What does "vacation" mean?

As a stay-at-home mom, (which is a title I am not 100% in love with) I am struggling with what it means to be on vacation.  This summer a "vacation" meant cooking meals outside, washing dishes by lantern, getting fully dressed to use the bathroom, and packing and unpacking daily.  It seemed that I was doing most of my normal jobs, just in an outside environment. And as much as I like camping, really I do, it was exhausting.

Today starts my husband's vacation. He is home until the New Year, and that is very exciting. The boys are happy, I am happy, I think my husband is happy.  He doesn't have to go to work, no meetings, code writing, coffee breaks, lunch out with friends, bike rides on cool clear mornings.  He is home with us. Still un-showered, relaxing in the morning (he did get up with the boys this morning) and spending time with us.

But today as I explained on my way upstairs that I was going to take a nap. He asked, "Is this going to be a daily occurrence while I am on vacation?" I stopped, looked at him and asked, "What is a vacation for me?" Seriously, I want to know. Today, I drove the kids to a play-date, ran into 5 stores on Christmas related errands, picked them up by noon, drove home, did lunch & naps for the younger two, and then wanted to go lay down.

I can not explain the feeling I have when I go into my bedroom in the middle of the day. Close the blinds, turn off the monitor, turn up the sound machine, place a pillow over my head, and pull up the blanket.  It doesn't matter that Jack is up wondering what to do, Micah is in and out of his room doing something in the bathroom (I forgot to close the gate) and Finn is talking in his bed.  Brandon is home and I can check out for an hour (or two). It is a rare gift and one I absolutely love.

That is my vacation. That hour right there, where the dishes are still on the table, laundry is piled in the living room to fold, Christmas cards and crafts are still waiting to be finished, but I am in my room drifting off to sleep.  When I return to reality, dinner will need to be cooked, kids play-time will need to be supervised, and the list of things to do before the 24th is daunting.  I can't leave my job for vacation, my life is my job, and as much as I love my husband and my boys, I am in desperate need for a "vacation". 

So, if you call between the hours of 1-3 during the next week, chances are I will be unavailable.

I May Not Survive

Really, I am not being over dramatic, I don't know if I will survive raising my middle child.  My last post was about this boy and I hate to write two in a row, oh my goodness, this boy is something else.

I read a book once that said to list all of your child's traits and then turn them into positive words.  For example, stubborn would be determined, hyperactive would be athletic, cry baby would be emotionally sensitive. Today I was trying to think of what would be the positive to 'sneaky'.  Honestly, I couldn't come up with one.

Since Micah learned to climb out of his crib he has been a challenge to keep in his room. I know that I should have bought a crib-tent and been done with it, but I read a story of a toddler who strangled themselves in the tent trying to climb out. Figured that would happen to Micah.  So, instead, we put Micah in a toddler bed, even though he was 2 years old and we had a newborn baby in the house.  For the next 4 months I fought with Micah every nap and bedtime.  He would sneak out of his room, creep downstairs and secretly watch TV, he found my lotion in the bedroom and gave himself a facial, he found the toilet to be quite entertaining.  We would 'joke' that with such a creaky, squeaky floor, Micah was like a stealth ninja. You never heard him leave his room or come down the stairs. All of a sudden you would turn around and there would be a blond head at your elbow.

Now, you may be thinking, where were your parenting skills? Natural consequences? Time-outs? Spanking?  Did you not realize you were the adult and he is a 2 year old child? Um, yes I did, and I will totally admit he kicked my butt. It didn't matter what the consequence was or what parenting strategy we tried, Micah still escaped his room.

Finally, a wise woman suggested a gate outside his door, a way to contain him but not going so far as to put a lock on his door. Considering I was paying her $125/hr. I felt this was advice worth taking.  The gate was a lifesaver. Kept Micah in his room and I could breath easy during naptime when I was juggling all 3 kids, and also know that once I put him in his room at bedtime I was off the clock.

Recently we took the gate off the door. He is 3 1/2 now, potty trained and so much more responsible. I should have seen the warning signs, but I still believed in the good of my child.  Earlier this week Micah snuck out and took a whole box of Qtips into his room. When I went to get him at 3:00, it was like a Qtip explosion happened in his room. Qtips were everywhere, in his bed, on the floor, on the dresser, in Jack's bed. Some were whole, some were broken, and some were wet from being chewed on.  Serious consequences ensued, plus lots of crying. I felt like we were finally getting somewhere with this one.

