Sorry for the absence but my youngest had a seven day fever that she just got over. It was a rough week to say the least.
You see, she has a really GREAT but really tough teacher this year. So missing a week of school can be a real challenge. But thanks to mom of the year here, I managed to home school her all week to minimize the make-up work. I picked up her work daily and spent a few hours every day teaching her Social Studies, Math and Science. We read the weekly story and studied vocabulary. We answered reading comprehension questions, DOL’s and completed a multitude of worksheets. I administered her Social Studies test and her Spelling test for the week. Her teacher even dropped off more work for us on Saturday. Can you say “WOW”?
At the end of all, she begged me to go back to school. Because she has no desire to be home schooled by her mommy. Thank goodness for small favors.
Of course, the craziness doesn’t end. I now have less than two days to get ready to travel to Chicago for the Thanksgiving break. And I am feeling a wee bit overwhelmed.
But those feelings didn’t stop me from going on a girl’s weekend in the mountains. I almost bailed but something pushed me to go despite all the chores hanging over my head - thanks to a sick kid. But I believe that everything happens for a reason.
And I needed to be there this weekend. As it turned out, the whole weekend was a bit bizarre. Two of the women couldn’t come, one due to a sick kid and the other was sick herself. And two women couldn’t come until Saturday morning. So we chilled on Friday night sitting on the porch overlooking the mountain valley and drinking some wine. Very peaceful.
On Saturday, after the others arrived, we enjoyed a day at the spa being pampered with mud baths and massages. Relaxing on the deck as we looked out to the North Carolina mountains. A small slice of heaven.
On the way home from the spa, we picked up tickets to see New Moon at the local theater. It was expected to be a sold out show. We hurried home to shower, get dressed and rush back to the show. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time for dinner so we decided that we would just have to eat a late dinner after the movie. Big mistake.
To make a long story short, one of the women whom I had just met that morning was diabetic. However, I did not know this. But she happened to sit beside me during the movie. About an hour into the movie, she started fussing around in her purse. Meanwhile, I was trying not to pay attention as to not be nosy. Eventually, my friend (with whom the girl beside me went to college) on the other side began talking to her. Asking her if everything is okay. At this point, I saw her check something on her hip. And I realized it was an insulin pump.
Now I immediately started paying attention. Because my brother-in-law is diabetic. And has gone into insulin shock while visiting us. And it is very scary and very serious. And when it occurs, somebody needs to get them sugar. In liquid form and fast.
Although I didn’t know this woman very well, I recognized pretty quick what was happening and I told my friend to go get a COKE from the concession stand. All the while, we were still sitting in the movie theater. She hurried off to the concession stand and I stayed with the diabetic. After a few minutes, I left her with the other women with us to put a rush on the drink and to call 911.
Fortunately, we got her the drink and she was conscious enough to drink about 1/3 of the COKE before the paramedics arrived and carried her out of the theater. Ultimately, the paramedics checked her out, eventually the COKE did its magic raising her blood sugar and they released her to us. But not before we were quite the spectacle. Imagine ambulance, stretcher, the whole nine yards. At a small theater out in the mountains.
At the end of the day, I felt very fortunate that I was there and had experienced the situation before. Because insulin shock can be fatal. And that is just too scary to even think about.
Funny part of the story . . . the group wanted to sneak a bottle of wine into the theater. Of course, I was the DD and was fairly vocal about thinking that was a bad idea. They called me a rule follower and a buzz kill but left the wine at home. Then thanked me later for that decision as we would have looked like total idiots had we had a bottle of wine with us when all that other stuff went down.
Sad part of the story . . . I missed the last forty-five minutes of New Moon.
I finally downloaded the pictures off my daughter’s camera from our camping trip to Cloundland Canyon a few weeks ago. And I promised to share them . . .
The colors were absolutely gorgeous. I thought we might be a bit early for the leaves but I found it more interesting with a little bit of green interspersed amongst the yellow, red and orange. And with all the rain we have been experiencing over the past couple of months, I was deathly afraid the weather was going to put a damper on the weekend. But it only misted slightly Saturday morning which was hardly enough to bother even me.
We began the morning hike at the East Rim.
My oldest daughter’s BFF came along with us on the weekend trip. Her parents originally had plans to join us which got tripped up by their middle son’s baseball team advancing to the championship game. But I digress.
Down 682 steps to the two waterfalls. Deep in the canyon.
