I'm going to be shark bait.

Remember when the kids got sick?  And then the husband got sick?  And then I got sick?  Remember that???  Well, somewhere in that time frame, I snapped.  I frigging lost it.  Had enough with sick kids, sick husband and sick me.  I snapped like a twig.  

I did the unthinkable, called the husband at work and begged, pleaded and then demanded he come home and help me out.  I may have suggested I was going to throw myself out an upper window, or something that drastic, to get his attention.  I may have put that suggestion into his head, I don't know.  I was exhausted, I was feverish and I was quite possibly hallucinating.  

And I may have thrown a fit like a two year old asking, begging, pleading that he please go to Walgreen's and get antibiotics for all of us or I may throw myself out that same upper window again.  Now to be clear, if I did throw myself out that window I'd land in the bushes, probably break an arm, or some other extraneous appendage, and then I'd still have to clean the kitchen and make dinner because the fall would merely maim and not completely do me in.  

Anyway, in my delirium and feverish state I may have said something along the lines of, "I need a break.  I can't do this.  I can't have you sick people all needy and depending on me when I'm sick.  Why, why, WHY, can't our kids just sit in front of the TV?  Why can't anyone just eat a regular pizza and not puke?  And WHY is it so frigging cold in here?"

To which my patron saint of a husband had the stones to say, "Hon, it's not cold in here, you're burning up." And then, thinking I was more lucid and in a more adventurous mood than I really was, he said, "I can't help if the kids got your genes and don't like pizza."   

In hindsight I know he was trying to be funny but trying to be funny with your wife who's not showered in three days, handled more puke than necessary in any one lifetime, and has been without sleep and sick herself for the last week was probably not in his best interest.   

No, I know it wasn't in his best interest.  

And that's where I snapped.

"I can't do this.  I need a break.  I'm sick.  I can't be in charge of everything when I think there is a pony in the kitchen and can't you empty the damn dishwasher?  And for the record, I do not have bad genes.  They come from your family!"

I said a lot more than that but it was all nasty, mean and not necessarily true.  There was no pony in our kitchen.  My husband backed out of the corner I put him in and the next day surprised me by saying, "I've worked it out and we're going away for a week.  No kids, no nothing, just you and me."

And for a brief moment I was happy, I had an out.  I knew there was an end in sight.  And then I asked him, "When are we going?"  Knowing that one week out of four were pretty good odds but still...

And as it turns out, we're going down to Sanibel.  For one solid week, we'll have no kids, no nothing, just the two of us.  And one tag along bag full of tampons, pads and pain killers.

I'm going to be shark bait, chum.

AWESOME.

Wait.  You don't think that was his plan all along, do you?

I'm a danger to myself...but I can guest post with the best of them. I think.

I'm over at SPD Blogger Network today talking about summertime activities.  Please pop on over and show some love.

Before I sign off, I'll tell you something that happened this past week.....I was putting away our sunscreen other day.  Well, let me rephrase that, I shoved it in a basket, in the garage, to sort out later.  So when later happened, namely around noon the next day, I reached in the basket to get the sunscreen and I got the shit zapped out of my hand.

"OUCH.  GAWD.  FUCK.  What in the hell was that?"  I ripped my hand out of the basket and smashed the shit out of it on the underside of the shelf the basket was sitting on.

"OUCH.  GAWD.  FUCK.  You have got to be kidding me!  What the fuckety-fuck else is going to happen?"  I mumbled as I cradled my limp paw in my other arm.  I was still trying to figure out if I had peed a little bit from whatever tazed me, it shocked me that bad.  My fingers were both on fire and numb at the same time.  Not peasant.

And now the back of my hand hurt.  

Great, just great.

I looked in the basket to find this tennis racket.  Only it wasn't a tennis racket, it was some bug zapper thingie my husband bought and put in the basket of crap.  And it was still turned on.

I got tazed by a fucking bug zapper.

And the back of my hand was really hurting.  My fingertips were getting less numb and tingly but gaw fuck, my hand really hurt.

That is an awesome bit of information right there.  

I looked down and the back of my hand was swelling up.  I smacked my hand so hard on the garage shelf it burst a vessel.  Thanks to my back hurting, I've been on non-steroidals and a glorious side affect?  It thins the blood.  So when I smacked my hand and broke a vessel, it swelled up like a tick.  All this blood was sloshing around on the top of my hand.

I almost threw up.

And that was the point in which I gave up.  I went inside and sat down.  I called my husband, started crying and put ice on my hand.  I managed to elevate it and found an ace bandage and covered it up so I didn't have to look at it.

I guess getting tazed is what it takes to get me to slow down.  

So I'm slowing down.

I should be back on Monday but I make no promises.  I'm going in for some work on my back later today since its not healed up quite as nicely as we would have liked.  

Never in a million years did I think I'd have back pain.  I'm pretty fit, not too fat and don't generally do stupid things.  Wait that last part is a total lie.  I invent stupid things.  And I do them on a regular basis.

Anyway, go and show Pam some love at i Love Shelling if you want to see some pretty shells and me standing upright without a tazed hand and make your way to SPD Blogger Network to see what I have to say about being outside.

Thanks you guys.  Please know I'm doing what I can to survive summer and my kids....and you are a big part of that.

Thank you.

There should be a rehab program for people like me...

Time for me to dish about what we did on vacation.  Early on, Alex found a Monopoly game.  We played Monopoly for two weeks.  The end.

No really, that was about it.  From there on out, it was Monopoly all day, all night.  Sure we did other things, which no doubt I'll spill, but for us it was beach vacation spent mostly indoors playing Monopoly.  

Alex kicked my ass every time we played.  Every Single Time.  

Apparently I have a little money launderer on my hands.  At best, I've got a kid working out the finer details of a Ponzi scheme.  

