Travel Sanity Wrap-Up

As a wrap up on my how to keep your kids busy and yourself sane while traveling with your kids posts, I've put together the prize portion.


I haven't posted this part sooner because the kids read my blog and I didn't want the boys tearing apart the house looking for the stuff I had stashed away.


The prizes are nothing crazy but a surprise is a surprise and you'd be surprised at what little things kids can find entertaining.


Prizes can be handed out for winning a Bingo game, a page of Hangman or assembling the Wooden Cube the quickest. Whatever seems like it would be fun. Ultimately they have to share but digging around in the prize bag can be fun.


Or you can just hand them out if you run out of things to keep them occupied. Whatever works.


Remember, it's all about your sanity.


My bag of tricks consists of Shrek Silly Bands, Glow In the Dark - Bracelets, Pool toys and a selection of gum and chewy candies. Don't knock the sugar moms. It's a long car ride.







I also have a bag of sparkly pipe cleaners to make flower rings. Jen on the Edge gave me the idea and I used this tutorial from Wendy the Pipe Cleaner Lady to teach myself how to do it.



Well, people that completes my bag of tricks. I'm off to finish packing the car.



Hopefully there will be room for the kids once I get everything inside.

I Have No Words...Mostly

I am very rarely at a loss for words but my lunchtime trek through Target produced these retina burners:

Adult size footie pajamas.

I. Am. Not. Joking.

I'm fairly certain that the models had the 'head cutoff' written into their contracts because no one in their right mind would want pictures of themselves splashed all over the internet wearing these ridiculous get ups.

They're even equipped with pockets. Just incase you need a place to stuff a random tissue.

Mother of God. I couldn't help myself. After flipping through the rack I realized they came in different designs.








I can honestly say that if I was looking for something to effectively end any after hour 'fun-time' between me and the BF a pair of these would do it.

I'd love to know the demograpic behind these babies. How do you even market these? I think I'd rather wear a Snuggie. In public.

**All pictures are from the Target website...search Nick & Nora Pajamas.

Parents are Full of Contradictions

Last weekend the Kid and I travelled home to watch my oldest nephew Ant's soccer game. I introduced my brother's hoard in a previous post, but for those that are new, Ant is 5 and this is his first season of soccer.

Since my family is Italian, we know how to support en masse. Our side consisted of my parents, my SIL's parents, me, the Kid, my brother, my SIL and their other 2 children. So we pretty much made up two thirds of the side line.

I love sports at this age, especially soccer, it should be called Swarm Ball instead because there's always a crowd of kids around the ball. Inevitably there is crying and some form of a tantrum with a small amount of carrying-on thrown in for good measure.

Soccer at this age is a contradiction to EVERYTHING we have taught our kids up to this point.

-Share.

-Do not just take a toy (i.e. the ball) away from someone else if they're playing with it.

-No pushing, shoving, or bad touching.

-Be polite.

-If you're both going for the same toy and the other person gets there first you should either ask to play with them or wait for your turn.

Do you see how all of these things can get in the way of playing the game?

Kids from both sides were running up to the ball then stopping to look at each other, look at the coach, look at their mom on the side line, all in a complete panic because they didn't know what to do.

You could just see the wheels turning in their little heads:

Take the ball? Let the other kid have the ball? Am I going to be in trouble if I take the ball?

All the while parents on both sides of the field, us included, are screaming and crazily gesturing to their kids to get the ball, run, run, run, kick it in!

Oh, the confusion.

Lord how I wish I had a video camera on me.

At one point every last child on the field followed the ball into the goal area. As in all 10 of them were squished into the net.

I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard.

But when Ant scored a goal and proceeded to jump up and down doing his own version of a victory dance we cheered like it was the World Cup.

Random Kid Convo of the Week

Anyone out there have a teenage boy(s)? Yeah. Me too. Feel my pain.

The Kid: Mom, I joined the field hockey team.

Me: Isn't field hockey for girls?

The Kid: The gym teacher said I could play. They needed more players and she's only teaching them in the gym after school.

