Forced Relaxation

Our view from the balcony this morning.

Batman

It's our first morning at the beach and I'm trying very very hard to relax.  It's harder than it looks. I feel like I should be doing something - making breakfast, putting on sunscreen, packing beach snacks, blowing up pool floats, organizing the kitchen - something.  My big kids are on the balcony hanging out and chatting with their aunt and their tiniest cousin, who all seem pretty relaxed.  Going to try that "in the moment" thing this week and not worry about what we're doing next. Who cares if we aren't on the beach by 9am? Or if all the good pool chairs get taken?  Or if it rains later today which means that by staying in this morning we've missed all the best sun for the day?  Well,  I do at the moment but I'm going to try to just let it go. We're currently speculating on what the giant bat we can see down on the beach is made out of.  Black sand? Rocks? Seaweed? The shadow of an actual bat hovering somewhere up there?  And given the events of the weekend, is this a scary or a comforting sign?  I don't know.  Even Joel is pondering the deeper meaning of the Batman symbol as he tries to explain the unexplainable to our own eleven year old Batman fan who's dealing with a difficult dose of reality, wondering why anyone would shoot people in a movie theater. Sigh. I'm going to go back to hanging out with the girls, who at the moment are completely enthralled with the doorstop and how it bounces back and forth and back and forth when you flip it.  Seems like a good thing to focus on this morning.

The girls and the door stopper.

My Chickens Are Roosting

       For reasons that I won't delve into here (for fear that the children might read what I write someday), there was a moment very early in our dating life that I looked at Joel and said, "You know, if we ever get married and have children, I don't think you should be allowed to talk to them until they're at least 18."  It was a good plan and one I probably should have stuck to. Once the children were born, however, the day to day business of raising them necessitated that Joel be allowed to converse with them on occasion. I'll admit that things have been running along pretty smoothly for the last eleven years or so, and to his credit, Joel is a fabulous father. He coaches their teams, packs their lunches, and tucks them in at night.  He's also been known to hand out some words of wisdom on occasion (seriously).  But in between all the time he's spent being a great dad, he's also spent a lot of time (and I'm quoting him here) "being awesome."  Actually, Joel would probably say that he spends ALL of his time "being awesome" because awesomeness is not something you turn on and off, it's just something you are. Recently, I've started to see some troubling signs of "awesomeness" showing up in my oldest child.  He's always been a quieter soul and I had assumed (wrongly, it now seems) that he was genetically predispositioned to follow in his mother's more modest hide your light under a bushel basket footsteps.  Without giving too much detail I will explain that my sweet boy's awesomeness awakening began shortly after his eleventh birthday with a request for sleeveless shirts that would allow him to stage his own gun show and has continued to escalate through last night's dinner that resulted in me posting the following on Facebook:

    What I need to do immediately (TODAY!) is take steps to contain the awesomeness that is currently growing unchecked in my offspring - implement a full scale "Awesomeness Management Program" (AMP) if you will. I know that Joel will scoff at my efforts to dial down the level of household awesomeness because he firmly believes that awesomeness shouldn't be contained, but last night's dinner was a wake up call that the time for awesomeness abatement has come. AMP's first message will be simple - 

"Underwear is NOT Outerwear." 

This is an important lesson that both of our children need to embrace (especially the girl child!). I know that I'm facing an uphill battle. "Awesomeness" is relentless and those who are fully immersed in it's grasp tend to disregard anything that suggests to them that they are less than awesome. There are rare moments, however, when awesomeness fails and important life lessons can be introduced, as evidenced by Joel's recent experience in a local Fourth of July 5K. 

"Hubris is Heavy"

I suppose that "Hubris is Heavy" could serve as the foundation for the AMP campaign, but considering that half of my household is now embracing the "underwear as outerwear" life plan, I'm sticking with my decision to start there.  I've got to get some pants on these people.

 

All's Quiet on the Western Front

      I returned home from an outing with Sarah G. this afternoon to find my oldest child lounging about rather listlessly on the couch.  Annoyed, I asked him why he was just laying around in the middle of the afternoon and strongly encouraged him to get up and do something productive.  He dragged himself up to his room and dug around in his legos for a few minutes before returning to the couch and quickly falling asleep.  The falling asleep, that's what got my attention.  This is a child who has never voluntarily napped - never ever - yet there he was sound asleep with his back to the television at 4pm on a Sunday afternoon.  When I walked over and felt his forehead  it was obvious he had a fever.  The thermometer confirmed he had a temperature of 102.5. I proceeded to violate my cardinal rule of parenting which is "Never wake a sleeping baby" and woke him up so I could dose him up with Advil.  Once he was awake, I asked him how he was feeling.  My main concern was whether or not his stomach was upset because while I can remain calm and collected through a wide variety of illnesses, a potential stomach bug in the house sends me spiraling out of control. (Because everyone knows that a stomach bug has GOT TO BE CONTAINED and the key to containing a stomach bug is to catch it early and quarantine the carrier poor little ailing bunny and then hit the entire house hard with Clorox wipes and Lysol. You've got to stay ahead of it if at all possible, that's what I'm saying.)  Owen assured me many many times (because I asked many many times) that his stomach felt fine and he also said (repeatedly) that he was dizzy and his head was hurting." When I asked how long he'd been feeling this way he said, "since I was out running errands with dad."  Interesting.  "So," I asked, "did you tell your dad that you were dizzy and that your head was hurting?"  He had, he assured me. "And what did your dad say?", I queried. "He said we had to get my hair cut before we could go home."

Happier Hair Days.

     When Joel walked in the door a few minutes later I greeted him with a thermometer that was flashing "102.5" because I'm subtle like that. "You're son has a fever," I told him.  "Did he tell you he wasn't feeling good when you were out running errands? Because he says he did."  Joel said Owen  mentioned something about his head hurting and being dizzy while they were out and about, but by the time they got home he was kind of quiet, and in Joel's words - "quiet can be a good thing sometimes."  And as a longtime parent I would have to concur with that statement, quiet can be a good thing - sometimes.  But then there are those other times, LIKE TODAY, when "quiet" can be something else entirely,  like a fever!

     In Joel's defense (because he did defend himself), he said he assumed Owen was just being quiet because he didn't like his haircut.  Have I mentioned the haircut?  Yeah, it did not go well. Joel and I had already exchanged a few text messages along the lines of  OMG WTH did you let the stylist do to Owen's beautiful hair?!?!? It's WAY too short! Joel's reply -

Yes Joel, he does look tough.  And fevered.  And shorn.  On the bright side, he can now shower in mere seconds and he'll finally be able to put his hat collection to good use.  But still, poor poor little bunny.