He'd set up houses on Boardwalk and Park Place and bleed me dry with all his damn rent money.  I wound up mortgaging my measly homes on Vermont and Oriental.  And that was when I wasn't in jail.  

And do you want to know a secret???

I hate Monopoly.  

I can't stand having to calculate how much money I get from bank after every transaction and how much money I owe in taxes.  Those Chance cards are a bunch of ass-hats and that damn luxury tax can go straight to hell.  Don't even get me started on that horrible douche called Community Chest.  And fast play?  What in the hell is that??? 

More to the truth, I hate that little cackle my son gets every time he sticks his hand out and waggles it around demanding his dang rent money.  

When we were able to drag him out to the beach, all we were talking about was Monopoly, "Do you know it's my turn next, mom?  And do you think we can make a Monopoly game in the sand?  Do you know you've almost lost?  You're pretty close to losing, just so you know."   

When we were biking, "Do you think the Monopoly game will be all right by itself?  And do you know, you only have $20 left?  Those odds are definitely in my favor."  

"Bloody Hell, Wait For Me!
Wait for your fricking mother!!!"

Before bed, "It's too bad I beat you mom, maybe I should play with Dad next time."  

Yeah kid, go play with your father.  

And he did.  And for the rest of the trip he was happy.  He had some real competition and I had the Monopoly monkey off my back.    

Everything was fine, till we had to go.  We had to leave the blessed game behind.  With promises of a brand new game, we headed back to Kansas.  

As soon as we got off the plane and we got the kids settled at home, I went out and bought a Monopoly game.  Normally I don't go out just handing out toys and games for the kids, they have to earn it or something.  But you know, there are times when I value my sanity and a little peace and quiet and this was one of those times.  Right as the wheels hit pavement, he was asking for it and that's no way to live.  I bought that damn game in record time.

And you should have seen him.  His eyes lit up like a thousand stars when he saw it and he fondled that box in a way that made me slightly uncomfortable.  

And now we have a new Monopoly game taking up space in the dining room.  He's still kicking my ass, demanding his rent money and cackling his way to victory.  

Somehow I'm right back to where I started, minus the beach and shells.  I feel cheated, robbed even...and by my own kid.

I don't even know how these things happen....I mean, I get it in theory but really?  Really??  I'm over being beaten by my own kid.  He's enjoying this way too much.

Gaw, I hate Monopoly.  

     

I'll take a stint in the Sanibel slammer.

Today's Friday.  I know I'm stating the obvious but there it is.  This is the day we play around with Ryan Gosling like we're married to him and it's all good.  Not at all like that nutter Cody and his four wives over on TLC.  That dude and his family make me look like a model citizen.

Seriously Cody? Get a haircut.  I don't know how they all willingly bang you but they do.

Anyway, please go over and see Sunday at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood and visit the other blogs joining in today and don't forget to wear your Poise.  I promise you will piss your pants.

So what you don't know is that we will be working our way towards Sanibel tomorrow.  I may or may not go silent for a good two weeks.  It really depends on the Internet connection, whether or not my kids will let me have a few minutes of alone time (on the toilet) with the i-Pad and if anything blog-worthy happens.

If it's like the last few times we've been to Sanibel, then I suspect we'll be harassing the TSA agents in no time flat.  If you don't think we have a good time go here and click on all the "here" links within that post.  You will soon realize how lucky you are not to be me while on vacation.

That and because I saved a robin's nest while trimming the shrubs, my back is still hurting like a mother and I'm on a number of high quality pain killers.  The upside is, I don't give a shit what happens,what we pack or if I wind up sitting in a jail cell for taunting the TSA.

I call it better living through Chemistry.  My husband calls it the quietest the house has been in months.

Whatever.

Oh the joys of travel, back pain, and three kids...

Here's the catch though, I'll be relying on you guys.  See, if I don't check-in on Facebook or make myself know in some fashion, I'd like bail money sent to my PayPal account by Tuesday.

Oh fuck it, who am I kidding?  If I'm in jail it may be the first time in ten years I get eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, I get to lay flat on my back without having sex and I generally can sit motionless for vast stretches of time excluding the cavity search which I may, just may, enjoy.

I take it all back.  A short stint in the slammer may be just what I need....


Note:  I do not have a PayPal account, I just made that up.  And yes, I'm totally drugged right now.  Can you tell?  


Like I've done on past trips, feel free to go wild in the comments or on Facebook: Four Sea Stars.  Let everyone know I have herpes and went to seek help or something like that.  I know you'll come up with something good, I have faith. 

And.....I'm back.

So yeah, we got back in last night and it was great to see the kids.  And to be brutally honest, it was even better to have some time away.  Yeah, that sounds bad but I'm standing by it.

For four whole days I didn't have to worry about who was eating what, if the socks matched, if an appointment was missed, what the communication notebook said or if the plan was being followed.

For a few blissful days I was more concerned with the tides, the winds, the shells and if I brought enough clothes to brave the beach after the cold front blew in.

I did.

Its amazing in hindsight to realize how bad off I was and how bad I was really feeling.  And when you come back, the things that were driving you nuts are no longer half as bad.  That instead of looking down, things are looking up.

When we came through the garage door we were immediately told, "You have been gone for approximately twenty minutes longer than I thought.  And Grandma made dinner.  And I don't like it.  And she burnt the brownies.  Can you make brownies and not burn them?"

"Yeah.  Umm no, I'm not going to make brownies right now.  Did you guys have fun?"

"Well yes, yes we did.  Did you know Grandma fed Gracie a Kit-Kat for dessert on Saturday?  She was running with it and choked.  Then she threw-up.  Then I saw her throw-up and then I threw-up.  Then Lizzy saw it and she threw-up.   And Lizzy was the only one who made it to the toilet."

"Grandma said you owe her big-time and it was a good thing you weren't here because we were having a puke-fest.  Now can you make me brownies?  I really want some not-burnt brownies."

