Vacation Part Deux

The week actually started at Ahma's house in Franconia with just two cousins. The zip line was not quite Little Man's cup of tea but hide and seek was. Thankfully his cousins were more than happy to partake in the festivities but even they can only play so many games of hide and seek. So it was time to introduce him to one of their favorite activities: the good old Slip and Slide. No, not the hard plastic with all the ridges in it that would rip your butt to shreds of our childhood. This was the homemade version their mother introduced them too several years back. Take a plastic tarp, spray it down with some water followed up with shaving cream and you have hours of fun (and major mess but isn't that part of the word fun in the first place?).

He was covered head to toe and every place in between. Literally. But let me jump back a bit to right before the mayhem ensued because you can't have mayhem without Little Man.

Sean and Maya were explaining the whole process to Little Man including the fact that he needed to go put his bathing suit on before starting.

"I don't need my bathing suit" he promptly informed them and started to strip right there on the front lawn. Being Franconia and considering the house is on the side of a mountain, it's not like he was truly in public (thank you Ron White). His cousins, being older and understanding the concept of Modesty were slightly horrified and came running inside for me to correct his misconceptions. Little Man follows them inside the house and promptly tries to explain to me that he doesn't need his bathing suit. Frankly, having seen how much of a mess this whole thing can make, I was kind of on his side but I need to go to the immortal words of my husband: "Going Commando would guarantee you had the whole thing to yourself".  That wouldn't exactly be fair to the other kids and it was their idea in the first place so I convince Little Man that he really does need to put his bathing suit on.

"OK Mommy. No Problem!" And proceeds to strip in the middle of the living room. I didn't know Sean could move that fast. How can a child of my sister's be so shy? So easily freaked out? I'm not sure which was funnier.

So a slippin' and a slidin' they go. No one married a tree or a boulder (although they did come close a few times) and there were lots of laughter and squeals. OK, the squeals came at the end when they all decided to rinse off a bit first. Yes, well water is cold but that isn't was caused the loudest squeals. Little Man realized he had shaving cream everywhere and asked Ahma to rinse everything. Yup, my little guy dropped trou yet again 'cause ya know, "my penis is covered Ahma. Rinse it! Rinse it!" All while shaking it for the world to see. The squeals were his cousins running in horror. 

He managed to fake modesty for the rest of the week with only one slip. One night at the lodge he decided opening the door while all his cousins were out in the hallway was a great idea. Even if his mom was standing in perfect line of sight. In nothing but a towel. A very small hotel towel. Screw squeal. I shrieked. Just in time. Thankfully he remembered to remove his hand right before he slammed the door on it.

Vacation Part I

Nothing like a mini family reunion to bring out the best in my son. The single most over-used phrase of the week? My cousins. As in, are they my cousins? Where are my cousins? Are my cousins eating breakfast/lunch/dinner with me? Where are my cousins? Why aren’t my cousins here? Are my cousins sleeping in here with me? Cousins, cousins, cousins, cousins.

As over-used phrases go, this one was awesome to hear. It was the first time in Little Man’s life he had all of his cousins around and he had them for a whole week.  “I have sooo many cousins Mommy!”.  So many in fact, he frequently forgot names. I love his little scrunched up face when he’d try to remember which one he wanted. He’s four. He doesn’t live near any of them and rarely sees them so he has an excuse. Unlike his mother who couldn’t get names straight to save her life (I cannot apologize enough Ms. Gracie and believe me, I feel your pain. I am still called by my sister’s name).

The ages ranged from 4 to 21 (Sorry Nathan but when you start dancing to Cotton Eyed Joe with a bunch of grade-schoolers, you get dumped into the kid category *wink*) with Little Man taking the youngest spot but that didn’t stop him from keeping up. Tennis, ping pong, soccer, volleyball… you name it, he was right in the thick of it. Ok, so maybe not so much on the rock climbing wall but in all else, he was right there.  Oh and the air hockey - he ruled that table. So much show that we actually had break down and get a roll of quarters to feed his habit. We’ve been back 2 days now and he has yet to ask his favorite, most beautiful, wonderful Mother in the whole wide world for an air hockey table. If we make it a full week, I may, may be in the clear.

He is getting a tennis racquet. That I can afford. He’ll have to wait a few more weeks though. I don’t do sports in the dog days of August. I’m a cool weather kind of gal when it comes to chasing balls around the court. He just needs to learn to hit the ball on the first bounce, not the 4^th when it is barely coming up to his ankles.

