the pieces of my life

We’re still a family of four. It was touch and go there for a while with Pie. There was a real chance she was going to be voted off the island. But apparently she got the immunity idol and we’re all still here.

At the moment, Adam and the kids are swimming in the hotel’s indoor pool. I decided to hang out and rest.

Doodles: Mom! You should really come with us.

Adam: Let Mommy hang out and relax.

Doodles: No, she should come! You know she didn’t go running today and can really use the exercise.

Even my own son. We’re doing a ton of walking so I am taking a break from running, hoping it’ll recharge me and help my foot. Although the walking is aggravating it a bit.

Aside from a few temper tantrums, we’re having a lovely time, and Canadians are apparently used to American tourists. (As I posted on Facebook: “We have met the Ugly American Tourist and he is us.” To which my clever friend Jen wrote, “Us too! Ruining Canada one province at a time.”)

But smoked meat sandwiches from Schwartz’s and chocolate crepes and copious amounts of lemonade have kept us all going. Two places we really wanted to go–the Biodome and the Insectarium–are closed because of labor disputes, but we’ve still seen plenty so far: the science museum, old Montreal, the Biosphere, taken a bateau mouche, visited a church.

We still have an arg museum in us for today and tomorrow is anyone’s guess. The kids are hoping to ice skate.

And now a quick nap before les enfants terribles return. Au voir.

I actually tried posting last night, but the WordPress app ate my post.

Day one of vacation was a success. Breakfast with the in-laws at Rye. Then, over the protests of my children who declared they hate farms, we spent a couple of hours at Billings Farm, where we had to tear Pie away from the milking of the cows. Doodles helped make ice cream the old-fashioned way but didn’t want to eat any because “homemade ice cream isn’t that good.” A small cone of it convinced him otherwise. (Note: I believe I have the photo blog–linked on the right–working again.)

Adam went to college up here, so in theory, this is his neck of the woods. We went to dinner at an Italian place I remembered and liked. At the end, I said, “Should we get dessert here?”

Adam: Let’s go into Hanover. We can get dessert at the Dirt Cowboy Cafe.

Doodles: I want dessert here!

Pie: Yeah!

Adam: You don’t want yummy ice cream? Or cookies?

Kids: Yeah! Let’s go!

Me: Um, it’s seven o’clock in Hanover, New Hampshire. Are you sure it’s going to be open?

Adam: Definitely! The Dirt Cowboy is always open late!

So back in downtown Hanover, as we’re off in search of Ben & Jerry’s (“What?? It closes at six o’clock every night? Since when?”), my daughter is off with her normal stream-of-concious drones when she stops us with “Do you get to take toys with you when you go to juvie?” I’m particularly fond of the use of “when” instead of “if.” Doesn’t bode well for our future.

This a.m. we had breakfast at the Four Aces and then we debated what to do next. Adam asked the kids, “Do you want to see a Hollywood photography show?”

Doodles squealed, “Yes!!!” The boy is completely Hollywood/acting obsessed.

I asked, “Are you sure it’s open? A lot of museums are closed on Mondays.”

Adam said, “It’s always open. We’ll spend an hour there and then head for the Ben & Jerry’s factory and then Montreal.”

I don’t need to finish this story, do I? At least while we were back in Hanover the kids got new Dartmouth shirts to replace the ones they’ve outgrown. Although try as I could, I could not convince Doodles to get a Thing One Dartmouth shirt (Pie was completely on board with Thing Two; Dr. Seuss went to Dartmouth, which is the relevancy).

And now we’re on our way to the Ben & Jerry’s factory. Then onward to Canada. Hope Canada has ear plugs.

Pie: We’re almost there!
Me: Almost, but we’re not too far.
Pie: I know we’re almost there be because when the roads get smaller, it means you’re getting close. … Hey! Houses! I didn’t know people lived in Vermont!

Adam got a new car. I may have mentioned this. Who can remember? His old Camry was a hand-me-down from my grandmother (it was his second from her). The Pimpmobile, so named for the gold-rimmed tires and the windows that were tinted to levels that are actually illegal in Massachusetts. He loves his fancy-shmancy new car. The GPS. The keyless start. The seats that remember who you are. That clean, nice new car smell.

He’s become a little obsessive about his car. And he declared the car a no-eating zone.

But then it became time for our vacation. And he was clearly torn. Pretty new car for hours on the road? Or slimey dirty kids in his new car for hours on the road? What to do? Old minivan? Or shiny happy car?

Car lust won. And I’m loving the look of horror on his face every time the kids open a new bag of peanut-butter crackers. Plus the kids found Radio Disney on the satellite radio. That’ll teach Adam not to have nice things!

