitting upon right now is aptly named, "The Screamer."

Do you see the "Easy" button beneath their legs?  That makes me giggle.  Yes, it's easy--because all they have to do...is SCREAM...once they're strapped in, and the board beneath them falls away--and they go FLYING THROUGH THE AIR. 

Yep, easy.

Can you hear the screaming??

Can you hear my heart pounding?

 

P.S.  Yes, I know this is the Year of 40 for me, also known as The Year I Tackle some Goals...and maybe a few fears, too.  The blasted Ropes Course is on my List.  I promise to write all about it here, when it happens.  I just won't tell anyone beforehand, and I won't post any pictures until I've properly "edited" them (ahem, enhanced them!)

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Summer Camp: Adults Get Homesick, Too

Don't get me wrong--working at a summer camp can be great fun.  My family gets to live on a kid's dream playland--where swimming pools are oversized and full of adventure...not just 1 trampoline in your backyard, but 6...at any given time of the day there is singing, dancing, cheering, and giggling...there are ski boats, ropes courses, football fields, soccer fields, bicycles, and a petting zoo...and there is a dining hall which serves meals for the taking, no dishes to wash!! 

I also get to work with excited college kids every summer, who are funny and energetic, ready to tackle the world in a summer.  My address book is bursting with new life-long friend additions each summer.

I honestly don't take any of it for granted.  My heart is very thankful my family gets to experience this richness every single summer.  It's also beautiful watching my little suburban white girls grow up in the multicultural palette of an inner-city summer camp.  Our daughters only understand what "prejudice" is from reading about it--they see skin color as simply that: skin color.

But, in the midst of all of that swirling richness and thankfulness, running and jumping, cheering and giggling, diving, football throwing, dancing, and soccer kicking, "Where are you from's?" and "What is your major?"...  In the midst of all of that?  Sometimes, I just get tired.

Sometimes, I don't want to share my day with 250 other people.  Sometimes, I just want to eat my breakfast alone, and quietly.  Sometimes, I don't want to wake to an alarm clock every single day of summer.  Sometimes, I don't want to be needed by so many people in a day.  Sometimes, I just want to be alone.

Sometimes, I just want to go home.

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