He also ruled the soccer field. Literally. I headed inside to get him some water when I heard him cry. A glance showed him face first in the grass but John was right there so I continued on with my mission. A good thing too but more on that a little later. When I returned he was still whimpering or I should say, he started whimpering again since I hadn’t yet added my condolences to the mix. I asked who was responsible for taking him out but he couldn’t remember the correct name. Unfortunately for the guilty party, he’d already been ratted out by 2 other cousins (we are such a tight-knit family, really). So I told him to go take out the guilty party. Mind you, this is all in jest. I’m just trying to get the kid to laugh again. He may have taken me a little too seriously.

Guilty party was in luck as there were way too many people playing and Little Man was confused as to which one he was supposed to target. How he could forget one of his two favorite cousins is a little beyond me but OK.  He targeted poor Nathan instead. Ever see a 21-year old trying to play soccer while a 4-year old wraps up his legs? I’m amazed he didn’t injure himself trying to avoid injuring Little Man. I’m also amazed he managed to keep his shorts up around his waist. Nathan finally managed to extract himself and the game continues. For all of 20 seconds because that is how long it takes for Little Man to come charging over to the side lines to confer with the referees. According to him “that kid in the red shirt” wasn’t sharing the ball (oh, did I mention this kid couldn’t decide which team he was on so he’d just go with whomever had the ball?). The referees, in their infinite wisdom, told Little Man to put the “kid in the red shirt” in a time out. A ruling he was most enthusiastic (and vocal) about carrying out. So there is Nathan, in the middle of the soccer field sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce in time out.

Play resumes minus any more drama until Little Man runs up for some water. As he heads back for the game he pauses to tell me “Mommy I threw up in my mouth a little. Just a little.”

WHAT?  Oh no you don’t. Come back here. What did you just say? Did you say you threw up?

“Yes Mommy but it was in my mouth and just a little.  It’s no big deal Mommy. I fine.”

Yeah. Nice try. Water! NOW! Oh, and shade. Get your butt in the shade. No you are not going back to play until you cool down a bit.

And I proceed in an extremely lame attempt to explain heat stroke. To a 4-year old. He lasts all of 3 minutes in the shade and he’s off and running again with a promise that he won’t throw up again; that he’s fine. He did pinky swear that if he felt nauseous or faint he would come back to the shade and sit… for a very, very long time.

He really was fine which was good because otherwise I would have tossed him in the lake to cool him down and the poor kid can’t swim.

Lock It Up

I got home late tonight. As I was wolfing down dinner, I was asking John a ton of questions. Trying to squeeze in a ton of things in a short of period of time as possible as Little Man still hadn't taken a bath and it was pushing 9 PM.

Little Man was also trying to squeeze in as many conversations with me as possible. Juggling 2 conversations at once if very difficult but I managed. Or so I thought.

I wanted Little Man to clear his bowl and cup. He wanted to keep talking to me. No he can't clear and talk at the same time. He's my son.

So I'm sitting there. Trying to explain to him that he needs to clear his bowl and cup and then he can tell me his story. He thought it better to do it in the opposite order. I wasn't having any of it and insisted he listen to me.

He walked up to me and placed his hand over my mouth. I raised my eyebrows (can't do the single eye brow raise still) and reached for his hand. I was about to tell him quite sternly that he was not allowed to do that to me. You know, the whole "I'm the Parent" thing.

Before I could get two words out, he makes a twisting motion with his hand and says: "Lock it up".

I may be the parent but he's got me locked in his sights. I'm done for.

Vacation

Nothing like an impromptu vacation to revive the soul. John was planning on taking Little Man to New Jersey the weekend before the 4th. An off-hand comment from John wishing we could check out the Cape May fireworks sent me running to my boss the next day. Luckily I had more than enough time and with a promise to make all my deadlines, the vacation was set.

A full week at the Shore. Clean salty air. Beautiful ocean breezes. Plenty of sun. Most importantly, no sunburn. OK a can of sunscreen a day may have helped there. Daywalker I am not.

Vacation is supposed to be relaxing. Calm. Easy-going.

Apparently I don't do relaxing, calm, or easy-going. Little Man was finally old enough to enjoy all Cape May County had to offer and I was determined to cram in as much as possible.