(posting caveat: posts for the next few days are all being done on my iPhone so there may be more typos than usual.)

As you no doubt remember from our last camping trip, just two blog posts ago, that we were woefully underprepared. Adam decided to make up for it. All of a sudden, Thermarests appeared. A new sleeping bag. A camping stove. (Do we need a camping stove? No. The camping stove is going back.) Bungee cords. Fire starter. A fancy lighter.

Labeled in 1982 by my mom

My sleeping bag is old school. I mean the “old” literally (damn! I cannot let go of “literally!). As I’ve mentioned before, my sleeping bag was once the Tweedle Twirp’s. She got it when she went to sleepaway camp in, I think, 1982. My mom labeled it–see there in the picture? Those Sharpies really last! It’s a big bulky sleeping bag, but it’s served me well over the years. I inherited the sleeping bag in 1994 when I spent that three months driving from Miami to Seattle. I took the sleeping bag in anticipation of youth hostels, which never had linens.  It was fortuitous that I had it, because halfway through the trip, I decided to start camping. I met a guy in Texas who was game to come with me for the rest of the ride, so I bought a tent and we camped our way through the western United States. I spent hours in the REI picking it out, asking the most basic of questions, as I had never camped before (other than the ill-fated seventh grade camp out in junior high). Supposedly it was a four-season tent. As my traveling companion pointed out, it was actually a two-season tent: too-fucking hot and too-fucking cold. That sleeping bag served me well on those “too-fucking cold” nights in the desert.

Mama Bear with the Baby Bears

We bought the kids sleeping bags off of Woot. They are lovely sleeping bags and much sleeker and modern than what I have. I have the Mama Bear to their Baby Bear sleeping bags. Although the original analogy I thought of was that my sleeping bag is like briefs to their thongs. The new bags are mummy types and they fold up small and they’re warm and toasty enough that the kids have yet to sleep in them because they kick them off for being too hot.

So when Adam said he was hitting EMS during his lunch hour to buy his new sleeping bag, I knew that my big honkin’ sleeping bag was going to feel antiquated. Huge. Old. Bulky. But I can handle that because in my newfound desire to be more ecologically aware, I’m excited to have something that has stood the test of time and that will still be with me for at least another decade or two. My sleeping bag is practical and comfy and just fine. Adam is all about the latest, newest. He’s an early adapter to the extreme when I don’t put the kibosh on it.

So he came home with his sleeping bag. And all I could say was, “Wow.” He bought… a sleeping bag. And what a sleeping bag it is. It is a sleeping bag that makes a statement. And what, you might ask, is that statement? The statement is, “I will never go back country camping.” Or perhaps it’s “I will never spend the night in a desert campground.” Or could it be, “I’m just pretending that I like to camp.” The thing is huge. The thing is rated only to 35 degrees (“What? It’s not like we’re going to winter camp!” ). It is the Papa Bear bag, that’s for sure. It makes my “briefs” sleeping bag look like cute boy shorts.

If my sleeping bag are briefs, Adam's is clearly a full-body girdle.

Well, at least we have everything we need to go camping. Even if it means we’ll never leave the car behind. Of course, we’re all done camping for this year. So his high-maintenance sleeping bag (“Don’t store in a stuff sack. Hang flat”) will sit (in its sack) in the attic till next summer. I’m thinking about a camping trip. In Denali National Park.

I stink. I mean this in the most literal of ways (and for you, Dawn, I’ll add, “and I don’t say ‘literal’ lightly!”). You walk into our lovely, more or less clean house, and breathe in the freshness. Then, as you make your way upstairs, you’ll notice this dank, disgusting smell. It was stuffy. And gross. And it didn’t take me long to realize… it was my running clothes.

As you may or may not know, Pie has an extreme aversion to sweat and refuses to come near anyone when they are the least bit sweaty. She nearly had a conniption when she realized that Adam put her to bed post-boxing class but pre-shower. True, he was no longer actually sweaty. But the mere thought that sweat had once been on his body was enough to repel her. She won’t come near me once I’m in my running clothes even if I have not yet gone on my run. “After you shower,” is her refrain.

And smelling our upstairs, I sort of get it now. It’s not tough. It’s not sexy. It’s smelly. Yuck. I thought of putting the clothes directly into the basement where the washer is, but then the basement would be smelly. I don’t want to wash each set of running clothes individually, because that would be a waste of water. Besides, as is well documented, I don’t do laundry. (The one time I did–I think I was washing sheets for guests who were coming over–Adam looked at me with the basket of laundry and said, “So you do know where the washer and dryer are!” My parents like to feel they are innocent of all the childhood crimes inflicted upon me–my father insists all our family moves only made me stronger–but no one can deny that my parents traumatized me in the laundry department. I hated doing the family laundry so much, I took to hiding everyone’s clothes in my bottom dresser drawer so I didn’t have to fold them. This went on a while before people started realizing that their underwear piles were diminishing.)

