The following conversation took place tonight in the car while we were heading to the movies.
Me: Are you sure you don’t want to go see “The Hangover”? It’s supposed to be fairly funny.
Sarge: Yeah, it does look pretty funny but I figured you wouldn’t want to see it. It does have that guy from “Blades of Glory” in it though.
(Let us not forget how much Sarge liked that movie as evidenced here and here).
Me: Oh, you mean Jon Heder?
(Just a side note here–It’s a known fact in my family that I’m a wee bit of a nerd when it comes to knowing the names and roles of many movies stars. I think it’s also a well-established fact that I need to broaden my horizons.)
Sarge: No, the other guy. You know the one who was evil and had the sister.
Me: You mean Amy Poehler’s husband?
Sarge: Yeah, Will Arnett (in the first picture).
Me: I didn’t know he was in “The Hangover.” Are you sure you’re not thinking of Bradley Cooper (in this second picture here)?
Sarge: Yeah, that’s what I meant. They look just alike. They’re almost twins.
Me: What? What are you talking about? They look nothing alike.
Sarge: Shut up.
Me: Seriously, honey, one has blonde hair and one has brown . . .
Sarge: Shut up!
Me: Come on, babe . . .
Sarge: SHUT UP!
Me: Why don’t you like me?
Sarge: Aww, honey, you know I like you. I’m just not “in like” with you.
And this small snippet encapsulates my lovely date night with the love of my life, my husband of 12 years.
A special thanks to my parents, trusty Nana and Pops, for enabling this lovely moment to occur by agreeing to allow my darling little hellions to converge upon them for the evening and disrupt their quiet time.
One of my and Sarge’s favorite movies is The Princess Bride.
The funny thing is we’re not the only ones who are enamored of this movie. In fact, it is considered somewhat of a cult classic.
Why, even when I googled it, a whole page opened up for the memorable quotes.
One of my personal favorites is when Vizzini has just cut the rope that The Dread Pirate Roberts is using to climb up the Cliffs of Insanity. All through out the beginning of the movie, Vizzini has been using the word “inconceivable” over and over.
Vizzini to another character, Inigo: “HE DIDN’T FALL? INCONCEIVABLE!”
Inigo Montoya: “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”
Tonight, as we were sauntering around Barnes and Nobles, my son asks me about the iconic line from Inigo Montoya. Which is just so sad that I even knew it immediately. We’re talking right off the top of my head.
You know the one I’m talking about. . .
“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
After I told him the full quote, he began to repeat it over and over and over. Sort of like the use of “inconceivable” earlier.
Except he kept mispronouncing Inigo’s name.
My personal favorite was when he said, while playing with a younger boy at the Thomas the Tank Engine table in the kids’ section of Barnes and Noble, “My name is Mongo Toyota. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
It was such a proud moment for me as a parent.
Yes, I am sarcastic. Only a little bit though.
This is a shot of my hot tub outside on my deck. Those red numbers actually read 100 degrees.
Yes, my crazy children are in the hot tub.
In the middle of summer.
And my children are not alone residing in the certifiably insane category.
My sister’s girls got in on the extreme action. They are spending the night tonight.
And they so sweetly informed Sarge and me at the conclusion of Wipeout that they had brought their swimsuits.
Just in case we would decide to let them get in the hot tub.
So there it is. The disturbing truth.
This was a premeditated choice.
To get in a hot tub that is 100 degrees when our daily average temperature here has been hovering above the 90 degree mark.
I guess the thunderstorms we had today brought the temp down a little so maybe it’s not quite as crazy as it looks.
Nah, it’s just plain nutty if you ask me.
And to think, in 11 days, we’ll all be at the beach together.
Who knows what kind of pandemonium will occur there?
We’ve had yet another great today with our friends.
Unfortunately for Sarge, he had to work this evening. He was an Incident Commander for a major location of fireworks in our area.