And that's how I came back home, to three kids wrapped around my ankles, giving me hugs, kisses and transferring all their viral cold germs from one end of me to the other.

And its good to be home.

What could possibly go wrong?

I am going to show you two pictures and if you can't figure out where I am then really, there's no hope for you.  I think my husband realized how bad it was when I damn near threatened to swan dive out an upper window.  And then we all got sick.  

Sanibel.

Dude, I'm in Sanibel.

Somehow we managed to wrack up a hell of a lot frequent flyer miles and we've cashed them in.  This time I really am taking a break, with no kids.

Normally I would say nothing could go wrong but we all know my luck.  And we're flying through Atlanta so that pretty much seals the deal.

And if you know us in real life we've told the kids we're going to Texas.  My daughter would have my hide for breakfast if she found out where we really were.

See?  What could possible go wrong?

Like a horse, I'm spooked.

Remember when I schlepped my whole family down to Sanibel last month to appease my shelling habit?  I'd like to say we went down there because the kids like the beach and it's a great family getaway but the stone-cold truth is that I like to shell and damn-it I'm in charge of this family.  If they want to come on vacation, they can come down to Sanibel and shell with me.  Or they can stay home.  Their choice.

Funny how they all came along with me.

Who wants to see a picture of me?

If you really want to know what I look like and how dolled-up I get to go shelling, go visit Pam's blog, here.  Scroll down, you'll find me.

Pam has this great shelling blog called i Love Shelling and I have been stalking her since, easily, last November.  When we went down to Sanibel this last time I met up with her.  Really, I think she only relented to meeting me in the hopes of serving a restraining order but strange things happen and I ran smack into her on the beach before we were to meet.  Since the cops weren't around and her husband was off too far to hear her screams she had no choice but to say hi.

All kidding aside, I really like her.  I was a little nervous meeting her because I didn't want to be too stalkish but I think I fooled her.

The other lady in the picture I'm with is a wonderful friend I met back in June and I talked about her here.  Funny how you can make such a good friend while looking for a few shells.  Anyway, she came down and we went shelling and hung out.  Can I just tell you how much fun we had???

Anyway, I tell you all of this now because I'm stressed.  Stressed about Thanksgiving and how Alex is going to respond.  And too, I'm worried about how my husband's family is going to respond to seeing the inner workings of how we live.  Because lets face it, our house is set up to live with Autism.  We have index card schedules at the table, taped on the wall where we do homework, where we load and unload backpacks and at the back door where we come in and out of the house.  We have certain times we do things and specific routes we take. We have routines.  We have preferred foods.  We have foods that cause puking just at the mere mention.  We have meltdowns, tears and then we have hugs.  We have a way to do just about everything and that's just us.  And the way we lives brings us peace.  But it's not the way everyone else lives.

Add school and the home construction and I'm a little spooked.

So when I'm stressed I like to go back and think of times where we didn't have any cares other than what's for dinner, when the dolphins going to arrive and how drunk I was going to get.

So that's why I'm looking back a bit right now.

So I can calm down to move forward.    

This little son-of-a-bitch is the reason I have crabs
in my house.  He was Lizzy's "pet" the whole time
we were there.  Serves him right.  

Some of my shells I keep on my desk.
That one with dots in the center?
Shelling Gold.  

See, this is why I don't get drunk. Or maybe I should do it more often. Now I think I've said too much.

I had a complete meltdown about three weeks ago, right after Alex kicked me in the gut after a pretty rough day at school.  I came home and had a good cry in my closet.  Unlike my kid's meltdown there was no-one there to tell me things were going to be OK.  There was no-one there to make me brownies.  And most of all, there was no-one there to tell me they would kill that mean nasty teacher if she acts up again or, at minimum, threaten her with bodily harm or a good throat punch.

So like the big girl that I am, I made brownies for myself and had a glass of wine (or two or three) as soon as my husband walked in the door.

And since I'm a big girl and I was wearing my big girl panties, I figured the Gods of fortune were smiling down on me.  They were telling me something.

And because I know how to use the computer and a credit card and I could still figure out how to use the two simultaneously, I figured the Gods were really trying to tell me something.

So I got on the computer and went effing crazy.

I booked a trip down to Sanibel using all our frequent flyer miles.  Since I was still a little tipsy and still a little more than upset, I booked the condo I've had my eye on for over a year.  The Gods were really smiling down on me as I managed to score a decent price.  Gotta love Florida in the off season.

And its been one of the better decisions I've made all year.  I told the kids and my husband that we were going back to Sanibel and the smiles, oh the smiles.  Since then, Alex has been surviving school just to get to our trip date.

My husband told me it was the best way to celebrate our anniversary and I knew he understood my stress and how I've been hanging on by a thread.

By A Thread.

So that is how it came to be that we are going out of town in the upcoming week.  Unlike what I did last time, I will not be writing while we're down south.  I'm going to be spending the week with the kids trying to get them to de-stress, have fun and getting drunk.  I mean, me get drunk not the kids get drunk.  Oh hell, you know what I mean.

So when I go silent I will miss you all but I know you of all people will understand.  Understand what it means to get away.  To give the kids a chance to unwind.  To give them something to look forward to.  To give them hope.  And to give them a break.  For me as much as them.

If only I was sober at the time I would have known not to book the trip while Aunt Flow was in town.  Apparently the Gods have a sick sarcastic side as well.  

Feel free to yuck it up in the comments and have your own little party down there.


Note:  This could not be coming at a better time.  Alex punched his para at lunch yesterday and has been melting down both at home and at school more and more frequently.  He has taken to lying about doing things and is generally anxious and scared.  We are having another IEP meeting when we get back and I'm in the process of getting an advocate.  Sigh.   


And I have to find someone to watch our crabs.  See, that doesn't even sound right.  God, I hate those things.   

