Mom's great escape (for the day)

A mom friend and I escaped to Boston for the day a few weekends ago and spent the day... well, I'm almost embarrassed to say. Don't get me wrong, it was glorious and relaxing and totally fun. But in terms of "crazy" and "exciting," I'm not sure you childless folks are going to appreciate this tale (those of you with kids, on the other hand, will understand exactly where I'm coming from).

To sum up the day, we walked around, we talked, we shopped, we ate pastries for lunch (without having to share!), we got fitted for bras, we talked, we had ice cream even after having pastries for lunch and we met another friend for a sinfully caloric dinner and great conversation.

At one point during the day, we found ourselves sitting by a pond in the Public Gardens just... not doing much at all. We admired a bride and groom being photographed, we talked, we sat silently, we people watched, and we wondered how to explain our day to our families. I knew if I described it like the paragraph above, the Pretend Husband wouldn't get it (in fact, I tried that paragraph and his response was, "but you could have done that in the next town over. You didn't have to go all the way to Boston to do that!")

We decided that the day wasn't as much about what we had done, but what we had not done. We hadn't had someone tugging at our clothes at any point during the day, we hadn't been interrupted in our conversation even once, we hadn't had to stop a little human from falling or diving headfirst into the pond. We hadn't had to answer the question, "why?" six times in a row. We hadn't had to keep to a schedule so no one would miss their nap and be incredibly cranky for the rest of the day. We hadn't had to make decisions based on anyone else's wants or needs. And it was wonderful.

While I did miss my family that day, it was exactly what I needed. A beautiful day with a good friend, good conversation, great pastries and not doing much of anything. It was perfect.

Denying my kid chocolate is where I draw the line....

Last year, our town postponed Halloween amid the ruins that came about from the freak October nor'easter. It was originally postponed until a few days later then again postponed and turned into a "trunk or treat" where cars parked in the high school parking lot and the kids went from car to car to collect candy. Personally, I think that's kind of lame, but I went along with it because it made sense to not have kids trick-or-treating in neighborhoods that still didn't have power or were still unsafe because of the trees that were knocked down.

But this year? This year, I was a rebel. When the town decided to postpone Halloween to Saturday, I fought back. I refused to be held down by the restrictions of society. I looked "the man" in the eye and said, "no!" And then we broke all the rules and went trick-or-treating anyway.

Ok, I'm sure many of you have taken up pet causes that are a lot more worthy than Halloween, but I was looking forward to giving FunnyKid the experience and Saturday doesn't work for us. And our neighborhood has power and no downed trees so no one's safety was at risk.

We had friends over to go with us and I was bound and determined to give the kids a Halloween. My back-up plans included taking them over the town line to a neighborhood with an officially-sanctioned Halloween and having the kids parade around our house and collect candy from adults in different rooms.

Luckily, our neighborhood is full of rebels just like us and they turned their lights on. So we took our St. Bernard, our Tinkerbell(s) and our Peter Pan to about seven houses, made them walk the darkened streets and stuffed winter coats under their costumes-- just how Halloween is meant to be.

And now that everyone is begging for candy for breakfast, my work here is done. But if anyone tries to mess with Thanksgiving, I can promise I'll be leading the charge to keep the government out of our good time.

NOOOOOOOOOO!

Yesterday, I was able to wear a light-weight shirt when FunnyKid and I went out for a run/walk together. Today, it is SNOWING. SNOW! With up to A FOOT forecast for our area tomorrow.

Spring, where are you? For some reason (probably owing to staying home with FunnyKid for the entire long, long winter), I am more eager for warm weather than ever before. And SNOW is an obstacle to getting to that warm weather.

I told the Pretend Husband he may get home from work one of these days and find a note explaining that FunnyKid and I hopped a flight to Florida. I was only sort of kidding.

Ready for spring...

Not that we're letting the cold weather keep us from going out for walks in the jogging stroller, but FunnyKid and I would much prefer to not have to wear multiple layers every time we leave the house. Warm weather, hurry up and get here!

You know it's bad when you're more emotional than the pregnant chick

Kat's lil bro is a big dude who wears steel-toed boots and sometimes makes crude jokes (he's a firefighter, so I think that comes with the territory). And, despite being raised with (or, by) two older sisters, he's one of the least emotional guys you'd ever want to meet. Looking for a tear in his eye the first time he meets his nephew? Not going to happen. Want some sympathy when you break a bone/ get fired/ lose money in a Nigerian Internet scheme? He's more likely to call you an idiot.

Don't get me wrong, lil bro is a good guy. But he's a guy nonetheless. Which is what makes this next story so ironic.

Lil bro bought a house that year that has an in-ground pool. It was late in the season when he moved in and it didn't get a lot of use. Well, this year, the whole family can't wait for him to get it opened and running because a.) he-- and the pool-- are within a short drive for us and b.) he doesn't care if we use it as long as we leave any extra beer we brought in his fridge (he's easy-going like that).