Pie "built" a fairy house in an Audubon Park as part as an eco-art program. And by "build" I mean, she directed me on what to do, so she wouldn't get dirty. Or sweaty.

So now I shower with my gym clothes. I take them in the shower with me and try to rinse them with water. The bathroom is littered with drying gym clothes as well as various swimming paraphernalia. It’s charming. But considering that it’s been 90 percent humidity and I walk in from even my not-so-long runs literally (there I go again! But you know I mean it!) dripping with sweat, it’s necessary (seriously–some folks get these cute little patches of sweat; my clothes are drenched. I’ve actually been asked if I jumped into the reservoir or something because the sweat is dripping off of me. Boy, I’m painting a lovely picture for you guys, aren’t I? I hope you’re not reading this with your breakfast. If you are, sorry!).

I also stink in a figurative way (please hold off on the “duhs,” folks!). I know I haven’t been posting much. My nice relaxing summer is slipping away and in its place is this psychotic, over scheduled summer that consists of me constantly yelling at the kids, “Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” As of this morning, I have officially given up giving up caffeine. (That sentence is correct. Just read it again.) We’ll see if that improves things or makes it worse. Here’s a random sampling of some of the summer activities we’ve been doing:

Pie: swimming classes, piano lessons, dance camp, preschool camp, Kindergarten Connections (get togethers with other future kindergartners at her school), lots of trips to the library for more Rainbow Magic books (ugh!!) and the summer reading program, building fairy houses at an Audubon park, playdates

It was Pirate Week at Doodles's theater camp, and he made a papier mache parrot, learned pirate songs, and acted in a pirate play.

Doodles: swimming classes, drum lessons, robotics camp, invention camp, baseball camp (not a hit–he’s skipping the last day as it’s “boring”), theater camp (huge hit–he’ll be doing another week later this summer), lots of trips to the library for more books on the interest du jour (it’s been the Revolutionary War, wizards, acting, and the latest is Geronimo Stilton books, karate, and Japan) and the summer reading program

Me: chauffeuring, swimming lessons (yes, for me–I’m taking an advanced stroke techniques class as I’m determined to finally learn to the butterfly and perfect my crawl; who knows? There might be a tri in my future), marathon training, chauffeuring, a pilates/yoga class, working on a program at our synagogue, chauffeuring, trying to finish up the third draft of my novel (could I be close to done?), gardening, chauffeuring, waiting for the appliance repairman (the oven still isn’t fixed!), chauffeuring

Adam: Um, I’m actually not sure what Adam has been doing. I know he goes boxing and takes piano lessons. And he shaved his winter beard. But other than that, you’d have to ask his Blackberry what he’s been up to.

No taxation without representation!

As a family: trips to the Reservoir and the outdoor pool at the Y, a Boston Tea Party re-enactment on a lovely sailboat, camping, my parents in town, going to see Toy Story 3, our neighborhood 4th of July bike parade, our 4th of July BBQ

Adam and I have been managing to get out a little bit. We had an awesome date last week–I found a program through Audubon (I’m really trying to take advantage of our membership!) that was canoeing on the Charles River, followed by dinner. There were two other couples and three guides. We paddled on the river for an hour and then stopped to have a catered dinner by the side of the river. Delicious dinner in a lovely setting, and then we paddled more. Our paddling got cut short by thunder and lightening, but it just gave us an excuse to stop off for a drink on our way home, as we had the babysitter for a while longer. Finding a place to drink isn’t always easy in this part of the world, but Adam remembered that a hotel that his company had been to for an off-site was just off the highway so we stopped at the bar there. Oy! We were in our canoeing clothes amidst a sea of Boston’s version of Bridge and Tunnel. We found a corner, had a nice drink, and then ran into friends who joined us. It was an actual grown-up evening! And we’re scheduled to have another grown-up evening next week! Pigs are flying somewhere.

Normally, I’d scour this entry and look for ways to make it more interesting and witty, but the kids are antsy–we’re headed off to the MFA today–and if I don’t post something soon, my father will begin the harassing phone calls. And I wanted you to know why I stink, both literally and figuratively. If the next month of summer is anything like the first (has it only been one month since school ended? Yikes!), you’ll understand why the posts may be sparse. We still have more camping, a summer vacation, canoeing for Doodles, a family Insects and Ice Cream event, fencing for Doodles, a girls’ night out for me, a visit from the Tweedle Twirp and a visit from the Peter, birthday parties to attend and birthday parties to plan, more preschool camp for Pie, an animation class for Doodles…. I still haven’t figured out the WordPress/iPhone thing, but if I do, maybe I can post a bit more. But if not, happy summer! (Just six and a half weeks till school starts again. Just six and a half weeks till school starts again. Just six and a half weeks till school starts again…. Deep breaths….)