Summer Rewind

I have to tell you I've had mixed feelings about doing this.  See, this summer has been one of the best we've ever had.  But before we get too far, don't hate me.  I'm about to get mine next week when they start school. To give you some background, Alex came out of first grade with more tics and stims than you can possibly imagine.

And it broke my heart.

It killed me to see him so anxious, so worried and sick about, well about, just about everything.  Like a slow progression throughout the school year he added stressors and anxieties.  He added too, all the modalities he uses to deal with them.  All the flapping, articulations, facial tics and stims, all the chewing gum, tapping and lip rolling.  You name it, he did it.  Little by little they added themselves to his backpack and he carried them. As the year progressed it got heavier and heavier.

This past summer I made the bold move of canceling all our therapies and let the kids be kids.  As soon as school was out we put all his school things away and went on vacation.

And seeing Alex in the sand and in the ocean, well, it was like watching a years worth of angst and turmoil falling off of his shoulders.  Like taking off that backpack for the last time, all of his worries landed with a gentle thud onto the sand.

And he didn't look back.  Like magic he was free.

Free.

So you see, I'm not too excited to look forward.  I know within twenty seconds of hitting those school doors all the anxiety and stress is going to come flooding back.  And it's going to come back with such force and fury I'm going to be swept up and away wishing desperately I could turn back the clock.

While I may not be too happy to look forward, I'll gladly look back.  Here we go.

This past summer was hot.  Really hot.  We started off going down to Sanibel and taking two weeks and relaxing.  That meant building sand castles and swimming and looking out and seeing pretty things like this.  I've sugar coated it here but if you want to read more on our cluster called a vacation you can read about it here, here and here.  And here and here and here.  And here and here.  Yeah, it was that much fun.

Then we came home and it was hot.  Really hot.  Like this hot:

And it stayed that hot, all though June, most of July and now into August.  And to think I've not lost any water weight.  I don't get it.

So we lived most of the summer at the neighborhood pool.   Got up most days and were there by 10:00AM and hoped like hell none of them drowned.  Anyone ever asks how I stay so thin it's because I'm scared to death I'm going to loose one of them and find them floating face down in the deep end.

We went out one day for a change of scenery and found this beautiful specimen of a pool.  It was probably a good thing I took them there this past week and not early June.  I would not have heard the end of it.

This is not our neighborhood pool.  I wish.

 The kids did a lot of this:

This epitomizes my daughter.  I'm in trouble.  

Must fix goggles.
CAN NOT GET WATER IN EYES.

And a little of that:

You know how hard it is to get all three of them in a pic?!?

I have no idea what she's pointing at.  

But most of all my kids relaxed.  They had fun.  They taught me to have fun, calm down and to cuss a lot less.  I take that back.  I still cuss like a sailor.  I'm trying not to but its just not working.  Sigh.  

And my little boy went from being afraid of the water to doing this:

Now I will tell you, in order for me to take that picture it cost us:

• All of last summer, just to get one foot into the water.
• Three solid months of swimming lessons this year.
• One good puke per day, either in the pool or out, depending on the proximity to the edge. 
• About a year shaved off my life caused by putting sunscreen on everyone except myself.
• Approximately thirty four bags of Bugles.  What can I say, I'm a hooker for a bag of Bugles.  Don't get me started on the joy a bag of Carmel Bugles can bring me.   
• More meltdowns than I can shake a stick at.
• Two really good sunburns, cuz you know, I look good in red.
• And more foul language than I would care to admit.

But in the end it was worth it.  All totally worth it.  

And without this prompt I would have gone plunging ahead without taking a moment to stop and pause.  Thank you Shell.

 "Link up your Summer Fun for a chance to win prizes from Ubisoft." 

Crazy is as Crazy does.

I lied.  I'm going to dig deep and go back and talk about my vacation for this post.  There was one last thing that happened on Sanibel that I thought only Flannery and Grace would truly appreciate.  Then I'll be all done with this Sanibel stuff.

Promise.

Remember how I said I like to go shelling?  Well I do.  I go out on my own and stake out the best spots on the Island.  I bring my net, water shoes, sunscreen, power bar and some water.  I take my phone and at my husband's insistence, it's double or triple bagged in Ziplocs so it won't get wet or sandy.  I chuck it all into a small string backpack and I'm off.

Remember how I met the awesome sheller from one of my last posts?  Well, we did a lot of shelling together and she always had her husband with her.  I even mentioned that I thought he had her micro-chipped as he always seemed to know exactly where she was.  Anyway, she was telling me the reason he's with her is that she was out here one time and some guy came out buck naked and streaked from the shrubs to the ocean and back.

That freaked my shit since there weren't any houses around.

And between you, me and the walls, I was a little miffed that no one came streaking out from the undergrowth when I was around.  I mean really, he couldn't just give me a courtesy run?

So there I was, on my own, staking out shells.  I noticed this guy off in the distance and I didn't think anything of it.  I stuck my head down, found some more shells and looked up.

He was coming up to me and talking.

So much for a peaceful day at the beach.

He starts to say all this stuff and I'm stuck between this guy and the ocean.  I can't hear a damn thing he's saying with the surf smashing me around.  Against my better judgement I get out of the water and am like, "Hi!"  Trying to play off that I'm not all alone.

Did you ever meet someone and you just didn't feel right about them?  Like your gut was telling you something (like RUN) but you had to use your brain and figure it out?  The whole time you just didn't feel right.  This was one of those times.

"Hey how are ya?  Good, yeah?  Nice day to be out.  I'm in from Jupiter for the day and thought I'd see what I could find.  Everyone says Sanibel's great for shells but I'm not seeing much.  How bout you?  You finding anything?"

Ummm, yeah....Jupiter you say.  That sounds about right.  Christ.  No need to check, my freak magnet's on.

"Yeah, I'm good.  Just out for some shells.  Found a few things" I say keeping my head low, trying to ignore the shell bag in my hand.  Trying not to appear interested.  At all.