Thanks to all the rain, they were moving pretty good.
Of course, what goes down must come up. Yes, we burned out our quads racing back up the canyon to the campsite. Because daddy and I made a bet about how fast we could get back.
After listening to the Georgia Tech game on XM Radio and securing another victory, we decided to set out on a much bigger hike. The five mile West Rim Loop.
And I am proud to say that nobody had to be carried during the hike and we didn’t get lost trying to find a shortcut back.
Nor did little one roll out of the tent in the middle of the night and sleep outside on the gravel. And she didn’t even trip and fall into the fire this time. Her whole eighteen month old body laying in the campfire. As all that literally happened eight and a half years ago at Cloudland Canyon. Yes, it was quite the experience. And to think all that happening on our first ever camping trip as a family didn’t deter us from camping every year since. Go ahead, call us stupid. I would.
So I am leading you to think this trip was a complete success, right?
Not exactly. I mean, this is life after all. And we all know what happens in life.
Fortunately, my parents and our old college friends joined us for the weekend. But as I mentioned before, our neighbor friends were unable to accompany us on the trip. So we decided to borrow their camper. Which had running water, beds, bathroom, kitchen and most importantly, heat. Perfect for me since my biggest complaint while camping is how freaking cold I get being outside 24/7. And it was going down to 35 degrees Saturday night/Sunday morning.
Here’s where the trip broke down. Sunday morning about 3 am, my hubby shakes me awake to announce that the heat has not cycled on in the past hour. He thinks something must be wrong.
First thing that goes through my head is, “Thanks a lot for waking me up. Because now I am aware of how cold it has become. At least before I was asleep if not cold.”
Second thing that goes through my head is, “The heat runs on propane and since the heat is broken . . . then we could be in danger and the camper is going to explode.”
But the more rational side of me beat down those thoughts with thoughts like, “If we explode into a million tiny pieces, then it must be our time to go.” Remember, it is the middle of the night and 35 degrees. Logical thinking was limited at best.
After panic had ceased and hubby and I had sat awake for about an hour discussing what may have caused the heat to break, a red light kicks on. Registering the hot water heater was calling for propane and not receiving any. At which point, it became clear that the propane tank had run dry. So I switched off the hot water heater (we had already turned the heat to off) and relaxed as best as possible. Because at least I wasn’t going to asphyxiate on propane gas or blow up.
Unfortunately, I was dressed in regular PJ’s thinking I was to spend the evening sleeping in a heat filled camper. With nothing more than a cheap sleeping bag rated for no less than 40 degrees. It was now 4:15 am and I was a popsicle. Sleep was not exactly forthcoming. But I couldn’t exactly get out of bed and go watch TV. So I lay there. Freezing my booty off for the next three hours until the sun rose. At which point, I began to pack up as quickly as possible.
And vowed to reserve a cabin as soon as possible for next year’s trip. To which my kids announced, “That is cheating. That isn’t real camping.”
Ask me if I care . . .
During my morning blog trolling, I found an interesting post about the holidays at Ordinary Courage by Brene Brown. That sounded all too familiar. To set the stage, let me share a couple of excerpts . . .
We live in a world where life can easily become pageantry, and the best performers make it look balletic and effortless. Of course, there’s no such thing as an effortless holiday show. If you sneak a peek behind most people’s red velvet curtains at holiday time, you’ll often see houses brimming with anxiety, maxed-out credit cards, crying children, and marriages that make the cold war look warm and fuzzy.
Now I can definitely relate to this. Especially the part about making it seem effortless. Let me tell you people, it is far from effortless. The older I get, the more effort it seems to take. Now I live with a man who seems to have endless energy no matter how little sleep he gets or how many adult beverages he consumes. But I would be the polar opposite. Which makes for interesting banter during the holiday hoopla to say the least. Picture me at midnight, cold, sick and tired, laying on the couch while hubby is getting out the 1001 Christmas decorations. Decorations that I am begging him to leave in storage because perhaps 500 decorations can be enough this year.
When our lives become pageants, we become actors. When we become actors, we sacrifice authenticity. Without authenticity, we can’t cultivate love and connection. Without love and connection, we have nothing.