Me: And which girl is the one you like? Because we both know it isn't your love of field hockey that made you sign up.

The Kid: Shut up. There's no girl.

Me: BFF* has something to do with this doesn't she?
(*The Kid's BFF is a girl - they've been friends since the 5th grade. Or maybe the 3rd. I've lost track. The girlfriends come and go but she remains. Go figure.)

The Kid: Yeah. She wanted to play so she talked me into it.

Me: What? She couldn't get any of her girl-friends to go with her?

The Kid: Nope.

Me: I really hope there are uniforms involved.

The Kid: Why?

Me: Cuz, you're going to look great in a skirt.

The Kid: ....

Ya, gotta love the silence. *snicker*

Some Trends Should NOT Be Brought Back

One Crazy Brunette hosts Blog Stalk Friday, she's an awesome read but she's tough as nails so read the rules before you link to her.

My best friend and I have had an on going battle regarding clogs circa 1984.

She hearts them with stars and glittery unicorn kisses. I loathe them with the fire of a thousand suns and imagine the shower scene from Psycho, only with clogs, whenever I think of them.

I swear on my favorite stilettos this text message conversation actually took place:

Moi: I just got an email from DSW telling me that clogs are going to be all the rage this fall. I think I might die.

Her: You know you want a pair. Clogs rule.

Moi: It. Will. Never. Happen.

2 weeks later...

Her: I'm in Barnes & Noble and there's a woman wearing CLOGS. The 80's kind. They make a clopping sound when she walks! It's awesome!

Moi: Clopping makes me think of horses. I prefer to clip or at the very least clack when I walk. I refuse to buy shoes that make me think of hooves.

So far it's been silence from her side but if I know her, and I do, she's gathering her army of clog lovers to mount an offensive.

I'd rather go barefoot.

The Transformation of the Muffin Top

Do you know what 12 years of dance lessons will get you? Especially when a good portion of the those years consisted of ballet lessons.

A flat ass.

And not in a good way. Part of this is hereditary (thanks mom) but the rest is definitely caused by countless hours at the ballet bar.

I must have heard "Shoulders back, chin up, tuck under, and suck in." 3,643,765,999 times.

And 1, and 2 and tuck and 4, and shoul-ders back...you get the idea.

I also have fantastic posture but that really doesn't do much other than make me look taller when I wear heels.

So after countless minutes/miles on the treadmill and the elliptical machine these past few weeks, much to my surprise I've discovered that my butt isn't quite as flat as it used to be.

As matter of fact I think my slight muffin top has redistributed itself to my butt.

I think this mostly because I haven't really lost any weight in the last week and all of my jeans are to big around the waist.

Score!

On a completely random but exercise related note.

Does anyone know why someone would use the elliptical machine while clenching a dish towel in their mouth?

I'm not joking.

There was a guy the other day with a green dish towel hanging out of his mouth while he was jogging away.

Maybe I've been doing it wrong this whole time?

Anyone?

My mother used to threaten to sell us to the Gypsies. Can we still do that? Cuz that's about where I'm at.

Update: God people! One of you couldn't have pointed out that I totally spelt gypsy wrong? I can take the criticism.

This one is for anyone that has dogs, teenage boys or both as would be my scenario.

The boyfriend kindly told me last night he would appreciate it if I would please stop yelling. Not that I've been yelling at him. I've mostly been yelling at the three dogs in the house and my teenage son for good measure.

Let's back up.

The Ex travels for business and needed a dog sitter for this past week. Since they were my dogs while we were married I kinda miss them. That and the Lab could use a couple of friends around the house during the day. I'm pretty sure he surfs the internet and sleeps on my bed while I'm at work. Lazy free-loader.

In come Nina and Nicci (Nee-Chee). Some of my long time readers met them here. They really need to be seen to be believed.

So for anyone that's new, Nina is my son's 6 lb Chihuahua/Mini Dobey Mix, a Chiwoberman, or as I prefer, a Doberhuahua. Over the past 4 years my Ex has turned her into a 12 lb Doberhuahua. The two of them really need to lay off the pizza.

