That’s right, I’m on summer vacation [with five deadlines, and a book to work on, but who's counting?] My monster is at Grandma’s getting spoiled [again] for five days. They are going to a wedding, they had a THIRD birthday party for her, and she’s not doubt wearing a lot of pink shit that says Princess [which I hate, but what happens at G-mas, stays there, right?]

The funny thing is, when I tell people I expect high fives and a “lets get wassssted!” but many of my mom friends are puzzled by my enthusiasm for my summer vacation. They “couldn’t” part with their kids for “more than a day, tops..” and I feel a twinge of guilt for the flutter of excitment I get when I think about takin a shit, with the door closed, by myself.  Hell, I went out and bought a new razor so I could spend five minutes extra making my legs smooth as well, my childs butt. It’s like heaven! And I’m not wearing a bra! And I don’t feel guilty about staying up late [cough, 11pm] to watch gymnastics! ‘

And now, for the real purpose of my blog, I need advice…

Down the dirt road from our house, there is a shack. In that shack, are five children, one mom, and one dad. They have baby chickens, dogs, cats, turkeys, roosters, you name it. Sometimes they come over for a swim, and sometimes we go down to say hi to their zoo.  There is one little boy Landen, who is absoutely adorable with his waist length blonde curls, and four year old swagger…but, he won’t leave us alone. Example:

12pm: doorbell rings, it’s Landen asking to talk to my husband. I tell him that we are working today, and he can come for a swim, or to see our pets later but now we need to do stuff, and to come back in a few hours. He says “okay, sure!”

12:10pm: doornell rings, it’s Laden asking if we are done. I explain in my best “patient mom” voice that only ten minutes has passed, now a few hours, like, 120 minutes, so he can come back.

12:12pm: db rings, it’s Landen asking if he can talk to Phil. I say that he’s working, and he tells me a story involving chickens, guns, and police. I nod thoughtfully, and tell him to come back later.

12:15pm: db rings, Laden wants to know if I told Phil the story, and what did he think of it? I tell him I didn’t, we are working and to COME BACK IN A FEW HOURS. Landen holds up 2 fingers and goes “this many minutes…” and I hold up 6 fingers and say “this many hours….”

The doorbell rings at least 10x per day. The thing is, I am patient and the kid IS adorable. IF I didn’t have work I’d let him hang here al day eating peanut butter toast and entertaining me with Redneck stories. But. I. do. How do I make him stop? I could call his parents, but what do I say without sounding like a huge bitch? They are country folk, and probably don’t care if he wanders through the woods to our place, and even though I’ve warned him I’m “getting mad and won’t give him any more fruit roll ups…” he comes back. He just showed up to show me his new pocket knife. I told him I’m not into violence.

ARG.

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I’ve been hearing some parents whining about going places with their kids lately– Whaa, flying with kids is scary. Boo-hoo, taking a road trip with a toddler is hard.

They’re all pussies. We just got back from dragging three kids and their grandfather all over British Columbia. There were airplanes, ferries, public transit trains, long car rides and exhausting walks. But, not only did we survive, we had fun. So, suck it up you candy-asses and get yourselves (and your kids) on vacation!

Minneapolis–>Vancouver–>Victoria–>Vancouver–>New Denver–>Nelson–>
New Denver–>Vancouver–>Maple Ridge–>Vancouver–>Minneapolis