Granted, most of the time spent decorating for Christmas in our house cultivates love and connection. Especially if you omit the time spent centering a live Christmas tree in the stand. Trust me, that is not a happy time. But I digress. Anyhow, we light a fire in the fireplace, dial in my iTouch to the Christmas playlist, and all four of us work happily together setting up the Christmas village and all the holiday decor. Because the joy it brings my children makes it worth the effort. But when it crosses over the line from decorating for the family versus decorating for display . . . that is when we need to take a step back and reevaluate. Yes, I find myself in this position every year as I am frantically trying to finish up homemade Christmas cards (a holiday tradition that I can’t seem to let go) before it is no longer Christmastime. Ultimately, my Energizer bunny husband finds himself doing much of the grunt work behind my masterpiece to ensure completion. Sometimes, I find the anxiety and self-inflicted pressure to make it perfect outweighs the joy of the creation. And that is not a good thing.
So my theme this holiday season is focusing on what is really important, remembering to live in the moment, and keeping it real. Because it takes a lot less effort to be who we really are than to be actors trapped inside ourselves. Seriously. I need to conserve my energy any way I can. That is, if I want half a chance of keeping up with the rest of my family.
Another Halloween has come and gone. And how fitting that this year, we would spend most of it amidst drizzle and rain. But bad weather could not dampen our spirits or activities. (Note: the flower costume was handmade by myself and the hippie costume was handmade by BFF’s mommy.)
Nope. These girls were all smiles and ready to go. Our first order of business was to hop aboard the annual hayride to take us to the Halloween party and parade at the neighborhood clubhouse.
Oldest daughter and her BFF were peaced out while littlest was their flower child.
Unfortunately, this year’s ride was a bit scarier than usual. You see, the design was modified slightly from last year to accomodate a different trailer. And the engineering of the platform did not hold up against the steep hills and heavy weight. As we were merrily on our way, we heard the eerie creaking of nails pulling out of wood. Underneath the children. And the mommies immediately started to panic. STOP the ride. Get the children off. As we unloaded the kids out the back, it began to completely separate. We realized that we needed to shift the weight to the front and dismount over the side or disaster was imminent.
After all the children were safely on the sidewalk and sent on to the parade with their mommies, the daddies proceeded to reengineer the ride to ensure safety for the rest of the evening. I was reassured by hubby that chains were involved and that it was okay to allow my children back on after the parade. I was skeptical to say the least. But all is well that ends well. And the ride was ever so popular for trick-or-treating in the rain.
One of the highlights from our day was carving our pumpkins. We typically buy pumpkins every year but leave them untouched on our front steps.
But I decided to do something different this year. I picked up a book of pumpkin stencils and an electric carving saw. I must say that I was quite pleased with the results.
And they made great jack-o-lanterns to adorn our front steps. I can’t say the girls were as enamored by the activity as I thought they would be. But hubby and I enjoyed it.
I will close with a picture of Coco sporting her new haircut for Halloween. She received the spa treatment at PetCo on Thursday.
She loved all the trick-or-treaters ringing the doorbell. She uttered not a single bark. And said “hi” to most the treaters. I still find it impossible to understand how such a well-behaved dog ended up in animal control and rescued on her last day.
I can’t learn from my mistakes? Now if I could just teach my kids to do the same, right?
You see, oldest daughter lost her brand new hoodie a couple of weeks ago. Which matches a pair of pants to make a coordinated outfit. Of course, she didn’t actually realize it was lost until she went to put it on as we are rushing out the door. At which time, I completely lost it on the child. Poor thing had no clue what just hit her. And I felt terrible about it. Apologized profusely for being a jerk. Not one of my brighter moments.
Fortunately, Daddy randomly recalled seeing a jacket matching ’said hoodie’ at the tennis courts while walking Coco earlier that week. Which means that it had been at the courts for no less than four days. Where she left it during her tennis match. And it had rained three of the four days. But I digress. Amazingly, we swung by the courts to find her brand new hoodie hanging soaking wet on the fence by the courts. Miracles never cease.
