Things I’ve Learned This Week

** I need a vacation from my vacation.

** My son’s hand is attached to his penis no less than 15 hours a day.

** Tiger Woods is an ass wipe.  (Ok, so I already knew this, but his creepy new Nike ad proved this yet again.)

** A trip to the car wash is immediately followed by multiple days of rain.

** My head will no doubt spontaneously combust during the hours of 5-8 p.m. at night.

** Mario Lopez has his own talk show?  WTF?!

** A guardian angel is looking out for my family.  (See The Glass Explosion post.)

** Something very very evil is out to get my family.  (See The Glass Explosion post.)

** Tupac and Elvis may be hiding under my daughter’s bed with all the crap she’s shoved underneath there.

** I see much better in hindsight.

** Homework time is to me what daylight is to a vampire.

** Margarita withdrawal really really sucks.

** Mud is not my friend.

** I can successfully take a quick shower when my kids have a playdate over here without someone walking in and seeing my girly goods (although I have a feeling this was a one time deal).

** There ain’t enough caffeine in all the damn world to fuel this mother ship.

** Nobody around here is sweetie enough to wipe the seatie after they sprinkle when they tinkle.

** There are way too many shameless people in this freaking world.

** I could totally start a wig company with all the loose hair that falls out of my head every day.

** I have a teensy weensy crush on Rihanna.  Yes, yes I do.

** My kids are either trying to give me a heart attack or make me piss my pants.  (The sneaking up on me thing has REALLY got to stop.)

** Despite what I might think, God does not give me more than I can handle.

A Little Slice of Heaven

Yesterday the hubby and the kids spent the afternoon with the Twins and the Pirates at a spring training game:

I, on the other hand, spent the afternoon lounging in the sun with my good friend, Jose:

It was a little slice of heaven, and I gobbled it right up.

The Hunt for Fun

So when you drive over 1300 miles to have some fun in the warm sun, you don’t really expect to end up doing this:

You might notice a couple of things wrong with this picture.  A.) I’m wearing jeans during the day, which is just all kinds of wrong, yo.  It’s F-L-O-R-I-D-A for crap’s sakes!!!!  It should be illegal to be wearing jeans during the day down here.  It IS the freaking “sunshine state” after all.  B.) We are driving around in the car after having driven around in the car for TWENTY-TWO FLIPPING HOURS!!!  My ass should’ve been protesting that idea up and down and all around.

Perhaps an explanation is needed for the odd photo above.  Waking up to a whopping 68 degree high with mostly cloudy skies while you’re on vacation poses a bit of a problem when you’ve got two very active six year olds to entertain.  So we once again piled into the family fun mobile and headed out in search of something to do.  Our search brought us to none other than the giant red bullseye:

Now the males of the bunch only lasted about ten minutes wondering the infinite number of aisles in this particular Super Target, while my daughter and I could’ve played around in the accessories department for hours.  All the bitching and moaning from the boys, however, won out, and we set out once again on the hunt for more entertainment.

Our next stop was on Captiva Island, where my daughter wanted to look for shells.  And holy shell explosion, did she ever hit the mother load!  We had no other choice but to wear our shoes because shells literally covered every single inch of sand.

We grabbed what we could without being blown away by the chilly winds, but overall, I’d say she did quite well in adding to her already massive collection, don’t ya think?

Maybe the smell of all these stinky-ass shells will help to cover up the inevitable stank of puke that will fill our car on the return trip home to Chicago at the end of the week. Here’s hopin’ anyway….

After a long day of trying to make up for a lost day of swimming in the surf, we decided to find a place to eat for dinner, as did the rest of the 50,000 other spring breakers on the island with us.  Every friggin’ restaurant had over an hour wait for a table, which just doesn’t work when you’ve got two tired and hungry short people with you.  We finally ended up at a teensy tiny Mexican restaurant, where my daughter had the right idea:

What better way to celebrate the end of a long day than bellying up to the old bar?

Things I’ve Learned This Week

** I can light a grill without burning off my eyebrows.

** Chocolate carmel pecan Easter eggs are not safe in this house, even if they’re the size of Texas.

** The dog likes to drink beer.

** Fruit Roll-Ups are to teeth what water is to the Wicked Witch of the West.

** OPI’s “Privacy Please” is a super cool, very natural-looking nail polish color.

** I need a vacation.

** My children should win a medal for their nighttime tip-toeing abilities.

** We should never watch porn before 10 p.m.

** I can sleep with my eyes open.

** The theme for Thursdays is apparently “Drive Like A Jackass Day.”

** I could be lying on the family room floor bleeding to death & no one in my family would notice.

** Little shit-covered Hello Kitty underwear still smell like ass even after they’ve been shoved in a dirty clothes hamper for 2 days. (If only my daughter had learned this as well….)