Until today.  I was busy making dinner, cleaning up, talking to Jack. I had to get the boys up early and into the car at 2:00, so no sleeping for me!  It was so quite upstairs that I assumed Micah was asleep. Imagine my surprise when I went to get Micah up and found him hiding under his blanket. Micah, I said, what are you doing? No answer. That normally means trouble. I take off the blanket and find him in the fetal position hiding something under him. What now? I thought.

A BOX OF MATCHES

Seriously. Micah snuck of the room, went into the bathroom, on top of the dresser, to the little bowl in the back and found a box of matches I had mistakenly left there.  Matches were all over the bed. It was all I could do to not start yelling.  SAFETY ISSUE! I told him. He did not seem to care.  I called his dad, who said, "I think he needs to be spanked". I looked at Micah just grinning, not caring that he had just been playing in his bed amongst flammable blankets with a box of matches.  I did not feel spanking was going to be a good option right then because I was pretty upset.

Fast forward an hour.  We have established the consequences removed certain items from Micah's bedroom, and informed him he was going to bed right after dinner.

I swear to god this is what he said to me:
"Am I going to have playtime?" "NO"
"I don't like playtime"
"Am I going to have snack?" "NO"
"I don't like snack"
"Am I going to have a show?" "NO, no show, no snack, no playtime with daddy, no stories, no snuggles. You are in TROUBLE"
"Good, I don't like stories or playtime or snack or snuggles"

"Fine", I say. Then in a moment of awesome parenting I say: "Jack do you want to watch a movie tonight and eat popcorn?"  Of course he does! Can Micah?  NO

Micah: "I don't like movies and I'm not hungry for popcorn I ate enough at lunch. I just want to go to my room and go to bed. I like being in my room alone."

This one is going to be the death of me. I swear.

The Good Thing About Boys

When I had Finn (and yes I still have baby fever) and knew we would be a boy heavy family, I started a list in my head of the good things about having boys.

Some are obvious:

• No worries if a bathroom is unavailable
• No one to fight over the bathroom with
• I will (hopefully) always be the prettiest in the family

And of course:

• The lack of whining

Not that there is no whining at all, it just didn't seem to be as high in volume and frequency as little girls.  I was used to crazy energy, loud yelling, wrestling matches, and tantrums at about an 11, with my oldest son.  But he didn't really whine. 

Then along came this one:

And, OMG, does he whine. If you know this boy, this might shock you, but he has a total and complete monopoly on whining.  It doesn't seem to matter what it is: his brother took his toy, it's nap-time, he can't have dessert until he eats dinner, his sock feels wrong, his shoe is too tight, his brother got into the car first, dad tried to buckle his carseat, the water is draining from the tub, mom laid down with his brother first, he didn't get to pick the show, the list could go on and on.  Whatever the cause is, the outcome is the same. It starts out with just a little whine to his voice but quickly escalates into unintelligible, high pitched, sounds coming from this little body.

I love this boy. He is so me. The middle child, the one who most looks like me, and seems to have a very similar temperament.  No matter how much I love him and want to squeeze him and kiss on him, as soon as the whine appears, it is like fingernails on the chalkboard.

I know this too shall pass.  Definitely, by the time he is 15 and his voice changes, if not before. Today though, I shall have to think of a new item to add to my list.  No whining has been removed.  

I could add:

• Likes to eat boogers

But I'm not sure that is specific to boys.

What's Wrong With You?

That is the question my husband asked me today.  I think he framed it more politely, as in, "Are you feeling okay?"  But the underlying message was the same.

He asked this question after I said I was exhausted.  I think he was concerned because I was in bed last night by 10:00 and didn't get out of bed until 7:30 this morning. I will even admit that Brandon was up before me, even though I said I would totally get up with the baby today.  And yes, that is also admitting that I am not usually the one to get up first. Brandon totally wins the award for best husband in the "Getting up with the baby first" award. But whatever.

I did sleep well, woke up feeling good, but by 1:00 I was tired. Not just tired, exhausted. Wanted to either go lie down and sleep or cry. Either one would be okay.

When Brandon asked me if I was okay, my response was something like this: "Have you MET my kids?!" I would like to say that I actually said that in a nice polite way, but I didn't. It was pretty much exactly like that.

I have a 5 year old who only wants to watch TV, suck his thumb and rub his blanket, a 3 year old who cries if anyone even thinks of touching his stuff, and a 1 year old who is refusing naps.  After 4 hours of playing, cleaning, feeding, changing laundry, coloring, wiping butts, picking up, mediating fights, I was tired.