So while I was lazily sitting by the pool watching the sun roast my swimming children (as evidenced by the wonderful sunburn they are sporting on their shoulders), Sarge was sitting around in the heat in his bulletproof vest and polyester uniform, totally not enjoying this holiday.
But at least he is not having to deal with our children who are refusing to go to sleep because of the incessant fireworks being set off by our neighbors.
I lost count of how many times they have told me they can’t go to sleep because of all the noise. Now, they are sleeping in my room, or at least attempting to, with my white noise fan hopefully keeping the worse of the noise at bay.
Thank goodness this is the worst of my worries on this momentous holiday.
One of my best friend’s from college came in town last night and we have had a great day today.
Our kids have had a blast playing video games together all morning.
Then, for our afternoon activity, we went on a day hike, even though it was insanely hot outside.
I hadn’t seen her or her kids in about two years and I was amazed at how grown up her young’uns were.
After doing some locally touristy stuff when we finished our day hike (which meant I was not working around the house or taking the kids to swim team practice or running around to other obligatory events that are not necessarily enjoyable for me), I finally feel like it is my summer vacation, too.
Here’s hoping that my kids start to get along a little better though. Then, my relaxation will be complete.
Because, as we all know, looks can be deceiving. They do look like sweet little angels.
The key word here is “look,” not “are.”
We are in a severely taxing period of transition here in our house.
Sarge switched shifts and precincts this week. He is now working from 10:30 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. Also known as the graveyard shift. Here, we just call it morning watch.
At least, his precinct is closer to home and his commute is barely worthy of being called a commute.
I do feel very sorry for Sarge as he tries to adjust to this new routine.
I am also feeling sorry for myself because I have been busting my proverbial buns trying to get things accomplished around here. And the fact that my husband is sleeping all day hasn’t been the best in terms of helping me with my efforts.
Because, let us not forget that it is all about me. Right? RIGHT?
Okay, I know it’s not all about me but I can have my dreams, can’t I?
Anyway, I also have my best friend from college coming tomorrow with her two kids so I still have loads more cleaning and whatnot to do.
If I have a chance in the next few days, I will try to post pictures of the two rooms I have transformed in the last few weeks. Unfortunately, I have no “before” pictures so hopefully you can use your imagination. The good thing is that I have officially “finished” four rooms in my new (only bought it last July. Yes, it’s sad, I know.) house.
Here’s to the other rooms coming quickly along.
And here’s to Sarge adjusting to his new schedule.
Me too.
I have discovered that I do not like sleeping alone.
One of my good friends turns 40 today. She’s the model. She definitely doesn’t look forty.
For her birthday celebration, we had a Girls Night Out. We went to a swanky bar for drinks and then went to a five star restaurant for dinner. It was a very fun, classy, goofy, and unforgettable night.
There were only a couple of drawbacks. The first was that I offered to be the designated driver.
I mean, we were all moms with young kids and we needed to be responsible.
Can I just tell you how difficult it is to navigate an S.U.V. that isn’t yours but that fits eight people and then has seven non-drivers telling you where to go while driving down streets that you haven’t travelled since your younger days (as in 21 years of age when you were an experienced bar hopper)?
I survived the night with a smile on my face. In fact, my face hurt when I got home from laughing so much.
But the getting home at 3 a.m. was another story. It was quite a wake-up call for me in that I really, truly can’t handle staying out late and partying half the night. It took me two days to be fully recovered.
Of course, painting my dining room (primer and two coats of color) and going to a swim meet the night after my late night certainly didn’t help my recovery efforts.
And I won’t even get started about how wearing a strapless dress was not the best idea.
Because you never know when someone might sneak up on you with a camera as you are trying to set your dress to rights.
Our summer has been filled with lots of time at the pool.
Unfortunately, it hasn’t all been for pleasure swimming.
We have had several swim meets in the extremely hot weather that has gripped our area.
I have to tell you though that this has not been my favorite part of the summer.
I swam on a summer league swim team from the age of 6 until 18. I then coached summer swim teams for about seven more years beyond that.