But the family is waiting for the pool to be opened because... some frogs laid eggs in the water on the pool cover and lil bro is insisting we wait until the tadpoles mature before evicting them and taking off the pool cover.

I was speaking to lil bro yesterday trying to figure out how long it would be before I can haul my pregnant body over to his house and dunk it in the pool for sweet, sweet relief from the summer heat. He started talking about the growth period for tadpoles and other such facts.

"Wait, did you research this?" I asked.

"Yes, I need to know how long before they're big enough to get out of the water," he said.

"Do you think their growth is more important than your comfort?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Well," I replied. "It's not more important than mine. The pregnant lady needs the pool!"

(I offered to let lil bro collect all the tadpoles and let them loose in our pond, but it led to a discussion about their predators and other facts I had no interest in learning. Somehow, I think the frogs are going to win this one while I make do with a squirt bottle and a fan.)

Oh, that? That's just God messing with me once again.

The Pretend Husband and I just got back from a trip to visit the cutest nephews in the world in Georgia. The nephew part of the trip was fabulous, but the weather? Not so much. I was hoping to leave home (where the temperatures have been in the 20s and 30s with snow at least once a week) and find sun and temps in the 50s so we could take walks, play outside with the boys, etc.

What we got instead was it snowing in that particular part of Georgia for the first time in 30 years. (I won't go into how it was hardly a dusting and yet schools were closed and the media was telling people to make sure they had enough food and supplies for three days-- despite the snow melting within hours). While the television newscasters were going on and on about how dangerous is was and how people needed to stay off the roads, kat's lil sis and I went out to get pedicures (seriously, the snow wasn't even sticking to the roads...)

Anyway, we were in the nail salon and the owner asked me where I was from. I told him I was from New England and joked, "Yeah, I brought all this snow down with me." And wouldn't you know it, but a tracksuit-wearing, big-haired, florescent pink lipstick-wearing, heavily-accepted lady in the salon spent the rest of the time I was there giving me dirty looks. I can't decide if she just hates "Yankees" or if she believed me about the snow.

Lesson learned: Any "experience" is made better by booze

The Pretend Husband had the opportunity to go to the New England Patriots game on Sunday with a friend. For some reason, the husbands decided that their wives had to go along for the "Patriots experience" (since when did my husband start talking like that?)

So, despite a day that included freezing temperatures, snow, sleet, rain, more sleet and more snow, the other wife and I agreed to go. We made the drive with the men and then lost them shortly after we got there as they headed into the game and we walked around the outdoor mall at the stadium.

Then, just as the guys were starting to really feel how cold and wet their feet (and hands and legs and faces) were, we found an awesome bar that featured soft couches and big screen televisions to watch the game on. And that's where the guys found us three quarters, four glasses of wine and two bowls of clam chowder later. I kind of like football now.

Uh, Mother Nature? We need to talk...

We need to talk about why, when I woke up this morning-- Oct. 16-- my yard looked like this:

I'm not trying to be a pain, but... well, it's a little early for me. Perhaps we could hold off at least until the outdoor soccer season is done? I mean, don't get me wrong, I love the snow. Love it. When I was a kid, I used to hope it would snow on my birthday. But that's the thing... my birthday is in early December. So, I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job or anything, but maybe you could save the white stuff for a little later in the year? I mean, I wouldn't want you to run out. And, you know, all my soccer leagues will have moved indoors by then.

If you see my brain, please send it my way. I need it for work.

I've had some forgetful and less-than-graceful moments lately. Nothing big enough to be blog-worthy, but they have been adding up. And then last night happened. The blog-worthy brain fart!

Yesterday was a hot and beautiful day, the kind of day that prompted me to open all my car windows, including the sun roof, on the way home from my soccer game. And I left them all open when I got home because I thought I'd be going out again. And later, when the Pretend Husband and I got home from a walk with the dogs, I had it in the back of my head to close the car windows, but I got distracted by the arrival of kat's lil bro (you can see how I'm setting this all up to be "not my fault," right?)

So, anyway, I was working on my laptop last night shortly after the PH headed to bed with the same illness I had last week when it started raining. Like, really raining. Thunder, lightning and that special kind of pounding rain that is so awesome to listen to from a comfortable chair. I yelled up to the PH to close the windows in our bedroom and then went back to work. About half an hour later, the PH yelled down to ask me if I had closed my car windows earlier (the guy's sick and half asleep and still has a better memory than me!)

Curse words trailing behind me, I ran out into the pouring rain in a T-shirt and shorts, armed with a towel, and managed to get into my car and close the windows... just in time to prevent more than an inch of water to accumulate in the cup holder. I am such an idiot.

(I dried everything off before I went back into the house and the car seems fine. My husband on the other hand? I think he's a little worried about me. And he didn't buy it when I tried to convince him leaving his sneakers out on the front steps was way worse than my leaving the windows open. He mumbled something about a $20 pair of sneakers versus a $20,000 car and went to bed.)