I don't think there is anything wrong with me, that a month long vacation sans kids couldn't fix.  But that is not the stage of life we are in. Instead I will take the next 2 hours, sit at a coffee shop, read, write, stalk blogs, drink coffee and breathe deep.  When I walk in the door, the kids will still be there, the to-do list will still be long, and the feeling of exhaustion will creep back.

But right now, Jimmy Eat World is playing on Pandora, I've got a latte in a real cup, and am taking a moment for myself.

Did You Hear the One?

Did you hear the one about two bats and a parrot who walk into a bar?

No, well, me neither. I just think they are pretty cute.

 Happy Halloween!

I Didn't Mean to Scare You

With the last post, I mean.  I was not making an ANNOUNCEMENT. Well, I was but in a different way.

I heard from a few of you that I thought I was going to say: "Baby #4 is on the way!" Truly that was not my intent.  In fact, it was the complete opposite. I wanted it to be recorded loud and clear that there will be: No. More. Baby. Lonacs.

What I was hoping to accomplish in my last post was to make sure everyone knew where we were at in our family size (MOM!).  From now on if I say "Guess What?" I do not want the first response to be: "You're Pregnant!!"  We are 99.9% sure we will not be having any more babies. So, please, put that far far from your mind.

I still remember sitting in a friends house one night, when a good friend made an announcement. "Guess what?" She said. No responses from us sitting there. "T. is going to be a big sister!"  Seeing as how her baby was 5 months old, my first thought was: "You're getting a dog?"  Obviously that did not make sense, but I couldn't imagine that the next words were going to be: "I'm pregnant!" That was a complete shock.

So for future reference (mostly this means you, mom) when I make an announcement, I hope the first thing you think of is: "Oh, they are getting another dog."

When Finn Turned 1

When Finn turned 1, I was desperate for another baby.  I knew his first birthday would be hard.  The last time we would do these specific traditions, but I didn't realize how much I would WANT another baby.  It was more then just "my baby is getting big" phase. I wanted to have four kids.

Since Finn was born I have been asked over and over "Are you going to try for a girl?" I would just laugh and say, "Do you think I would have a girl? 4 boys seem like a lot." But when Finn turned 1, I didn't care. 4 boys, 3 boys and a girl, 3 boys and twins. I would take any of it, I just wanted to have another baby.

On his birthday Brandon even was feeling some twinges of baby dreaming. When we were celebrating Finn's birthday with my family my grandma asked if we were done.  We looked at each other and smiled. Maybe not, I was thinking. Maybe we will have one more. I was giddy with the prospect of being pregnant, giving birth, holding one more little bitty baby.

But then we went camping. 3 days after Finn turned 1, we were sleeping in the tent trailer on the first of our marathon camping summer. Between the camping experience and Finn learning to walk, I changed my mind.

It wasn't just that 4 kids would be a lot, I don't think I could handle one more.  Finn was in the fire pit, trying to climb the slippery log, chasing after his brothers. I was exhausted.  The best part of the trip was when I fell asleep trying to get Finn to take a nap and stayed asleep. Otherwise, chasing the 3 boys around the campsite was exhausting, fun, but exhausting.

Now, we have only 1 boy in diapers. Everyone is walking. I only have to grab my purse when I leave the house. This is good.  I still miss being pregnant, I will really miss nursing, and I even miss going to the hospital to deliver the baby. I truly loved the experience having babies gave me and I will miss that.

But it is time to move on.  Look at the next stage where we are not focused on feeding schedules, nap-times, which parent is on point.  But can start to do more things as a family, go hiking, even biking, play games together.  This is good, I know it is.

 So, no more Lonac babies.  

Snip, snap, snout, this tales told out.  

Who Knew?

On my 30th birthday I did not have a fancy party, in fact, the actual day was spent driving to Grants Pass, OR and eating take-out in a motel.  But I did say that I was going to do something big when I turned 30. I narrowed it down to either, a tattoo, or fixing the gap in my front teeth.  Obviously, I chose the tattoo.  I loved my gap in my teeth, had always considered it to be kind of a family trait. One of my cousins on my dad's side has an even bigger gap. So, when I look at mine, I think of my dad's family and it feels like one more little connection.