"Yeah, what'd ya find?"  He continues, looking right at my bag,  "Cool, is that a sand-dollar?  That sure is!  You're really lucky to have found one of those.  They're hard to find."

"Sure is." I say as I reluctantly acknowledge my shell bag and the sand-dollar within.  I start trying to head back to the beach with more people, starting to wonder how I can inconspicusly get my phone un-triple-Ziploced without being too obvious.  

"It's really nice to see people like yourself getting out and exploring things.  Did you know there is a lagoon right up there?" he says nudging his shoulder, pointing right up and over the bluff.  "Did you want to go and see it?  I hear it's pretty neat.  Come on, I'll take you, it's right up there."

This is where I lost my shit.  Answered the question if he thought I was alone.  This freak wanted to go explore a lagoon and slice me up six ways to China.  In that time I'd be lucky to unZiplock one bag from my phone.  One bag.  I'm screwed.  And it's so frigging hot, I'd decompose in like, twenty minutes.  I know this, I've watched all the CSI's.  Some bird's going to swoop down and eat my eyeball.   I should never have watched all those CSI's.  Damn you Anthony Zuiker.  Maybe I can start leaving PowerBar crumbs.  Seagulls don't eat PowerBar's do they?  Crap, they eat anything, who am I kidding?  I just fed them half my nail polish from my toes as a joke and they ate it.  Great, now PITA's going to be up my ass-hole if I live.  And I can't even dial my phone since its bubble wrapped six ways to China to protect it from the elements.  Accckkk.  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME???  Why am I fascinated with China, six different ways when I am about to die?  That's totally weirding me out.  That $300 piece of shit phone is going to be the only thing left of me, all wrapped up nice and neat.  Maybe the phones made in China?  Acccckkkk.  Thank you Ziploc and your I-can't-open-you-in-an-emergency-but-my-meat-won't-get-freezer-burn-but-it-won't-matter-when-I'm-dead-bags.  Maybe you can market that after I'm good and gone.  


I hate you I-phone.  I hate you Ziploc.


Crazy man from Jupiter is still NOT SHUTTING UP about the damn lagoon.  Now what??  I promised Alex I'd make home-made pizza for dinner.  Who's going to make my kid dinner if I don't get back?    


"I think I'm going to have to get going" I say.  "I bet it's nice but I have to be heading back."

This freak followed me all the way back to Blind Pass where some guy named Lou started talking to me and telling me how pretty I was.

See Spanx lady in the background???

I CAN NOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP.

I am not pretty.

See look.  Skinny, yes.  Pretty no.

Of course I've not shown you a picture of my face but rather my ass but hey, in my defense, my ass is prettier than my face.

And for the record, I felt like I was in some fucked up temporal vortex.  I had to actually look around and see if this new guy was really talking to me.

Yup.  Yup, he was.

Truth be told, I was never so happy to see Lou in my entire life.  He shook loose the psychopath from Jupiter so I went with it.  I let him go on with his crazy-ass self till I found my way back to the car.

The next day I went back.  This time with my husband in tow.  And guess who's naked hump I saw running out to the ocean?

Yup you guessed it.  I found my streaker.

Vacation Complete.


Note: I have no idea why I decided to share this story.  It clearly shows how much weirdness I attract and all the thing I do wrong to magnify my situation.  But in my defense, I didn't want to bring my husband with me.  Sometimes you just want to get out and be alone.  Clearly that did not happen.  I'm thinking of going back in November or December with my sister for a long weekend.  Anyone wanna come?  It would be like BlogHer, but not.  


Oh, and that sand-dollar Jupiter was checking out?  When we got home Gracie stepped on it and smashed it to a million little bits.  

More than shells.

So I have one last thing that happened on vacation...

Earlier in the week I had gone out to a beach south of Blind Pass and I met another woman.  OK people, I'll tell you right now: it does not go that direction.  I'm good but not that good.

Anyway, we spied each other but kept our distance.  We respectfully kept our shell nets in own little area in front of us and played nice like two grown-ups are taught to do.  See, all that sitting around in Social Skills has paid off.

But in my mind it went a little something like this:  Shit. Shit. Shit.  She found the only good shell pile on this island and now I have to frigging play nice and share.  Damn it.  It wouldn't be so bad if this God damned island didn't decide to not give up any shells.  Maybe I'll bide my time here tonight and come back tomorrow.  Yeah, that's it, that's what I'll do.  It's a negative tide for God's sake.  You can bet I'll be back tomorrow.  Except earlier, way earlier.  I'm going to get here first.  

And that's exactly what I did.

See, I planed our vacation around my shelling habit.  Sure, the kids like the beach.  But I like to look for shells and since I'm in charge of this whole operation we went to the beach that has shells.  And wouldn't it figure, the island wasn't producing any shells.

Zilch. Bubkis. Nada. Nothing.  No good shells.

That and the negative tide bit.  A negative tides when the tide goes back into the ocean further than normal so you can get/see more shells.  Yes, I planned our vacation around that too.  So when I found this shell pile with this lady attached to it, there was no way I was letting go.  

But something happened.  She said, "Hi" and we started talking.  And talking.  And bit by bit I started to like her.  We got along.  She was the nicest person ever.


Ever people, ever.

Turns out she's a kindergarten teacher and when she asked why I was out here shelling without my family, or anyone at all, I responded that I needed some alone time because of all the stress and everything else that goes along with having a kid on the Spectrum.  All the OT/PT, Speech, Child Psych and lets not forget all the extra fun that comes along with school.


She got it.  She understood.  And she was kind.

And that's why when she pulled an alphabet cone, horse conch or anything else I wanted out of the ocean I was not in the least bit jealous.  I was happy.

On this trip I came away with a lot more than shells.

And for that I am grateful.