The zoo was a definite. Unfortunately that was as impromptu as the vacation itself. After breakfast at Duffer's (cool train, not so cool food. Seriously, how do you mess up pancakes?) we decide to hit the zoo. For the first time in my life, I was subtle. John didn't pick up on the whole - hey we don't have sunscreen and your wife is Ginger who can make Casper look healthy so maybe we should swing by the house (which is on the way) and grab the sunscreen.

For the record, the Cape May County Zoo gift shop does not sell sunscreen. Bad zoo. Bad. I would gave paid the 100% markup. Trust me.

Crisis averted by staying in the shade as much as possible. Yes, I wandered the paths jumping from one shaded area to another.

I rushed Little Man a bit due to the lack of sunscreen and felt a tad guilty so I shelled out for the train ride. He then surprised me by asking to go on the carousel. He wouldn't get on any of the animals, opting instead for one of the carriages to sit in but hey, we got him on a carousel. I'll take it.

That was just the beginning of my lil imp discovering his inner daredevil.

A trip to the beach was next. 2 years ago proved unsuccessful as it was too loud for him. This time he was willing to go but refused to put his bathing suit on so I through it in the backpack. No sooner do we pick our spot then he plops down in the sand and starts digging with his bulldozer while his father and I try to get the towels laid out. Less than 5 minutes later he is covered in sand. 20 minutes later John convinces him to go check out the water. He wouldn't go deeper than his ankles but he loved it. Enough where I convinced him to return to the towels so I could get him in his bathing suit. He discovered the joys of wave jumping and even let me carry him further out where we spent a good amount of time jumping waves and spinning around in circles. Oh the memories and the wish that Dad was there to take part.

After several hours at the beach we returned to the house to clean up. John's parents redid the bathroom. They removed the bathtub and put in just a shower stall.

This kid doesn't do showers. He takes after his mom. I didn't like water in my face at his age. Neither does he. Rinsing the shampoo out of his hair involves a soap-eating shark (a facecloth) slowly devouring all the suds. Do you know how long that takes with extremely hard water? UGH! We were going to be there for hours. Thankfully they have a detachable shower head which he adored. I told him what I was going to do and then didn't give him a chance to think about it. John grabbed the shower head. I practically jammed the shark over his face and doused he was.

And he practically screamed.

With laughter.

2 successes in 2 days. Dare I press it? Hell yeah!

Once dressed we returned to the beach to hit the boardwalk. After many a skeeball games and a few others, we convinced him to leave the arcade (prizes in tow of course) and check out the rides. I figured the little cars and the boats that go around in a circle without leaving the ground would be the extent of it.

Nope. Airplanes and he wanted it all the way up. Carousel again (still no horses but no problem). Then on to the bumper cars. The look of poor joy on his face each time he bumped another child was hysterical. According to John, he showed signs of being a Boston driver. I couldn't have been more proud.

From there he wanted to hit the Tea Cups and the Tilt-a-Whirl. I managed to convince him to watch each first and then decide. Thankfully he decided they went to fast and he would wait until he was older. 8 PM and he's still jumping up and down for more rides. I distracted him with ice cream and managed to keep him from realizing other piers had different rides. He would have stayed until the place closed if he had his way.

I wasn't sure how to top that. Thankfully Aunt Lori came through with a great idea - mini golf. While he showed shades of Tiger Woods in the beginning, he would slip occasionally. He'd forget he was playing golf and play hockey instead. Said he was practicing for when he played for the Black and Gold. Man I love this kid.

Exhausted, I came home early leaving the boys to play for two more days. My grand plans for Sunday quickly faded as I took the day to recover. He kept up with me and then surpassed me. I need more energy. If he keeps this up, I'll need a month to recover from August.

Allergies

"Mommy, I have to tell you something and it's a little scary."

OK, what's so scary?

"Well, I'm a little scared of my room. It's telling me that it is a little creepy and too dark in there."

OK, well how about I turn on the lamp for you and then it won't be so creepy and dark. There. See, not so dark  and creepy now. You are fine. Go back to bed.

"Well you see Mommy. I'm allergic."

You're allergic? Allergic to what?

"Um, well, the dark. I'm allergic to the dark."

You're allergic to the dark?

"Yes, I'm allergic to the dark. My doctor told me so. I'm allergic to three things. I'm allergic to sleeping alone. I'm allergic to the dark. I'm allergic to the bright."

You are allergic to the dark and to the bright?

"Um, well... yes. I'm allergic to sleeping alone and to the dark. But if I sleep with someone else, I'm not allergic to the dark. I'm only allergic to the bright when I sleep with someone else. See, my doctor told me I am allergic to these three things and you know when I am allergic to these three things?"