Now I am turning 35, well not until next April, and the gap seems to be bigger then ever. It is in fact growing.  I asked my dentist and he confirmed that it was bigger and will continue to get bigger. This has caused me some serious anxiety. Maybe I should get it fixed now.  Close the gap, so to speak.

Then tonight I saw this.  Well, there you go. I think I am back in love with my gap.  It is not wide enough to hold a cigarette in, but it is handy as a straw holder.  I think I am going to have to find that documentary, a whole movie focused on 'gaptoothed' women?

Honey, I'm throwing away the night retainer, gaptoothed women are styling! Who Knew??!

I had great plans. Really great plans. I had a list of work related items to accomplish (MOPS, Sunday school, lesson planning) but then I was going to write. I was going to write several blog posts and just save them. I have had lots of ideas floating around in my head. I was so excited.

Then I spent 2 1/2 hours creating a flyer. A FLYER!! One that will probably not even be used or seen or even draw people in.  Nonetheless, I spent my entire free time trying to figure out how to add graphics, move those darn graphics, and add a border.  A BORDER! That took me a good half hour at least.

I used to be good at this. Creating newsletters, flyers, documents. First for my job as a program assistant at an adoption agency and then as a teacher.  5 years of motherhood and I am a total and complete novice. My husband would die if he saw the brutal text boxes, image copying, and font styles I have attempted. He would also be laughing at my 'think-hair' and the many times I threw my hands in the air and loudly *sighed*. In public, at a coffee shop. I am pretty sure the little girl sitting at the table next to me thinks I am crazy.

Alas, it is now 6:00, I only accomplished 1 thing on my todo list and it is time to go home.  Dinner, bed-time, clean-up, and I might attempt to get back on-line.  But if I do, I really should plan my lessons for Monday. Or for Sunday, for that matter. Or send out the RSVP's I promised I would do yesterday.

But gosh darn it, that flyer is done!

Mt. Rushmore

My MIL has this amazing talent to point out your every flaw. Case in point:

Last week we met my in-laws for dinner. Upon scooting into the booth, my MIL asks, "What is that on your face".

Umm, nothing.  Awkward silence as the other adults at the table avert their eyes because they are all aware what is on your face.

"No, right there that big red thing, what is it?" Nothing, seriously, don't worry about it.

"Do you need to see the doctor?" No.

"Is is some sort of bite?" NO.

"Did you get hit in the face by something while you were working outside, it looks bad." No, and no. Just drop it.

"But it is all red, and looks like it has some pus or something, it is all white on the end." I know what it looks like!

So much for pretending the Mt. Rushmore size zit on my face is "not noticeable" and yes by the time you are in your *ahem* thirties, I thought acne was a thing of the past. But I guess not and thanks, MIL, for destroying the illusion that maybe nobody would notice. Now, I feel so much better.

And Now, Micah's Turn

Least you think I have forgotten I have a 2nd son. Here is Micah's first day of preschool. The reason there are more pictures of Micah in his classroom is because his dad took him to school. He does not have the utter embarrassment gene that I do, that prohibits me from taking the camera into the classroom.

Happy first day, my second born!

Jack's First Day of Preschool - Take Two

If you have been anywhere near me this month this is old news to you. Jack started preschool, again. He is 5, he is not a summer birthday, and yes - he should be in kindergarten. But he is not.

Last spring he had his preschool 'graduation'. I was lackadaisical about the whole affair. My whole family was there, but that was just because we were on our way to Seaside, not because we were celebrating Jack's graduation. He wasn't graduating, he would be back in the same class again this fall.

Summer came and the thoughts of preschool vanished. We had a good summer, lots of camping, trying new adventures, and spending time together. It wasn't until all my friends started 'back-to-school' time that I remembered that Jack was supposed to be starting kindergarten. When school started all my friends on Facebook posted 1st day pictures. I purposely left mine off.

The night before his first day, even though it was the same class, same teacher, and even had friends he knew in it, I still heard: "Mom, I don't want to go to school". And sad tears. The day of school, we picked up his carpool friend and took off. He kissed us all goodbye and went alone into the room. I was just thinking how good preschool was going. He is talking about the day, getting ready in the morning on his own, and excited about going. Until today. It is Sunday night, preschool is tomorrow, and as I was tucking him into bed he said: "Mom, I don't want to go to school."

I'm glad I only have to do this 3 days a week. I am glad we have this year to be with him and to love on him. I hope that next year when he does go to kindergarten, the tears will be few and that he will walk into the room on his own after kissing us goodbye.