** I need a vacation.

** “Dancing With the Stars” reminds me of “The Lawrence Welk Show” with sluttier outfits.

** Why just get a Grande when I can get a Venti?

** A polygon is a dead parrot.  (Props to my son, the comedian, for that one.)

** The devil horns pop out of my children’s heads at approximately 7:02 every night.

** Allergies are trying to make the Nucking Futs family swim with the fishes.

** I really need to reiterate the “dump & flush” rule in this house.

** Joe Biden likes to drop the F-bomb whenever possible.

** Did I mention that I need a vacation?

** My family’s trying like hell to get us on an episode of “Hoarders.”

** I am asked 788,946 questions every day.

** Despite what I might think, God does not give me more than I can handle.

Baring It All

     You know that saying, “Curiosity killed the cat?”  Well, I’m quite certain that phrase would apply to me if I ever did choose to throw caution to the wind and get naked with my bad self on a nude beach.  I must admit that deep-down I actually do have a desire to see what it’s like to lounge around in my birthday suit amongst the sea gulls and other beachgoers.  It just seems like it would be so liberating and refreshing, not to mention the awesome line-free tan I’d get as a result.  However, it would be just my luck that my sweet little moment of liberation would be completely pooped on by some unexpected outside force.

     I speak somewhat from experience when I say that I see this whole scenario playing out in a glass half-empty type of outcome.  You see, back in my pre-kids teaching days, I was lying on the beach one summer afternoon in my itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikini when I happened to see a group of students heading my way.  Considering that these boys, who were packing serious hormones in their pants, would, in fact, be occupying my classroom in just a few short weeks, I practically dug a hole and buried myself in the sand to avoid making eye-contact with them.  I could just picture the first week of school and having to stand up in front of these boys and expect them to take me seriously.  Thank God I’d grabbed my oversized beach towel that day so that I could roll up in it like a hot dog in a bun.  I was taking no chances.

     Regardless, though, I can’t help but be a little bit curious about stripping down all the way.  I know it would be just my fortune, however, that I’d end up like this poor woman my mom heard about from a patient at the dentist office where she works.  This lady, a teacher in the midwest, was on a cruise ship that happened to stop at a topless beach one day.  She figured what the hell and adapted to the “when in Rome” philosophy by whipping her top off. As she was lying there in all her unveiled glory, she suddenly heard a voice calling her name.  When she opened her eyes, she saw the parent of one of her students standing over the top of her and her bare boobs.  I’m pretty sure that she died right then and there of embarrassment, causing a ridiculously painful sunburn on her ariolas.  Can you even imagine the awkwardness of THAT parent/teacher conference?!

     That poor woman’s story is something that would totally happen to me.  You’ve read enough about all the stupid shit that happens to me to know that this is true.  However, the older I get, the less I care about what people think, so maybe I’ll just get crazy and streak the beach when we go down to visit my mother-in-law in Florida for spring break.  I may give an old-timer or two a heart-attack, but hey, it might just be worth that tiny burst of freedom, don’t ya think?

Facing One’s Fears

    

     Two years ago, my husband and I were vacationing with friends in Mexico when he came damn close to drowning.  It was an experience that literally rocked us to the very core and has haunted him ever since.  Upon returning to the scene of the crime during our Cabo trip last week, he felt compelled to write about the ordeal and how he finally conquered his fears:

Today I returned to the place. THE place where I was moments from meeting my maker. It was far from pleasant in one of the world’s most picturesque locations.

I was stupid, wrecklessly so. I was body surfing where no one should. It’s called Divorce Beach. And, numerous people said “don’t swim there.” All seemed like lore and not applicable to ME. I mean WTF? I can swim, right? Besides, I was bored. I’m not much for laying in the sun; so, I thought i’d just play around in the waves a bit.

BIG MISTAKE.

I owe my life to two friends (via my wife – Kent & Guy, I owe you forever) and a few locals from Cabo San Lucas. After +5 min of struggling in a killer undertow, people realized I was in trouble.

I can confirm when you think you are going to die, your life flashes before your eyes. But it wasn’t just that – future moments flashed before me. Watching my son’s first touchdown, seeing my daughter getting married, my 50 year anniversary to my lovely and loving wife. It sucked. Worst moment of my life until… 4 guys grasping hands in a human chain trying to reach me were obliterated by an 8 ft wave.

I now believed I would be responsible for not only ending my own life but that of others as well. No contest – worst 30 seconds of my existence. I count my lucky stars that each one of those heroic men popped back up – mainly because I didn’t want to be the cause of their demise but also because they eventually pulled me from the torture I endured.

