Hey, let’s talk about something else
I’m feeling all vulnerable and naked and stuff, and even though you were super nice about it (you’re my favorite, have I mentioned?), I feel the need to change the subject.
Unfortunately, I’m not all that smart, so I’m going to change the subject from “ZOMG THIS SUCKS AND WE ARE ALL SAD” to “HEY GIRLS SOMETIMES HURT MY FEELINGS.” This is… only a slight improvement. And the funny part is that it grew out of a conversation had while camping, when I was feeling perfectly relaxed and calm and happy and not like the world’s worst mother OR like all women are bitches. Huh.
Anyway, if you could also use the distraction, my thoughts are over at Off Our Chests. My delicate flower, easily wounded thoughts. I’m off to procure a fainting couch.
And it goes on and on and on
While we were camping and tormenting small dogs with boogie boards, Chickadee was spending a week with her dad. One of the things I shouldn’t say out loud—but will, because I’ve learned by now that everyone in a similar situation feels it, and guilt about it is just stupid—is that it was a relief to be apart for a few days. Not because we don’t love her (we do), not because we weren’t worried about her (we were), but because she is, at this point, due to many factors out of her control, completely and totally exhausting.
A child with a chronic illness is a challenge to a parent’s patience and endurance, under the best of circumstances. A teenager with a chronic illness is a vicious beast determined to make The Unpleasantness a family affair. A newly-diagnosed Aspie who also happens to be a teenager with a chronic illness is a special circle of hell reserved for those of us who once, foolishly, prayed for patience.
I know I’m supposed to say that I will do whatever she needs because she is my child and I love her, and that’s 100% true. But that doesn’t mean I like it. read more…
Beware the paparazzi
“You know, I’m just catching some waves, enjoying some time with the family, sneezing for pieces of banana, and the cameras still follow me wherever I go. This isn’t even my good side! And my tail was all tangled! Hmph. I need a drink. Hey, is that bacon grease?”
Everyone in the lake!
The best thing to do when you’ve spent a week in a different time zone and you’re still adjusting to that giant Time Hangover where you never want to go to bed at night but you’re dragging around exhausted in the morning is to pack up again and go camping.
Well, no; that is absolutely NOT the best thing to do, but Otto apparently doesn’t realize that. Heh. Kidding! I kid. I totally wanted to go camping. Kind of. Right after I take a nap.
Anyway, we decided to drag Mario’s family to one of our favorite campgrounds, and the way it worked out was that Mario got dropped at our place and came up with us, yesterday after lunch, and his parents were going to come about an hour later, after his dad got done with work. We drove up here in a cacophony of smallish boys one-upping each other with various monster scenarios (“And then that one went BBBBZTBRRRRP and ripped the other one’s head off!”), and after about an hour I dug some Excedrin out of my purse and mild-mannered Otto finally said, quite sternly, “NO MORE SOUND EFFECTS.” (Monkey snorted, but Mario meekly responded, “Yes, sir.”)
And then we got here and Mario’s parents were MIA for hours. We figured that would be a good scam for getting rid of your kid, but eventually they showed up, and they brought lasagna (made with rice pasta for me!), and a jolly start to our camping adventure was had by all. read more…
I’ll be out in the garden
As longtime readers know, this is the part of the year when I become completely enamored of my garden, as if I, personally, invented the tomato plant.
I got to thinking about it, and realized my gardening zeal isn’t really about the garden at all. It’s about what it makes me have in common with ducks.
No, really. Come on over to Off Our Chests today and I’ll explain; I think everyone should have at least one thing that makes them forget everything else for a little while.
Mango Fixation would be a good band name
It feels like there should be a tie-it-all-up-nicely conclusion to the Arizona trip, but of course that’s never really how it happens. It was a wonderful trip and the week went by too quickly, and now we’re home and suffering the after-effects of all that wine camaraderie and late-night gaming. Plus the time change coming back feels a lot like a hangover all on its own.
No one told me that my stepbrother is a game FIEND. During a lull one afternoon, the kids started going through the games they found on one of the rental house’s massive built-in bookshelves and decided that we could all play Yahtzee together. Unfortunately, opening the box revealed that there were no scoresheets.
“No problem,” said Bobby (no, of course that’s not actually his name), reaching for his laptop. “I have a spreadsheet for that.” Because OF COURSE HE DOES. It even calculates your score on the fly. I suddenly felt like a Luddite. (This feeling was not helped by losing spectacularly. Monkey won, followed closely by 5-year-old Banana, and then the rest is blurry except that I came in dead last.) read more…
In case you want some flowers of your own
This isn’t a real post, because if it was, I would probably be telling more vacation stories, none of which (thankfully) involve further car wreckage.
Nope, this is about the many comments left on yesterday’s post about the flower my dad is sporting on his blazer. When we first learned we would potentially be having an on-the-spot wedding at the Grand Canyon, I felt certain that flowers were required. But real flowers in the Canyon seemed… complicated. So I went to Etsy—as one does—and it was there I discovered the awesome folks at Muncle Fred Art.
A funny thing happened on the way to the courthouse
I am not really sure how to tell this, so I guess I’ll start back at the beginning.
The first thing you need to know is that when my dad and stepmom decided to get married on our trip, they were thinking we would all just go to the Grand Canyon and then we’d find a pretty place and then my stepbrother (who is an experienced Dude Who Can Perform Marriages, Ordained By The Internet) would do a quick ceremony and we’d all continue on our hike or whatever. Apparently the last time they were there, they saw a couple being married there and thought it would be picturesque. Nice idea, yes?
Well, it turns out that if you want to get married at the Canyon, you need to get a PERMIT. And you have to pay for it, and they have all kinds of rules, and so it was decided in the name of Not Being Complicated that we would simply visit the Canyon, but have the wedding here at the rental house (which is plenty picturesque, too). read more…
Hold that thought
I have many, many things to tell you about yesterday. The whole family has been getting in on the action, too—suggesting post titles, pointing out this thing or that which I simply must remember to include in the details—but it will have to wait one more day. I’m sorry to be a tease; circumstances beyond my control, and all that. Tomorrow! All the gory details!
Today, however, I have to go tend to some other things… like buying some Vaseline to stick in my nose. (Thanks for that suggestion. How had that not occurred to me before?)
While I’m gone, you can go check out my post over at Off Our Chests about our visit to the Grand Canyon. Did I mention that that place is really, really big? Because it is.
Wait, what time is it??
I am a great big giant baby when it comes to jetlag. This is, of course, because I am a delicate flower in general, and when you take a delicate flower and plunk her down someplace where time is magically 3 hours different, no amount of “oh, there’s no such thing as jetlag going west!” and “three hours is practically nothing!” staves off the all-encompassing fatigue which I then feel for the next two days, because I’ve woken up at 3:00 in the morning (6:00! time to pack lunches!) and around the time that everyone else is having breakfast, all I want is a 4-hour nap.
So: I was not entirely jazzed when the family vote was that we would arrive and settle in on Saturday, then hit the Grand Canyon first thing on Sunday. Really? By the time we left our rented house here in Flagstaff at 9:30 in the morning, I was wondering how on earth I could possibly last an entire day, much less an entire day in the sun and walking along cliff edges.
I bravely disguised my fear, by the way, by rattling around in the kitchen until I located the coffee grinder, then brewing a pot of coffee so strong that Otto took a swig from the mug I placed in front of him and it singed his eyebrows. Liquid courage! read more…