We made it back. All in one piece. Oh, you didn’t know we were gone? Disney World! I have to say, it was a really great Disney adventure, and I was truly sorry to come back. I think that Disney is one of those places where you either go as a stick-in-the mud “I hate this bullshit” attitude or you just suck it up and drink the Kool Aid. And you all remember the family motto. I sucked it up. I drank that Kool Aid and I asked for seconds!

I’m truly tired and don’t think I can blog everything at this moment, so I’ll hopefully add more later, but it was an excellent trip. But a few of the highlights, which may be repeats for those who are Facebook friends:

–The trip started a little ominously when we checked in at home for our JetBlue flight and then brought our bags to drop off. Now, we usually fly American. We’re used to this drill. With American we usually drop our bags at curbside or head to a kiosk. JetBlue? Not so much. The line for bag drop stretched longer than the hour and ten minutes we had till our flight. In a panic, we decided to take our bags on the flight. Only of course we had packed all our toiletries and TSA decided to be sticklers on the gels over 3.5 ounces or whatever the ridiculous rule is. Out went Adam’s hair gel, out went my shampoo, out went my $40 face cleaner (that sounds much better if you read it to the tune of “Rock Island” from Music Man. Here, I’ll even give you the next line: Look whatayatalk. whatayatalk, whatayatalk, whatayataalk, whatayatalk?). And then, of course, the TVs on the flight weren’t working. Fun times!

–Our family was following the certified, patent-pending Goldfarb System®. I don’t want to give too much of the system away, but it is a fool-proof method for doing the Disney parks in the most efficient and line-preventing way. I will testify that the Goldfarb System® works. But… only if you follow it to the T. The first day I got cocky. I thought I could figure out a few shortcuts to the Goldfarb System®. But I was wrong. And I paid in a big way, with a screaming daughter and a son who waited in line for thirty minutes for the Astro Orbiter. The next day I followed the plan to the letter and had an immensely successful day. Day three, we had the system perfected to the point where my son had a mere five minute wait for Toy Story Mania, got to ride Star Tours… twice, and still got to have another go at the Buzz Lightyear ride. Yes, the system is that good.

–We had characters up the wazoo. First Pie met Cinderella, Belle, and Aurora in Toon Town. Then we had breakfast with Cinderella, Belle, Aurora, Ariel, and Snow White. Then another breakfast with JoJo, Goliath (from JoJo’s Circus) and Leo and June (from Little Einsteins). Then dinner with Chip and Dale, Mickey and Pluto. Plus we ran into Goofy, Daisy, Donald Duck, and Minnie around the parks. We also caught glimpses of a whole bunch others. But that girl of mine, she can hold a grudge. Our final dinner, at the Garden Grille in The Land, Dale, Mickey, and Pluto came to our table. But not Chip. “When is Chip coming? I want to see Chip!” She would not be put off. “There’s Chip! Why isn’t he coming to see us?” Finally we left without Chip. She shook hands with Pluto, flirted with Mickey, had her picture taken with Dale. So I asked, “How did you like dinner?” “It was awful!” she told me. “Chip never came to see us.”

–Most exciting thing for girl? When Belle noticed that her skirt had “Beast print” on it. (Why more about the girl than the boy? Because for much of the trip we split up and I spent most of my time with the girl)

–New form of torture? My mother and daughter singing “It’s a Small World” over and over and over and over… and over and over and over… (deep breath) and over and over and over. And then not understanding why I wanted them to stop.

–The Wishes fireworks display was only a mild hit. I let Pie stay up late to watch it; Doodles decided to pass. We went with the Nana to watch the display over Cinderella’s castle. Pie seemed to be into it, but later informed us, “I didn’t like it. The booms made my teeth shake.”

–At the princess breakfast, you walk in and the first thing that happens is a picture with Belle that the family gets a copy of by the end of breakfast.
Me: I want a family picture with Belle.
Pie: I want to stand between Mommy and Belle!
Doodles: I want to stand between Daddy and the wall.

I’m sure I’ll have more to say later. Or maybe I won’t. That’s the way these blogs fly. Now I gotta go have another swig of Kool Aid. Mmm, that’s good!

The boy definitely had fun. Maybe too much fun. He's absolutely walking funny and it occurs to us it's been hours since he peed. Oops…