So this morning, we are getting ready for school. And youngest daughter announces that she can’t find her hoodie. You know, the one that matches a coordinated outfit like her sister’s but in a different color. Sadly, little one is much more attached to her hoodie. But I didn’t fly off the handle this time. No, I stayed ever so calm. Even though it was minutes before she had to leave for the bus stop. Even though she refused to check the lost and found at school because “that is just too embarassing”. Even when she tried to blame me for losing it. Even when she insisted that it wasn’t her fault. Even when she said the last time she remembered wearing it was at the ball park on Sunday. Which would mean that it is gone for EVER. No, I kept a smile on my face and made light of the situation by singing my rendition of the Black-Eyed Peas song, “I got a feeling…ohhhhoooo….that Coo has lost her favorite hoodie.” To which she responded as I kissed her goodbye, “Mee-moo, could you go buy me a new hoodie today?” You know, all sad and everything…
Because that my friends, is how my little ones think. ”Who cares if I lose something? Mee-moo can just buy me another one.” Another wonderful teaching moment in my amazing journey through parenthood. Yes, I fear it is time for little one to learn the hard way from her mistakes.
I wanted to share a few pictures from my oldest daughter’s Hippie party this month.
All the girls invited were asked to come dressed as a hippie (that is what she is sporting for Halloween this year). And it seemed like a good idea for her eleventh birthday theme. The evening began with pizza for dinner. And a little bit of dancing.
Next, we wore them out with a quick scavenger hunt in the neighborhood. The girls split into two teams, one led by my hubby and one led by me. Of course, my team, I mean my oldest daughter’s team, won. I must say, that this was my favorite part of the evening. Good, old fashioned fun. I still have fond memories of the scavenger hunt birthday party that I attended when I was in fifth grade. It ranked up there in the top five birthday parties for me.
Then, we ate ice cream cake and opened presents. It was interesting to see how the gifts have shifted from toys to clothes, gift cards and accessories. Girly stuff, you know?
Nothing but smiles and a red mustache from the birthday girl. Gotta love the peace sign earrings, too.
Immediately following presents, we fired up the movie, Herbie Fully Loaded on the big screen in the garage. And let the children chill with popcorn and water.
To wrap up the evening in style, we headed outside to the fire pit for s’mores and roasted marshmallows. Thankfully, a bit of a cold front had swept through the south to make it absolutely perfect for a fire outdoors.
And what Hippie party would be complete without a lava lamp and tie dye? Good times, people.
My new favorite picture of Coco . . . as taken by my sister this weekend.
Although I plan to take some pictures of her tomorrow in her new playpen. She absolutely adores it outside now where she can run free with the kids and such.
Feeling pretty perky this morning. Because we are having the fence built today. And the guy showed up bright and early at 7:45 am to get started. I am hoping it will be complete by the end of today. So my precious little Coco can run wild and free back there. Like she did this weekend at my sister’s house.
Of course, I need to go downstairs to pay bills and clean up paperwork. It is time for the end of month close out. I also need to do some work around the house since we were gone camping all weekend. More about that trip later when I download the pictures. It had its highs and lows, to say the least.
Inspired by The Simple Woman’s Day Book.
Outside my window… there is lots of sunshine on a beautiful fall day in the south.
I am thinking… about helping others.
I am thankful for… my family, my health, my dog and my friends.
From the kitchen… tasty chili simmering on the stove.
I am wearing… a nike long sleeved white shirt and long black pants. And my fuzzy slippers from Target.
I am creating… a homemade Halloween costume for my daughter who decided to be a flower this year.
I am going… to the mountains to go camping this weekend and hoping for pleasant weather to go hiking.
I am reading… Harry Potter: The Chamber of Secrets by JK Rowling. I only have a few pages left to finish.
I am hoping… to landscape my backyard and build a screened porch soon.
I am hearing… the sound of my dog’s breathing while she sleeps on the floor next to me. And the sound of my stomach growling.
Around the house… there is silence. Everyone is gone, the kids are at school and hubby at work.
One of my favorite things… playing tennis for my physical health and sanity.
A few plans for the rest of the week… family time, tennis match, and a trip to the mountains.
A picture to share…
So I have been doing a little research into what breed Coco really might be. Unfortunately, she has started giving my hubby a little bit of breathing trouble after two weeks in the house. But it is nothing compared to non-hypo allergenic dogs. Thank goodness.
Yet it has motivated me to dig a little bit deeper into her breed. . . that and the fact that lots and lots of people ask what breed she is and hence give me their opinion when I reply that she is a rescue mix of which origin we are not entirely sure. And the following pictures happen to be the likely candidates according to the street experts.
Tell me what you think . . .
Above, we have the German Wire Haired Pointer . . .
Next, we have the Labradoodle . . .
Then, there is the Schnoodle . . .
Last, the Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier . . .
And of course, a picture of Coco . . .
Cast your votes. I seem to change my mind daily.