But for now, here it is, Jack's first day of preschool - take two:

"He Was the Love of my Life"

My mom said this to me today at lunch. She started by saying, "I was trying to decide which boy I liked best..." and I thought, I have 3 boys and are you really going to tell me which is your favorite?? But then she went on and said, "But your dad, he was the love of my life."

To know why that is important is to know 2 things:

1. The two boys she was referring to were brothers

2. Both died in tragic car accidents when they were young

Yesterday was 32 years since my dad died. Most years the anniversary passes without a comment. Something my mom and my sister and I deal with on our own, but rarely together. Today when my mom came to my house I showed her a new picture frame I had hung up. It had places for 6 different pictures and I took out really old, bad family pictures and replaced them with pictures of the family I never really knew. My mom, my sister, my grandma, and of course my dad. I have one picture, the only one I think, that has my dad, mom, and me. That is all, no sister, no other family, just us. Another one shows my dad with an open wide smile. I have many pictures of him smiling. But they are more of a smirk. The look I can imagine him giving to make the girls swoon. This picture, though, shows him laughing, looking genuinely happy.

Today my mom gave me more memories to store away. Finding out my dad loved mayonnaise, in fact, did not believe there was such a thing as too much mayonnaise. I, on the other hand, vomit at the sight of mayonnaise and can not stand it. Kind of limits my choices of potluck salads, to be sure. He also loved tuna noodle casserole and green peppers. But the best thing my mom told me today was that my dad taught her how to make 'Swedish Pancakes'. These are not like the pancakes you find in restaurants, but are what I grew up eating. Now, I make them for my boys. I did not know that the recipe I have finally committed to memory, is the same one he taught my mom to make.

"I had a dream years ago" my mom said, " that I would one day have Carlson boys." Then she looked at my middle son and said, "You have one. And when I say Carlson boys - I mean that in the best possible way." I love all my boys, but my heart has a soft spot for the little boy who most looks like me, and therefore like my dad.

Everybody Dance Now

I found this video clip over on dooce.com and of course loved it. What does it say about me, that several of my favorite movies are in this clip?

Obviously, it means I have fantastic taste in movies. Mama Mia, Seven Brides, Footloose, Grease, and of course Dirty Dancing, just to name a few.

If only I could dance like that. Although, if you put on some old school country on the radio during the 5:00 hour, you just may seem some pretty spectacular dance moves. Just as long as my feet don't move, I am a pretty awesome dancer.

Oh, How I Love This Man

There are the obvious reasons:

• He gave me my 3 beautiful boys
• He thinks I'm hot
• He makes spandex look good

Then there are the less obvious reasons:

• He willingly drives to Colorado on a 3-day weekend because I am too scared to fly
• He loves to go on roller coasters and sit in the front row
• He makes a mean rosette
• He keeps me warm at night
• He is handy with his hands - in building things, you dirty minds!
• He will always say yes to coffee
• He makes awesome Saturday morning pancakes
• He offers to rub lotion on my feet frequently
• He is secure enough in his manhood to purchase a pink bicycle for his keychain

And of course:

• He can rock a pair of man-capris

What's not to love?

Highs & Lows

A few weeks ago, after the aforementioned camping trip, we were lucky enough to go on another trip. This time to SunRiver, Oregon and this time in a house. I have to admit, it probably didn't matter where we went, what we did, or what the weather was like, simply because we were in a house.

This trip was with my husband's family and I learned something interesting about his brother and his family. After each trip they take, they record their "Highs & Lows" from that trip. Normally, right when they are driving home and the trip is still fresh in their mind. Everyone contributes something to the list and they have a great record to remind them of the good and not so good moments.

Here are my "Highs & Lows" from SunRiver:

Highs:

• Did I mention we were in a house? Total high.
• Perfect weather, not too hot.
• FREE swimming at THREE pools. That right there was well worth the drive.
• Tot pools at each pool that I could lounge in while the boys were relatively safe.
• Good conversation/laughter with brother and sister-in-law.
• Dinner at the Trout House - mmm beef.
• Horseback ride with my sister-in-law.
• Coffee delivered to me each day.
• Mid-afternoon ice cream breaks.
• French Dip sandwich in Bend, Or. #1 on my list of best French Dips.