Today I returned to that beautiful spot. I had a little apprehension, but I do believe I’m smarter for the experience. I wanted to replace that memory with a far better one.

While I don’t think you can ever replace a near death experience, I gave it my damnest today. I barked with sea lions, I marvelled at larger than life whales, I was surrounded by schools of colorful fish, and I floated on those same currents that anonymously and without malice wanted my last breath two years ago.

It was pure joy. I’m alive. I love my kids, my wife and my life. And now when I look upon that iconic symbol of vacationing in Mexico, I can reflect on lessons learned AND good times had.

Reality Bites

     

     Ever feel like you’ve been chewed up and spit out by a garbage disposal?  Or sucker-punched by that crazy son of a bitch Mike Tyson?  Or knocked around all over the place like a damn hockey puck?  If so, then you can commiserate with me and my post-vacation jolt into reality.  If not, then you suck, and I might claw your eyes out to steal your secret to inner peace and happiness.

     We’ve all heard that term, “I need a vacation from my vacation.”  And this saying could not ring more true for parents of small children who return home from a kid-free vacation.  It’s like the short people feel the need to make up for lost time and put on their very WORST behavior all for your benefit. You come back all relaxed and smiley and dreaming about guacamole, and then < WHAM! > all hell breaks loose right before you.  They’re fighting, they’re whining, they’re total pains in the asses.  Their new favorite hobby seems to be driving you up a freaking tree.  

     And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the half-pints appear to have conspired with the dog, cause he, too, has decided to poop all over your parade.  He’s biting every inch of your ass, he’s eating everything from crayons to report cards, and he’s on his way to being auctioned off to the first person to make an offer.  You truly wonder if Satan himself possessed the water supply while you’re gone, because it seems as if your entire family has been demonized.

     Then there’s the toppling towers of mail and laundry that have accumulated in your absence.  It’s as if every piece of junk mail in the entire universe somehow made its way into your mailbox within the span of just a few days.  And you can’t help but speculate if the neighbors decided to dump all their dirty clothes into YOUR hampers while you were away.  Getting either of these piles to disappear seems even more impossible than getting Paris Hilton to wear underwear.

     Unfortunately, as much as you try to fight it, the overwhelming feeling of reality absolutely takes over that relaxed vacation feeling you had just days ago.  And before you know it, your happy-go-lucky vibe is replaced with your usual get-me-the-eff-outta-here vibe.  Life and all its frustrations makes your get-away feel like light years ago.  Maybe that’s why we appreciate those rare opportunities so much.  I’m already jonesin’ for the next one.

Crazy In Cabo

     Ahh, vacation.  There’s nothing like getting far, far away to a beautiful place like Cabo San Lucas, Mexico in the dead of winter.  A girl could really get used to sipping mango margaritas, lounging by the pool, and waking up to views like this every day:

     To me, one of the great things about going on vacation is meeting new people.  And in a party place like Mexico, you’re bound to come across your fair share of crazy characters.  I was particularly fond of this group of super young thangs who told me over and over and over again that I, too, looked like I was in my twenties:

Sure they may have done one too many tequila shots, but I was very appreciative of the compliment, nonetheless.  (What can I say — I’m a sucker for flattery.)

     And then there was the group of dudes my husband dared me to get a picture with at the Nowhere Bar.  They were dressed in overalls and ski goggles and stuck out like sore thumbs.  I wasn’t sure if they were farmers or snowboarders, but they were certainly willing to play along with me.  Not only did they agree to pose with me, but they also decided to boost me into the air like I was Madonna in the “Material Girl” video:

     And given that it’s Mexico, clothes are often a little more than just revealing.  Some people even like to get jiggy with it and take that concept to a whole new level.  For instance, check out this guy chillin’ with a beer at the Happy Ending bar:

     By far, though, the most incredibly bizarre individual we encountered was a dude who was a dead ringer for Santa Claus.  I never in my life thought I’d witness old man Kringle guzzle jello shots and hump a sombrero on a dance floor.  It would scar my kids for life if they saw this picture of the North Pole wonder giving my friend a lap dance:

 

Really, does it get much better than that?  I would say my friend’s gonna have a VERY good Christmas this year.  I was so grateful for all the laughs, that I had to kiss the upside down man on the sign out in front of the bar:

     And what fun would a vacation be without a little pole dancing?  Good thing our friends at El Squid Roe had one ready and waiting for us to take a little spin.  You know what they say, friends who pole dance together, stay together.  (At least that’s what we told ourselves that night, anyway):

     However, night after night of tequila will inevitably catch up with you.  I felt like Jose Cuervo himself had possessed my body.  Could this sign have summed it up any better?