Then there's Nicci, the pug. He sucks up to my son like his shadow. He follows him around, sleeps at the end of his bed and mostly worships the ground he walks on.

If you have a pug you know that they're lazy snot-shooters who don't do anything quickly, ours also has selective hearing. In other words, they're perfect for teenage boys who coincidentally are lazy, do nothing quickly, selective listeners, and although I haven't witnessed it, probably snot-shooters too.

As it turns out Nina and our Lab, Hooper, are both attention whores. They have been in my face every minute I've been vertical for the past 6 days. Nina's been in my face every second I've been horizontal. Mostly because she can jump on the bed and Hooper can't, which leads to whining at the end of my bed.

Nicci could care less if I give him attention, provided the boy is home to suck up too, he would prefer it if the other two would shut the hell up because they're interrupting his nap on the couch. Yet another cause for whining because Hooper's not allowed on the couch.

All of this dog-drama has completely exacerbated my parental pet peeve of the 'sagging pants'. This is an on going battle between the Kid and I. Since when did it become a fashion statement to look like you're wearing a diaper? I can not grasp the concept of slapping on a pair of skinny jeans and then wearing them half way down your butt. Granted you don't need to pull them up to your chin but I'm really not interested in seeing the latest trend in Hollister boxers.

Dude, not only did I buy them, I do your laundry so, yeah, I see them enough already.

Makes me absolutely nuts.

All of this has led to my multiple outbursts of:

Dogs: "Get out of my face for 5 minutes!"

Kid: "Pull up your pants!"

Dogs: "Get out of the bathroom! I can do it myself!"

Kid: "Use a damn belt!"

Dogs: "Just go outside!"

Kid: "When I say use a belt, I mean on a hole that works!"

Dogs: "STOP whining!"

Kid: "PULL UP YOUR PANTS!"

Do you think they're in it together? This conspiracy to drive me over the edge?

Yeah, that's what I thought too.

Convo with the Boyfriend

Recently I joined a gym because frankly my 90 year old grandmother could've outstripped me in a lap around the mall and I figured I should probably do something about that.

I'm about 3 weeks into this venture when the Boyfriend comes out with this gem:

Him: You look pretty good after 3 weeks at the gym.

Me: Thanks. I feel pretty good. Why are you making that face?

Him: I think your boobs might be shrinking.

Fantastic! Cuz that's exactly what I was hoping would shrink.

Um, not.

Random Kid Convo of the Week

More proof we totally ROCK!

Me: I love that new Kesha song.

The Kid: And you thought she'd be a one hit wonder.

Me: Dude, anyplace with glitter on the floor, I'm totally in.

The Kid: Duh. You know how I feel about glitter.

(High five.)

Me: True.

Bet your kid didn't get glitter banned from summer camp.

Forever.

Is There Such a Thing as an Organic Marshmallow?

It's official. The BF and I have become old.

This weekend...

We could've gone to my parents place in Maine...ugh the traffic.

We could've gone to his dad's place on the Cape...ugh the Rip Tides. Stupid hurricane.

We could've taken the boat out on the lake to go tubing...ugh the wind. Stupid hurricane again.

We spent Labor Day weekend...

at home.

And I have to admit it wasn't bad.

Last weekend the BF and I turned the hole the dog would not stop digging in the yard into a fire pit. We were pretty MacGyver about it too. We used the leftover patio bricks to form the circle and the play sand in the garage left over from last winter for the bottom.

Personally, I say hooray for recycling.

So, Saturday night after the gale force winds died down the BF lit a fire and the kids gathered around it with marshmallows as if we had never seen nature before.

The Littlest Kid: These marshmallows are squishy.

The Chica: We got them yesterday at Whole Foods.

The Kid: Organic Marshmallows?

Me: Don't now. Do they taste different?

The Kid: The insides melt.

(Coyote howls)

The Littlest Kid: Did you hear that?

The BF: It's a coyote.