The standing on a concrete pool deck that has absorbed the heat of hours of direct sunlight is a memory/activity that I do not wish to engage in. And that isn’t even taking into account the fact that the sun is still beating down mercilessly on your head/body for the first three hours of the meet.
Add in that I am usually having to work as a volunteer at the meet and it just becomes too much to take pictures, to cheer my kids on, to be a good mother and so on and so forth.
Oh wait, who am I kidding?
I didn’t even take these pictures. This is what I was doing for the majority of this meet.
My best friend took all of these pictures as my kids’ swim team was swimming her kids’ swim team.
Seriously people, don’t think me a horrible mother since I appear to not be watching the meet.
I have to take advantage of any few free minutes I can find. My kids were occupied, playing with their friends while waiting to swim, so I chose to engage in one of my favorite things ever. Reading.
And, since I was almost finished with this book, I had to take it with me to the meet. I had to find out what happened at the end. I couldn’t leave myself hanging for the four plus hours that encompasses a swim meet.
Just so you know, I have worked at every meet but this one.
Thank goodness my friend was there to snap these shots of my kids and me. Since I am the one usually holding the camera, it’s nice to have some assistance.
So I send a special thanks to her for helping me in my desperate attempts to chronicle all the random moments of our lives.
Like the fact that my son only swims on a swim team so he can go to the concession stand to buy and then consume candy that turns his mouth and teeth a very unhealthy and unnatural shade of purply blue.
makes for a very dull Father’s Day.
Sarge had weekend duty on Saturday and Sunday. Which meant that he had to work on his Father’s day.
For my boy though, this was the greatest weekend of his life. You see, it was his best friend’s birthday on Friday.
On the actual birthday, the moms took these two to the mall to the LEGO store and then let them do the jumpy-thing.
Afterwards, we went back to his friend’s house, had both families together for a lovely dinner, and then celebrated with a little cake wearing.
Oh, and some cake eating too.
The fun continued on Saturday when his friend had his party with fellow soon-t0-be first graders and a huge water slide.
And, yes, that skinny little thing is my boy airborne on the slide.
As I always say, he’s just a hospital visit waiting to happen.
After more cake-wearing during the party, my boy then spent the night with his friend after the party. Then, these two played all day today at his friend’s house with all of his friend’s brand-new LEGO SETS.
All of this means that Sarge has not even seen his son at all today. On Father’s Day.
Because Sarge had to work.
And because his son was so selfless in helping out a friend in need.
I actually feel really bad for my poor husband.
I know, I know. It’s a miracle that I am not complaining about his schedule as well as showing the beleaguered man some sympathy.
Don’t worry though. It won’t last. As soon as he walks in the door in a few minutes and starts to peel off his polyester uniform and bullet proof vest, all kind thoughts will evaporate.
Unlike the sweat that collects in the above mentioned uniform and vest caused our 99 degree heat wave.
This week, we have had two swim meets. One on Tuesday and one on Thursday. The meet Tuesday didn’t get over until after 11 p.m. I left with my boy early on Thursday and my girl didn’t get home from that meet until 10:30 p.m.
Add in that my kids have had vacation bible school in the mornings of this week and I have two pretty exhausted children on my hands.
And I won’t even go into detail about how I’m feeling after all this (especially since I have had to volunteer as a parent worker at each of these meets). Just know the temps have been close to 95 and there are biting bugs galore down here in the South.
Anyway, last night, my boy and I came home before the meet was over to put him to bed at a semi-decent hour (10 p.m.). As soon as I walked in the door, I slapped him into my bed (at his request) and I immediately got my bug-spray- and sun-screened-covered self into the shower.
My instructions from my boy was to come lay down with him in the bed as soon as I finished my shower. And that is what I did.
But as soon as I laid down, he said this statement to me.
“You’re weirder than I think I am.”
And as I looked at him laying there with the smiley face on his stomach that he drew himself, I thought to myself that I have never heard a more true statement.