Vacation in pictures...

I wrote this down in Sanibel and it had to wait till we got back.  It's still pretty valid so I thought I'd post it.  Let me rephrase that.  Since we've been home, I've been buried in laundry.  The kids have made a nightly habit of peeing in the bed, on the sheets, on the carpet, stuffed animals, toys and basically anything within striking range from their bed to the toilet.  And amazingly when they sit to pee they still have more in them.  I don't get it.  Anyway since I'm now looking at the front end of my washer and dryer this will have to do.

Here ya go.

I've established the fact we're on vacation.  I've also established the fact I have more than enough computers, wires, phones, cables and monitors to become a wholesale distributor or, at minimum, a small Radio Shack. But here's the one fact that's confounding me and quite frankly pissing me off.  I can hardly use a single one of the computers without getting logged out, timed out or pages simply not loading. 

See, nothing is compatible.  The I-pads won't work with my phone.  The mini won't work with an I-pad but will work with the phone.  Both phones will work with each other and I-touches but won't work with the mini.  The I-pads will work but not with each other and God forbid I hook a phone up to one of them to download pictures.  Then all of them get really bent out of shape and freeze up.  It's like they've ganged up, started their periods and won't ask for any Midol.  They're worse than my kids without sugar and don't get me started on what little ass holes they can be without their sugar.

The end result is that I can't work with any of them.  I can read all your blogs but none of my great gifts of technology will let me read or comment.  And I'm frustrated.  See, I want to talk to you guys and my computers are on their periods and pissed off and won't let me.  I'm more that a little mad, and drunk, and the combination has me banging on keyboards.  It's really hard to focus.  

So I'm sorry I can't post things to you guys.  I really want to. 


Anyway, this is want I originally had posted before I got way too frustrated and drunk:

First we had to stop at WalMart.  Enough said.  Then we spent an assload of money.  Apparently it costs upwards of $500 to feed a family of six for two weeks.  Here's the receipt to prove it.
 

I'll be damned if I make one of these:

I'm not getting anywhere near cleaning a single one of these:

And I have a moral obligation to drink all of these:

Oh yeah, the fridge has more!!!

Oh, after I sobered up a bit I figured things out.  Let me rephrase that.  I think I bitched so much my husband fixed things and now I'm happy.  

I'm going out here to take a self induced time-out which includes getting drunker and finding some more shells.   

And that's exactly what I did.  Alone and without kids, I went out for some peace and quiet.  I think I may have spilled the majority of my drink when I bent over to get a shell but I was alone.  There was no way in hell I was going back in to get a refill.  

"I don't wanna be home."

Those were the first words my daughter uttered when we came back.  Promptly followed by bursting into tears, sobbing and running to her bedroom.  And I was right behind her. 

Why does coming back have to be so depressing?

So we made it back from vacation all in one piece.  I had to stop posting for a bit as the connection was so bad that it just wasn't worth trying and getting all worked up, angry and bent out of shape.  It was a vacation after all.  

That and to be brutally honest, I've not had the time to write and when I have, I've had absolutely nothing to say.  Nothing.  I mean, crazy stuff has been going on, I've just not felt like writing about it.  Guess coming back home has been a bit hard on all of us.  

In between coming home, unpacking, laundry, getting food, birthdays, doctors and dentist appointments for the kids, contractors and painters, I've been left with zero time.  During the school year, I had a two hour window where I could get things done with the baby hanging around at my feet.  Not that I really got anything done but it was my time.  My time to do, or not do, with as I pleased.  It's becoming painfully obvious that with all three of them home for the summer, my own time has shrunk down to nothing.  

Anyway, here is the fun we had on Father's day.

And our feet...

Don't look too closely at my toes.  That's what happens when you have a five year old paint your toes, feet, legs, upper arms...notice she has her shoes on?  That and you can see all my white spots.  Sexy.  Dead sexy. 

Note: In relation to my last post, my mom sooo does not read this blog.  If she did, I'd have this thing shut down faster than a cover-up for an for an OSHA violation.  I mentioned her tree hugging, granola, I've been in the wild with no razor for years look as it was the third time I had to correct that particular problem.  Maybe that's why I've not had much to say....  

Try getting that out of your mind.

A few things have happened between now and the last time I posted.  First things first.  It was my mom's birthday.  Did I mention she's here with us?  No??  Well she is.  That, in and of itself, has been a blessing and a bane.

Blind Pass, Sanibel

Funny thing is, her birthday comes around in June and I forget it every year.  Without fail.  And every year she gets pissed.  Without fail.

This year I actually remembered the day before while we were out getting groceries.  Let me rephrase that.  My husband got a FaceBook reminder that it was her birthday.

Shit.

There I was, scrounging for a birthday present at the general store.  They had nothing unless I was going to give her eggs, milk, sunscreen or bug spray.  I settled for a pre-made cake and called it a day.

I took the kids out and drew pretty things in the sand for her and she was happy.

Then I almost forgot Father's day.  Let me rephrase that.  I did forget Father's day.  Totally.  I remembered it, only after my husband dropped me off at Blind Pass to go shelling at 6:00AM.  About an hour later, I was knee deep in water going for a shell and the thought brought me from a full stoop to upright in less than one tenth of a second.

I called him and he said not to worry.  I married a good man.

Alphabet cone

Lace Murex

We took a boat out to explore and I tell you that little bit of information to tell you this.  I have never been so petrified in my entire life.  I don't know what it was, but having all three kids on a boat, in open water, scared the hell out of me.  The only way to describe it was I had this horrible feeling that if anything went wrong I couldn't save all my kids and I'd be forced to choose.  And I could not come up with an answer.

I was never so happy to have my feet touch solid ground, grab all my kids and get off that damn boat.

Anyway, back to the blessing and bane bit about my mom.  There we were out on the beach talking to I don't remember and she has Gracie at her legs.  You know where I'm going with this, right? Right?? 