Lows:

• The five of us sleeping in a room meant for 2. After the first night the baby got kicked out and moved into the laundry room. Slightly better sleeping arrangement. (I will totally not mention the suite with it's own bathroom and walk-in closet that someone who will remain nameless slept in)
• Going on a horseback ride immediately following my first bike ride in 10 years. Can you say "OUCH!"
• Thinking I was looking pretty hot in my new bathing suit while sitting in the Tot pool, not knowing I had the biggest mucus blob dripping down my arm.
• The amount of alone time my husband had vs. me. And yes, I did keep track.
• Being called home for dinner the ONE time I was having a great adult conversation.
• The Incredible Shrinking Woman - enough said.
• Dogs who are not housebroken.
• Finn earning the new nick-name: Turd-burglar. Let's just say: too much fruit + diaper rash + naked time = a really big mess. Even the dogs were in awe.

This ends our vacation plans for this summer. As much fun as it was, I am awfully glad to be home. Even better is to be putting all the suitcases, sleeping bags and camping equipment into the basement.

Home Sweet Home.

The Best Part of my Vacation

A few weeks ago my family started a 10 day camping/driving vacation. We began our adventure in Cle Ellum, and finished in San Jose. In between we spent 6 nights camping. Let me say that again: SIX NIGHTS CAMPING. Consecutively if you were wondering. That is 4 more nights then I usually do.

Before we left on vacation I was a little cranky. Before we even left Seattle I had my earphones in and was listening to my ipod. And yes, I realize that makes me sound like a 15 year old girl, but whatever. After regaining some equilibrium, I talked to my husband about finding alone time on this trip. Even if it was just a walk around the campground. Anything that gave me a sense of being alone. Away from kids, husband, and dog. This was a great idea, my husband thought, anything that makes me less crazy is good.

Unfortunately, as much as I wanted alone time, my husband was supportive of alone time, camping with 3 kids age 5 and younger, does not allow for any alone time. There was always someone who needed changing, feeding, or put to bed. It was good, but very busy.

The first campground we stayed at was nice. It was, just it had a lot of mosquitoes, dust, heat, and a bear. It also had no showers. I knew that going into the weekend and I was prepared for 3 days without a shower. On Sunday, we packed up and left WA headed to the Oregon coast. By this time I was sweaty, dusty, stinky, and so looking forward to a shower.

As always, the drive took us longer then we thought and it was dark before we pulled into the campsite. We were a flurry of setting up, cooking dinner, cleaning up, getting kids to bed, visiting with family, that the chance to be alone did not happen. But at 10:00 at night, the kids were asleep, the campsite was cleaned up and I realized I could take a shower. I was nervous about how long it would take to pack up in the morning and thought a shower at night was a good idea.

If you had been anywhere in the vicinity of Seaside Oregon that night, you would have heard this: "aaaaaaahhhhh!!!". That was the sound I made as I stood under the hot stinging water and had my first shower in days. I stayed in that shower, way past what was needed to get clean. I figured if I hadn't showered in a couple of days I could use more water since I had been helping with water conservation. I scrubbed, rinsed, repeated until there was nothing more to do. Then I regretfully turned off the water.

The shower was in a room with a locked door. I had been in the shower so long the room was warm and full of steam. It was heavenly. I slowly got dressed, gathered my things, and put on my shoes. I knew the minute I left the room, I would begin to gather dirt, campfire smoke, and people. This was my last few moments to be clean and alone. I waited until there was nothing left to do and slowly made my way back to the campsite.

I went to bed that night, still warm from the shower. Loving that my feet were clean as I crawled into bed. This was such an incredible experience I could not wait to do it again at the next campsite. I not only was able to get clean, I had some much needed alone time.

I did learn, upon repeating this experience the next night, a shower at 10:00 at night in a campground is only enjoyable when you are in a single stall with a locked door. When you are in a room full of stalls and a door that is unlocked, any and all scary movies you have ever seen come rushing back to you. I did not find the 2nd shower to be anywhere near as good as the first. But since I finished my camping experience at a campground with pit toilets and sheriff deputies, I will be thankful for the brief moments of quiet I was able to grab onto.

If only....

If only I had known about this then maybe I wouldn't be having such baby withdrawals right now. Think about the 'fun' things I could have made and saved for my boys. I am sure that they would be so happy to take this special memento and save it for their future wife and children.

Hmm, maybe this means I do need to have another baby.

Reality

Today as I was finishing getting ready, I thought: "Hmm, well I will look better when I put on make-up". Then I realized I was already wearing make-up.

It is going to be that kind of day.

My Day in Pictures

A riff on 10 on 10....

Home again home again,

Safe at last