‘Course I’m Wearing Bottoms!

(This one’s for you, Wanna!)

I hate swimsuit season! I love being at the beach. I love swimming in a pool, not a disgusting lake with fish and nasty, a pool. But I do NOT like being in a swimming suit.

I dread the very idea of getting into a swimming suit. What if I run into people I know? What if I see people I don’t know? What if I look worse in this contraption than I think? I know I’m not a “skinny bitch” and I feel bad for anyone that has to endure the sight of my overly-white body crammed into a small spandex  outfit. I feel your pain. I shower. I know what it looks like. I’m sorry.

That being said, there are people out there that aren’t sorry, or at least they don’t seem sorry. Part of me wishes I could be one of those no-holds-barred kind of girls that puts it all out there, is perfectly content, and doesn’t care what other people think. Then there’s the part of me that thinks, “Seriously?! You left the house in that?! What were you thinking? Don’t you own a mirror? Don’t you have any dignity?”

Why do the manufacturers of swimming suits make bikini’s in sizes over an 8? Once you reach double-digits no one wants to see that much skin unless they’re interested in sleeping with you. And I, my friend, am not interested in sleeping with you! Do us all a favor and cover it up and I’ll do the same in return!

Not Another Face Paint Incident

As we prepare for another RiseFest (held Saturday, June 20th in Orange City – I’ll expect all of you there), I was running down the list of activities at the Kids Zone to ensure we were ready to go next weekend. My eyes grazed the list and then stopped. Face paint. Did I see a note saying we were using acrylic face paint? Is that a good idea? Everything I read about acrylic paint suggests that you use it on ceramics and wood. Are we sure this is safe to use as face paint?

The rest of my team assures me that it will be fine. They discuss the quantity you would have to use before it becomes a toxicity issue.

Poisoning the children?! Seriously?! I hadn’t even thought about that. GREAT!

No, where my concerns lie are with the staining. You know, the face paints that don’t wash off.

When #1 turned 5 we invited her entire preschool class (one boy amongst a group of girls) out to the house for a party. We did it right. We did a jungle theme and ordered take home glasses, prizes for the planned games, balloons, face paint, the whole nine yards. I ordered these fabulous face paint markers. I thought it was a brilliant idea. It would make coloring on their small faces easier and no clean up! A mother must have invented these things.

As I drew balloons, butterflies and flowers on the youngsters faces, my husband took the liberty to be a bit more creative. He drew goatees, curly handlebar mustaches, and little German ‘staches on the little girls. Funny, right?

Even funnier when the party was over and we discovered that the face paint left stains on the kids’ faces. A father must have invented these horrible disfiguring instruments. Seriously?! Face Paints? They should have more aptly named them Face Stains! There are a few mothers I still can’t look in the eye to this day.

Please assure me that the acrylic paints won’t semi-permanently disfigure the faces of the kiddos at RiseFest. I can’t endure another incident.

The Big Tootsie Brawl

Sunday night I was spending quality time with my family. A few of my family members are cuter than others.

Seriously, check these two out. God just doesn’t make them much cuter than this!

The cutest thing about them is their sheer inability to hide their true feelings towards each other. Their emotion is out there for everyone to see. They don’t care what you think, they’re both full of attitude, know what they want, and make no apologies for that.

The one in the white (we’ll call her ‘S’), on this particular evening, was toting around a container of Tootsie Rolls. These were not her Tootsie Rolls, but they were in her possession, so I guess technically they were hers (9/10th’s is possession by law). S was very kindly handing out Tootsie Rolls to the adults that requested them.

The one in the green (we’ll call her ‘D’) decided she would like a Tootsie Roll and asked S quite politely for one, “I have a Tootsie Roll, peese.” (More of a statement than a question).

“NO!” was the reply from S.

“Peese…” begged D and started to advance.

“NO!” S repeated as she started to make a run for it.

D was determined and took off after her. She got S in a corner, went in for the steal and bellared “GIMME A TOOTSIE!”. She wasn’t messing around and if I was a betting woman (which you all know I’m not, right), I’d have put my money down on D. I’ve been told she packs quite a punch – her older sister can attest to that (but she looks so cute and innocent!).

At this point the mothers interfered (much to my dismay) and made me fork over one of the three Tootsies I’d confiscated from S before all the turmoil began. Oh how I wish I was still three and could protest, take my Tootsie loot, and head for the door, but no, I had to share.

When did we lose that carefree spirit of letting it all hang out and do what isn’t socially acceptable?

Only minutes after the big brawl that nearly left one blind and bloody, they reconciled and made nice.

Oh to be 3 again. Life was so much simpler!

Nothing About this is Normal

There is so much about my world that is not normal.

Last week I used the grill. I haven’t had the opportunity to use the grill since last summer.

I don’t remember it being held together with tape.

I don’t think it was like this when we bought it (about 10 years ago).

What do the propane exchange people think about this?

I’m not sure anything about our grill is normal, but I certainly know what Jack will be getting for Father’s Day this year!

While I was trying to hold the grill together and NOT burn the hamburgers, I couldn’t help but be annoyed by the abnormal number of maple seeds we have all over our driveway and the space between our garages.

We’ve cleaned them up once already. How can one maple tree produce this many seeds?

#2 & #3 tried to nurse two birds back to health in a box in our garage. I assured them that this was NOT normal. They bought nightcrawlers to feed them. They took them out of their box for exercise time. They even turned on a heater to keep them from shaking. When the birds did finally kick the bucket my abnormal children took it upon themselves to bury them in our front yard (not our backyard, mind you, our front yard!).

Right next to our mailbox.

Do you know what happens when you don’t bury a bird deep enough in the soil in your front yard?

This is what happens. And, this, my friends, is NOT normal.

Should we take bets on how long it takes before the mailman refuses to deliver our mail?

And last but not least…

There is NOTHING normal about the way our dog (Phat Lucy) relaxes in our front yard.

Oh, what the neighbors must think!