I start to play with Gracie and since she's at my mom's nether regions.  I can help but see.  It's not like I was going in for a quick peek or anything, Gracie's about mid-rift height.  There, right in front of my face, and behind my little girl: Full Bush.

Full Bush.  People, my mom had not shaved her bits in years.

Years, people, years.  Uggghhhh.....

Who walks out of the house like that?!?  Before you answer that, I already know.  MY MOM.

I was mortified.  There she was, yammering on, Gracie's making a fuss and people are looking right at it.  She was clueless and just yammering away.

We're talking full bush.  Monkey's at the zoo have less hair.  Pube's Gone Wild.  Granola.  Tree hugging, save the planet a razor style.  

And that's the bad visual I'm leaving you with today.

Now try getting that seared out of the back of your retina's.

Vacation one, Lizbeth zero.

This is the fish tank where I got yelled at for pulling a sea star out of the holding tank for less than 0.0034 seconds and where everyone within earshot was told by Alex, "This was not my activity of choice.  I have no interest in sea life and I would be much happier with my I-touch but ohhhh nooooo, mom says it has to say at the condo."

This is the boat we went on where I lost Lizzy, Gracie threw her bottle out and screamed her head off for the duration and where Alex got a brain contusion from hitting the boat decking as the captain ran into the pier.  Read all about it here.

OK, there would be a picture of a boat here but this piece of shit computer I'm working on is a little mother and won't let me add a picture without first rotating it and then adding it sideways.

That and it's so God dammed slow I can't even get to a single one of your blogs without crashing the whole system.  I think I take out power to half this island when I try to comment.

And I have an I pad but that's not really an accurate statement.  I can see our I pad but can't use it.  I may be able to wrestle it out of my son's hands for twenty seconds only to have to barter later usage. 

Scratch that.  I figured things out.

Anyway, more pictures...

This is one of the sand castles Alex made and has announced to the free world and anyone who has the misfortune to walk by that, "This is my sandcastle and I would appreciate it if you would walk around.  Thank you.  Oh yeah, I'm not enjoying this activity at all.  I would like to be playing with my I-touch but my mom says it has to stay in the condo."

Since we're outside he's saying all of this in his Loudest Outside Voice Ever.  Technically I can not correct him since we are indeed outside. He has reminded me of this fact.

Repeatedly.

And this is a picture of our walk to the beach.  All you have to do is add three children, all screaming different things, getting chased by wasps and all sorts of big flying bugs, pushing and shoving to get to the water then the picture is complete.  Thank you condo association for putting flowering plants along every walkway.  By the end of the boardwalk I've been given all the beach toys, towels, sunscreen and drinks so I look like a camel on a desert trek.  

I've taken to stashing a bottle of alcohol in a beach towel.  It is my goal to have one bottle finished per day by the end of our trip.

Yes, you may judge me.  

And that is all I have for today.

Note: I have been desperately trying to get to your blogs but this system here is nothing but smoke and  mirrors with the ability to crash at a moments notice.   I may resort to posting some old crappy posts I've had hibernating till we get back as I've spent more time trying to keep this system running and my kids from getting electrocuted from the mess of wires under the writing desk....  

Vacations go better with alcohol.

It has come to my attention that I'm not very good at this vacation thing.  Thank you dear husband.  I love you, I really do.  Apparently I like to get up and do things and the rest of my family does not.  I've been told to, "relax, calm down, enjoy things and take it easy." Usually these comments are being said to me while an alcoholic beverage is being slid across the table.  If the drink does not get close enough to me it gets shoved over with a fork, plate or anything to move it within my reach.

And all of these comments have generally pissed me off.

I can't seem to sit down and do nothing.  The rest of my clan is perfectly happy slumming it out on the beach.  Don't get me wrong, I can do that.  I'm just having a hard time doing it all day long.  I'm pasty white with no skin pigment so I last about twenty minutes before I go from white to pink to magenta.

I went out for a run in the afternoon and damn near died.  I was hallucinating and thinking about a Star Trek episode where Jean Luke and Wesley were stuck on some desert planet and were dying themselves.  They were chewing on rocks to keep spit in their mouths.  All I kept thinking of was, "where'd they get those rocks?  That planet's a desert."  And then "where can I get me some of those rocks round here?  I think I'm dying myself.  I don't have any spit in my mouth.  Oh my God, I think my blood's congealing."  And I actually started to look down at the ground for rocks to stick in my mouth.  How fucked up is that?!?


While out on my run, I think I told a group of Japanese tourists to go off the island instead of going to Captivia which was their original destination.  In fairness, I don't know why they stopped and asked me.  Anyone who lives around here knows only stupid tourists are out in the heat of the day going for a run.  Even other tourists were looking at me like I was nuts.  In fairness, they're all right.

Anyway, I'm trying to give this a good shake.  I'm trying to relax.  I've started to drink heavily and it does seem to take the edge off.

So what if the kids get a little too loud at the beach?  We're never going to see these people again.

So what if Gracie pees on the carpet?  Twice.  It's not our house, my carpet.  That's what a security deposit's for, right?  Right??

So what if this creature crawled out from under the sofa?  It's not my bug.  Again, not my house.

Had I not had a glass or two or six under my belt, that would have had me pissing my own pants. Not to mention all the crap that would have been spewing out of my mouth.  But having had enough alcohol in my system to deaden all my nerve endings I just got a good giggle out of it.  

I actually put it in a glass on the ground and let the kids name it and keep it as a pet for a while.

See what happens when I relax?

I let my kids play with roaches.  

I think my husband is seriously concerned with this turn of events but hey, I'm starting to relax.

The eagle has landed.

So we made it to Sanibel. That means my house is up for the taking, partying and looting. Be advised that with the remodel we now have an upgraded security system equipped with indoor lasers and twenty four hour video monitoring I can see from here. If that doesn't deter you then have at it.