No dear. Please enlighten me.

"When I turn 4. My doctor told me."

So if you sleep by yourself, it has to be bright otherwise if it is dark, you need to sleep with someone or you will be allergic?

"Yes Mommy. My doctor told me so."

Good thing your lamp is on. Have a goodnight sweetie.

"But... wait. I need to think about this. Let me scratch my head."

No problem child. You let me know when you've figured that one out. In the mean time, have a good night. I love you and I will see you in the morning.

To Have... or not to have

I have one child. A son.

For the record I done. No I am not having anymore.

The craving is gone.

I'm happy with what I have.

And yet people feel the need to ask me constantly when I'm having another.

I tell myself it is because I don't look my age. People think I'm younger than I am. Still in my prime baby-making age. Man ego is a great thing, isn't it?

I'm not but that isn't the reason. Like I said, the craving is gone. The factory is closed.

You'd think I praised Hitler or swore my undying love for Mussolini the way some people react. An only child? But only children are spoiled brats.

Really? Citation please and by citation I do not mean your own anecdotal evidence because my anecdotal evidence blows yours away. You'll tell me you knew an only child growing up and he/she was the biggest spoiled brat ever. My response? Without thinking I can list 5 that I know quite well and not one is a spoiled brat. All 6 are intelligent, thoughtful, caring individuals. 2 of the 6 are teenagers and 1 isn't even close to his preteens. Doing for others unselfishly is second nature of all 6 so pfft.

Believe it or not, some of us don't want large broods. Some of us are perfectly content with having one child.

I believe in population control. I do not want to contribute beyond what I have to the ever burgeoning overcrowding on this planet.

I also believe strongly in adoption. My own personal belief is it is incredibly selfish to have more than one child when there are plenty in this country alone in desperate need of a loving home.

This is my belief and I don't force my beliefs on anyone (except my son who is too young to know otherwise for the time being and I'm playing that card for as long as I can).

So if you want to have 2, 8, 10, 20 kids, go for it. That is your decision and I respect it. All I ask is you respect my decision.

By the way, respecting a person's decisions means keeping your mouth shut and not making comments.

Besides I already deal with the "I'm not touching you", "I know you are but what am I", "Why are you hitting yourself?" between my husband and my son. Why the hell would I want to add another to the mix?

Oh wait, I'm the one who does the "why are you hitting yourself"....

The Game of Life

No it isn't some catchy title for this entry. I'm not very good at those anyway. I am talking about the Milton Bradley game: The Game of Life.

Little Man discovered it in the closet today and wanted to play. John, being a good sport and having an overwhelming amount of patience today decided what the hell. I watch him set it up expecting Little Man to implement his own crazy rules after the first couple of spins. I mean what 4 year old isn't going to be instantly bored by the Game of Life.

Not mine. Granted, John did most of the work acting as his financial trustee but the kid stuck it through. He even announced right away that he wanted childrens (his word): 2 babies and 2 childs (again, his words. Mrs. Poole would be lecturing me on my lack of skills when it comes to teaching this child the English language). After all he had already obtained his college degree (doctor) and being a 21st Century child, why bother with the whole marriage thing first?

He convinced me to join in right as he was hitting retirement. I quickly became a teacher. Switched careers (on my husband's advice) and became an accountant. Then I promptly lost my job and had to start over as a professional athlete. Let's just say by "professional" they were talking the minor leagues based on my salary and I never made it to the Majors.

It was funny to watch the dynamics of the game play out. John and I, being somewhat seasoned at the real Game of Life, weren't willing to take too many chances. It panned out somewhat OK for each as we both retired with over a million (me barely, he was just shy of 2 million).

Our darling son? Cleared well over 2 million even after the gamble of the risky path didn't quite pan out. It was a minor hiccup in the grand scheme. As the first to retire, he played it smart and chose the option which would protect his assets in retirement. One that wouldn't allow the rest of us the opportunity to take advantage of the elderly. Fool... not this kid.

Typical of a normal day in this house. The parents weigh all the options and chose the safe route while the 4-year-old with little life experience to dim his optimism, jumps in feet first, eyes closed and steals the day.

Here's hoping it pays off in the long run for you kiddo.

Since your parents will retire one day.

And decide your house is the perfect retirement spot.

Just makes you all giddy with excitement doesn't it?