Ten Days
* Bags of Luggage: 12 (between six of us)
* Airplane Rides: 2
* Ferry Rides (one way): 3
* All Day (12+ hour) Car Rides: 2.5
* Public Transit Train Rides: 2
* Messed Up Hotel Reservations: 2
* Hotels Without Electricity: 1
* Hotels With Free Internet: 2
* Hotels With Laundry Service: 2
* Hotels with Temporarily Unworking Elevators: 2
* Times the Garmin Messed Us Up : 4
* Total Number of Fish Meals: 31 (between the six of us)
* Drives Through Winding Mountain Roads in the Middle of the Night: 1
* Gone Forever: 1 backpack (in the Boston Pizza bathroom in Salmon Arm—in it were: 3 books, 4 diapers, 1 toddler t-shirt, and 1 travel pack of baby wipes).
* Licked Shoes : 1
* Temporarily Misplaced Children: 1
* Wildlife Spotted:
1 seagull on our balcony
1 stationary deer eating cherries
1 pack of deer on the side of the road, waiting to leap into traffic
1 small black bear on the side of the road
bunches of pigeons at outdoor restaurants
bunches of geese and ducks in Granville Island
* Children Sick For a Few Hours: 2
* Barfing on Hotel Floor Incidents: 1
* Workout sessions: 3
* Swimming sessions: 2
* Days with 3+ hour walks: 3
* Thought Was Lost, but Found at the Bottom of My Purse the Last Day: 1 (fish charm for a bracelet)
* Giant Trees That the Children Posed In: 2
* Never Before Met Relatives: 7
* Relatives I Have Met Before: 1
* Books read: 0
* TV Shows Watched: 0
* Newspapers Read: 0
* Bags of Laundry to Bring Home: A hell of a lot.

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When I’m not looking up faraway kiddie bootcamps on the internet (but do they take three-year-old girls?), or thinking about how “some folks call it a sling blade, but I call it a kaiser blade”, or fantasizing about propositioning the slightly balding but still cute pharmacist to run away to Mexico with me in my Caravan, I’m actually enjoying summer break.

The things I love:
Staying up far too late reading books, watching movies, finding out that in one way or another, we all like the show H2O. Can you figure out why a thirteen-year-old boy might be amused by this program? Hint: He’s apparently not gay.

Sleeping in until an obscene hour, my poor husband’s alarm clock having gone off and silenced without my even hearing it.

Cooking out on weekends—Bourbon beef kabobs, real Tex-Mex fajitas (with marinade imported from Austin), burgers, grill potatoes, our own hot-wing recipe, salmon and walleye, teriaki chicken strips, grilled vegetables, t-bone steaks, and many varieties of bratwurst. Just remember—Barbecue is a noun, not a verb, it’s something you eat not something you do, and you’re good to go.

Beer. Enjoyed as it can never be in the winter and can only be when it is drunk outside in hot weather.

Bike riding, roller blading, or walking to the playground every day that it does not rain.

Almost never saying, “no.”

Seeing more of my kids—literally more of them—their arm and leg skin in shorts and t-shirts, instead of bundled up in sweaters and long pants.

My ever blooming garden—the tulips and irises fading as the comical alliums burst into their purple globes, with the roses and lilies opening as the summer comes to it’s middle.

Forgetting what day of the week it is.

Having the luxury of time and room to play, and talk pointlessly, and lounge around without rushing.

Ice cream, watermelon and s’mores.

Time to waste, that you know isn’t really wasted at all.

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Mike Moh is the kids’ former tae kwon do instructor who moved to LA to pursue an acting career, but he continues to teach and inspire his students through his blog. The other day, he wrote about the concept of a “Dream Board.” He described this as corkboard that you use to display your goals—like motivational sayings, or pictures of things you wish to attain through hard work. I immediately had a vision of my “Dream Board,” and tacked upon it would be a picture of my family.

A chorus of “awww” would be appropriate now, but let me explain why a photo of us together would be significant. Well, in this snapshot, all three of my kids have their heads attached to their bodies, and I’m still in the picture. Yes, my goal–my dream for the summer is to make it to the end without decapitating them or running away in the minivan with our life’s savings and a six-pack of diet cream soda.

continue reading…

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So much for my diet.

Oh well, at least they will help comfort me through summer vacation.

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ANNOUNCEMENT: School is officially over and summer vacation has begun. All form of peace and quiet and the expectancy of sane work hours and regular uninterrupted time has ceased. Blog posts of mine containing bits of nonsensical sentence structure/grammar errors/typos/all of the above should be looked upon with pity and wishes for the speedy return of my sanity, expected to take place somewhere around Labor Day.

That is all.

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