     It was such a refreshing change of pace to get away from all my responsibilities and let loose for a few days.  It helped me to remember that I’m not just a mom and a chef and a taxi driver and a maid.  No worries, though, cause my kids made sure to remind me of all the fun I’d been missing here at home by throwing a tantrum or two to pull me right outta my Mexican state of bliss.  Adios, vacation zen.  It was nice knowing ya….

The Staycation

     

     My hubby is taking the week off from work this week, and in the spirit of trying to save a buck or two in this crappy economy, he came up with the cheapskate brilliant idea of a “staycation” for our family. Now, personally, I despise that stupid term, because it truly makes no sense to me whatsoever. How can you be on vacation if you stay at home??!!  It totally contradicts itself, if you ask me.

     Being a stay at home mom, I, especially, don’t seem to benefit much at all from this whole “staycation” idea.  Since I will never really be leaving my office, I will always be staring at my work.  There will still be laundry to pile up, dishes to clean, and floors to sweep.  I have a really hard time just flat-out ignoring those things.  My hubby gets to physically leave his work downtown while mine is flipping me the middle finger all week long!  I ask you, where is the fairness in that??!!

     And to prove this case in point, guess what I did on Day One of this little “staycation?”  I spent three hours in the basement trying to create some kind of organized order to the chaotic disarray of toys, dvd’s and video games that seem to have exploded all over the floor down there.  I know, I know, you’re all probably jealous right now at the thought of such an exciting way to spend an afternoon.  I do have to give credit where credit is due though and say that my hubby did go down in the trenches with me and help to put a dent in the huge wreck of a mess.  Nothing says vacation like a nose full of dust and five trash bags full of broken toys, does it?  Good times.  Good times.

     We do have some fun things planned to do with the kids this week, which will help to suspend my disbelief that we are not really on any type of getaway whatsoever.  For example, today we are going to a little kiddie amusement park for the whole afternoon.  It’s close to an hour’s drive away, so I guess we will technically be out of town today. However, there’s still the looming completion of the basement-clean up project, as well as a thousand other things around here to snap me back into the reality of the situation. I’m still doing all the things I’d normally be doing, while the hubs is the one who’s “on vacation.” Some “staycation.”  I’m asking for an I.O.U…..

The Sting of Reality

     Know what really sucks about coming home from vacation after a week? EVERYTHING!  Even though we were just down at my parents’ house for a visit, I have truly been living in fantasy land for seven days now.  I didn’t have to clean, do laundry or go grocery shopping!  I had people cooking for me every single night!  I had other people to entertain my kids besides myself!  Wait — what the hell was I thinking?  Why is it that I came home again??!!

     The single most unappealing thing about coming home for me is the unpacking.  I absolutely loathe putting away all the wrinkled, unworn clothes that have gotten all balled up in our suitcases.  I never know if I should wash them again or just pray that the wrinkles somehow magically disappear while hanging in the closet.  Plus, any time we take a car trip, I always pack five thousand different snacks for the kids that also have to be returned to their rightful jam-packed resting place in the pantry.  And every time I do, I wonder why on earth I packed so many damn snacks in the first place!  I also end up kicking myself for telling my kids to pack some things in their backpacks to take along with them.  They always end up cramming their bags full of the most random things they can possibly find, which then end up scattered throughout the floor of the car by the time we finally get home.    

     As if the unpacking wasn’t bad enough in and of itself, there’s also the insane amount of laundry that has piled up from our week in make-believe world.  I typically just cram all of our dirty laundry into one giant trash bag to bring home with us.  So, I then get the unbridled pleasure of sorting through the giant mess of darks, whites and every other color in the rainbow.  I find myself wondering if skipping laundry for a week was all that it was cracked up to be.  

     And then, there’s the inevitable trip to the good old grocery store. Being gone for a week equals a refrigerator full of nothing but condiments.  I typically remember this as I’m about to start preparing a meal for my kids, and then I realize that, OH CRAP, WE HAVE NO FOOD IN THE HOUSE!  The last thing I want to do after coming off an out of town trip is to think about meal planning.  I am soooo NOT a meal planner.  My parents had every single meal planned out for the entire week, and I’m not just talking main dishes — I’m talking side dishes, desserts, and the whole nine yards! I couldn’t even tell you what we’re having for dinner tonight, let alone in two days.  It was so nice to have someone else who was willing to do all that thinking for me for a change.  Now that it’s back to reality, I get to meander through the grocery store trying to rack my brain with menu selections.  

     All of this back-to-the-real-world stuff can really knock your socks off. I’m exhausted, overwhelmed, and buried in things to do. Do you think maybe I should just go back to bed and pretend I’m still on vacation?            

                                     < S-M-A-C-K! >

 Well, thanks a lot, reality, for clearing that up for me….