How to get your house egged in three easy steps

Since we moved into our new-old house, we’ve been dealing with a “situation.” I have been transformed– kicking and screaming and with a lot of whining to the Pretend Husband– into the neighborhood witch. You know, that mean lady down the block who would keep your ball if it accidentally got thrown into her yard? That’s apparently me.

 We have a pond in our yard next to our house. It’s a nice pond that was one of the reasons I was most excited to move back to that house… and one of the reasons the PH was dreading it (silly lawyer with all his worrying about lawsuits!). It all started this winter when I looked out the window to see someone shoveling off the pond while his four kids ice skated around him. Wait, what?!? I hadn’t been on the ice, hadn’t checked to make sure it was safe and definitely hadn’t invited anyone to skate.

We let it go because we weren’t sure if my dad had given anyone permission to skate (and we were sure the ice was safe). But after talking to Dad and finding out he hadn’t given anyone blanket permission that would extend beyond him owning the home, then finding out a school vacation day had brought a whole bunch of kids onto the pond (without adults) while we were at work, we decided to needed to set some rules. For the record, I was all, “But not everyone is lucky enough to have a pond in their yard and it would be a good way to meet people and…” (The PH was all, “All we need is someone breaking through the ice and suing us! We could lose the house! How would you feel if someone got hurt in our yard?!?”) (The PH is a lot more logical than I am, obviously.)

I was all for holding neighborhood skate parties… until I looked out the window to see someone clearing the ice with a snow blower he had dragged down the road from a quarter-mile away and then was extremely dismissive when I went out to talk to him about our concerns. Then it was on like Donkey Kong.

So it’s been a struggle the last few months (until, thankfully, the ice melted) with a plan of attack that included me enlisting Neighbor Lady Z to keep watch (we have awesome neighbors who keep an eye on things for us and are willing to not only put up with us, but to lend us things and do things for us like moving our piano), me having to chase two 10-year-olds off the ice (“Did you know this is private property?” “Noooo.” “Really? Did you think it was a park? No, it’s my yard.”) and us having to consider asking the police to swing by our yard on school vacation days (which we luckily never had to do).

And I thought this had all ended (without me bitching and moaning about it on the blog even!) until I had a dream the other night that I looked outside to see that someone had set up those bounce house things on the edge of the pond. When I went outside, a couple of girls were hang gliding over the water and Neighbor Lady Z’s husband and kids were swimming in the pond. Then I got in a fight with Neighbor Lady Z’s husband because he thought I was being mean for asking everyone to get off our property (when in reality, he agrees with our concerns).

If we make it through the summer without having our cars broken into or our house egged, I will be shocked. And yes, I AM keeping your ball. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful where you throw it.

That silence you hear is my lack of teeth-grinding...

It's only in retrospect that I realize how much of the past year has been filled with wedding preparations, a job that sucked my energy when I was working on deadline, no free weekends because of the part-time gig at the radio station and general worries about the dogs, our house(s) and whatever else life threw our way. We survived with no permanent scars, but man, was life busy.

Which is why I'm looking forward to the next three days with so much glee. Without too much planning on our part, the Pretend Husband and I seem to have fallen into the perfect vacation. Tomorrow, we'll pack up Molly and Casey, more food than an army could consume in a three-day period and our bathing suits and head for my family's cottage. No Internet connections, only fuzzy cell phone signals and a lack of a television... I know I'm getting old because it sounds like the perfect weekend to me.

For the first time in more than a year (with only a handful of exceptions for things like, oh, getting married), I won't be getting up at 4 a.m. on Saturday. I won't be forced to check my work email. I won't be working on any sort of deadline.

What I will be doing is laying in the sun, reading some good books, playing with the dogs, playing with the PH (wink, wink), hanging out with friends and family, probably eating too much and just enjoying life.

And, I wish all that for you too. Happy Fourth of July, my friends! Enjoy.

it's a twister, auntie em!

nothing says warm spring days in New England like a tornado.

yes, i said a tornado.

wednesday, as the heat and humidity sank in around southern Connecticut, where i work, we started to hear rumors of threatening skies. threatening skies meaning.... tornadoes. i'm from very hilly new england, where we don't *have* tornadoes. in fact, i don't even know how to spelll it. e, or no e?

no idea.

regardless, everyone was in a tizzy. i admit, i did get nervous when i saw the warning. at the time, we did have a huge pile of granite sitting in the driveway, which, under the wrong circumstances could turn into a pile of dangerous small and possibly lethal projectiles. very scary.

but alas, we managed to get through it with minor wind damage and i heard that there was a bit of a run on canned goods. which always makes me laugh. because really, if the heavens are going to open up and you're going to baraged by fierce winds, is a can of peas really your best option for survival in a tornado? i suppose it would be if it were *really* heavy. it could act as a kind of anchor, really.