Now that I've got that out of the way, I'm happy to say we made it all in one piece. En route I may, or may not, have said:

• "I don't care if you don't have to pee, sit on that God dammed toilet and eek something out."
• "Please don't let me kill this TSA agent, please don't let me kill this TSA agent, please don't let me kill this TSA agent."
• "Really, it's soy milk. That's butt paste. And that's my birth control." There was no way I was risking that getting lost in the luggage to which Alex exclaims, "Mom brought her no more baby pills with her. Looks like we won't get a baby on this trip."
• "Sit down, shut up, and act like you are having fun."

With all the technology we brought down with us I still don't have the ability to download pictures. That is confounding me as our condo looks like a Radio Shack right now. I don't understand this at all.

Alex has decided to boycott the beach as I've not allowed the I-touch near the ocean, Lizzy went head first into the water and came out almost puking exclaiming, "it tastes awful!" and I looked over to see Gracie eating some cereal she dropped in the sand.  Right now all the kids are hypoglycemic and acting like ass holes.

Not to be outwitted by our little ass holes, we took them on a boat cruise of the nature preserve only to have Gracie throw her bottle overboard.  Since it's a nature preserve we had to go back and retrieve it.  By that I mean the boat was turned around four different times to fish the damned thing out of the water since we couldn't get it on the first three passes.  Alex banged his head on the guardrail when the captain over shot the pilings and ran into the pier and Lizzy, well Lizzy, I lost track of her five minutes into the tour.  After Gracie threw her bottle overboard she started a nonstop screaming marathon which scared off all the manatee and dolphin thus pissing off everyone on the boat that wasn't all ready pissed at us.  We almost got thrown out into the estuary.

Good times.

The forgotten week.

In my haste to get Alex out of school and down to Sanibel to start our vacation,  I completely forgot this teensy weensy little detail.  We have one full week before we go on vacation.  I was so busy trying to get him through the last few weeks, and then days, of school that I completely forgot we had a gap week.

One full week of nothing to do.

Shit.

Now I'm sitting here with three kids looking at me like I'm the food that just got tossed into the lion's den.  And these particular lions, well they're pissed off and really hungry.  Since I've not trained my lion cubs that it's not OK to gnaw on mommy's leg for sport, I'm afraid for my own survival.

On top of it, it got frigging hot here and I'm dying a thousand deaths trying to get used to the heat.  Add the humidity and my normally straight as a board hair has gone pa-ching and I don't know what to do with it.  My sweat glands are working overtime and I think I've died and the devil is having some fun with me.  My insides are boiling and I may spontaneously combust.

Add caption

My poor kids haven't really known "hot" and lets just say they're pissed that their summer's not chalked full of cool waters and summer time jackets.  See, we used to live in North Dakota.  My Cherubs don't know hot.  I mean, look at that picture down there.  I took that in late June, 2008.  Look at what she's wearing...mittens.  People, she's wearing MITTENS.  IN JUNE.  Along with fleece pants, a jacket, a shirt and some weird almost but not really a skirt thing.  IN LATE JUNE.  I'm surprised there is not ice on that puddle.

To top it all off, they want to go to the pool but I can't take all three of them and be guaranteed I'd come back with all of them still breathing.  We've spent an ass load of money on swim lessons but they're still not swim worthy due to our complete and utter lack of gross motor skills.  I don't trust them alone in the water and with an 18 month old I can't watch all three.  It's unsafe and a recipe for disaster.

So I've lowered my standards and turned on the TV.  We're going to be watching plenty of How its Made, those horrible little douche bags Phinneas and Ferb and that rodent Max and his sister Ruby. Where the hell is their mother???

Anyway, all I have to do is get through till Saturday and then we're off.  To the airport. On a plane.  To land in another airport.  To board another plane.  To land in Florida.

What could possible go wrong with that???


Don't worry, I'll be telling you all about it when we land.  You know, if I'm not detained in airport security when Alex has decided to have an in depth discussion with the TSA official about the "why's" and "how to's" concerning bombs and bringing them in to the airport and through security.... 

shells, shells, shells...

We recently came back from a trip to Sanibel Island and I was hooked.  There were shells everywhere!  I found a tide chart and hit the beach.  There were several really good minus tides, where the tide goes out further than normal, usually during a full or new moon.  And a storm blew through dumping even more shells on the beach.  I got really lucky.

I put most of the shells in hurricane vases which now sit on the mantle and I have a few of my prized shells in shadow boxes where the kids can't reach them.  When it started to get cold we pulled the hurricanes down, dumped all the shells on the floor and played Sanibel.

Anyway, here are a few of my favorites. 

Florida fighting conch, tulip, olive, I think.

More favorites...wentletraps!

And one more picture.

When we came home I bought these lamps on-line, www.jcpenney.com and filled them with some of the shells we collected.  Each of the kids have one and we have them at our bedside as well.  Pretty cool, eh???

One of our new lamps.

Note: I've added more shell pictures from our more recent visits to Sanibel as it seems Trip Advisor is sending a few people this way.  If you want to read about our adventures while in Sanibel then type in "Sanibel" over in "SEARCH ME" area on the right hand side of the blog over there.  

Have fun looking around and feel free to leave a comment!  

This is what I was referring to on TA.
A sand-dollar on a candle base.

These are from our most recent trip in October 2011.
That is what you think it is, in the center.  

Gracie trying to grab a few!

I love the murex!

  

Alphabet cone although I can't find a single letter on this one.

Close up of the lamp base.

Beach view June 2011.

Random shells.  October 2011.

October 2011.

 

Crafting shells for the kids.

Display in progress.

Display in progress.



Kings Crowns.



Kings Crowns.



This is what the Kings Crwons started as.  We found them
at low tide in the mud flats at Blind Pass. 
Not for the faint of heart!