The Littlest Kid: (on the verge of freaking out - scanning the pitch black back yard) In the yard?!

The BF: No, like a mile away.

Me: The dog would be apeshit spastic if there was a coyote in the yard.

The Littlest Kid: He's. In. The. House! Are they going to kill something?! Is there more than one?! Are you sure they're NOT in the yard?!

The BF: Forget about the coyote, look up.

The Kid, The Chica, and the Littlest Kid all look up: (in unison) coooooollllll. They don't have those in the city.

Stars. Hundreds of them.

To Sweat or Not to Sweat

I did something I thought I would never do.

I joined a gym.

There's a Planet Fitness not too far from my house that was having some kind of special. Since, I don't watch tv and I change the channel on the radio at lightning speed once the music ends I've successfully managed to avoid any type of gym advertising. So, in spite of my trying to remain anonymous, the Fates pretty much slapped me in the face in the form of a flyer that came in my mailbox.

As soon as I opened it I could hear the voice of my doctor at my last appointment..."You know, at your age things are beginning to settle. You should really consider some type of exercise program."

Wench.

So, as I'm hearing her voice in my head I'm googling Planet Fitness to see if I can sign up on line. And much to my horror delight, I can.

You'd have thought I would've realized that sweating was going to be a by-product of using my new BFF, the treadmill.

I should tell you that I am not a big fan of sweating. Or as us ladies say...glistening.

I must say that I've found that I like going to the gym. In a week I've walked myself to 8 less pounds (I know it's just water weight. Don't ruin my high.) and discovered a whole knew world of exercise weirdos.

There's this one guy that runs with HUGE strides, at the same pace, for 45 minutes. Like. A. Machine. He's like the bionic man.

Then there was this woman the other day on the treadmill in front of me drinking Diet Dr. Pepper while she was walking. That seemed counter productive to me but hey, I'm new at this so what did I know.

Then there are the people who set the treadmill speed at 'Running from an ax murderer/Terrified for My Life' and clutch the top monitor portion as they flail around run crazily for 30 minutes.

I may have only been doing this for a week but I have figured out that 45 minutes of Hills at speed 3.5 will make me glisten.

Oh, and I've mastered how to use the 'down' arrow on the speed setting for the treadmill.

So as not to fly off the back of the machine.

The Police Notebook

It should come as no surprise to anyone that I don't read the newspaper. Frankly, it's full of negative stories and is so depressing that I'd rather just skip it. I have enough reality in my day thank you.

Smalltownville has a local paper that covers the goings on of itself and a few of the surrounding smaller towns. Normally I'd skip this too but it was laying on the island so I thought I'd give it a look.

That's when the hilarity began.

As with most town papers they have a police log or as they call it, The Police Notebook. I'm going to share some of my favorites:

9:21am Caller has questions regarding bear sightings (This is why we keep the trash bins in the garage.)

8:55pm Multiple images of male genitalia spray painted on center line of Blank St. (I drive on this street every day to get to work and I didn't see anything.)

10:41am Caller reporting that there is a squirrel behaving strangely. (All the squirrels in my yard behave like they have ADHD.)

2:10pm Request that officer speak with children who keep removing their seat belts. (Seriously, really? Parents, you wonder why your kids don't listen to you when they become teenagers. Be. The. Parent.)

3:47pm Golden Retriever running in the middle of the road. (This is news?)

1:19pm Person cut grass and left strip of clippings in the road. (So?)

12:10pm Drill rig broken down. (Uh-huh.)

5:53pm Golden Retriever in middle of road. (Again)

7:51pm Caller unable to care for stray male cat. (Then why did you take it in?)

10:41am Cows loose. (Excellent! I love a good cow roundup.)

9:02 am Walk-in with fishing hook in her finger. Officer Removed. (Honestly, someone obviously has a thing for said officer.)

Moving from the city where the police log consisted of daily stabbings, shootings, muggings and DUI's I'm definitely torn between the squirrel and the fish hook as to which was my favorite.

Anyone have any wacky newspaper stories? It's time to share.