Post from the Road: South Carolina

We're at the South Carolina welcome center, which is confoundedly in the middle of the state.

Here they have Liberty Garden, a 9/11 memorial, and one of the first in the country. Four quotations about liberty and American spirit ring a central fountain.

The girls wanted to toss in pennies and make a wish, so Hubby handed out coins.

He came over to me after the Fries made their wishes, and handed me a penny. "In case you wanted to make a wish," he said.

I took the penny.

Hubby went on, "Large Fry wished that our family would stay together forever and ever. Medium wished for our family to stay together forever. Small wished for a turtle."

I couldn't help but chuckle.

My wish?

I'm so glad you asked.

This was my wish:

"As long as the United States of America is determined and strong, this will not be an age of terror. This will be an age of liberty, here and across the world." -George W. Bush

I wished that we would always be a beacon of hope and liberty.

VBS results

So, VBS wrapped up tonight.

Of course, the kids were challenged to raise money again, with increasing rewards.

If they raised $200, they got a picnic.

If they raised $300, they got a picnic AND a bouncy castle.

If they raised $400, they'd get a picnic with a bouncy castle, AND a dunk tank with King D (this year's emcee) on the hot seat.

And if they raised $500 (all the proceeds go to a local charity)...they'd get the picnic, bouncy castle, dunk the king dunk tank, AND get to both pie Hubby in the face and green-slime him.

As of last night, their offering total was a paltry $176.

There's just no way, Hubby thought. No way.

The total tonight?

$596.

Five hundred ninety-six dollars!

Never let it be said that the kids at our church don't love their youth pastor...or love getting to cream him.

Five hundred ninety-six bucks.

By the way, Hubby gave each of the Fries $10 in support of the cause.

So far today...

*I've gotten dressed one and a half times.

* I forgot to eat breakfast.

*I did summer "school" with the kids.  Oh, the agony.  Large Fry had each of her worksheets explained to her, and then didn't do two of them right anyway...mostly because she didn't remember what I said and didn't read the directions herself.  My mother assures me this will help the kids to not lose what we've spent nine months cramming into their ears.  I think it will assure me either a sainthood or a room with rubber wallpaper.

*The neighbors are having a new roof put on their house.  I've been listening to the hydraulic nail gun all day.

*Cleaned up where one of four feline suspects anointed the basement floor—one step out from the bottom of the stairs—with pee.  After stepping in it, of course, and getting the bottoms of my jeans wet.  (There's your .5 dressed thing, if you were wondering.)  Darn it, I put up the Feliway diffuser in the basement last night!

*I washed a load of clothes.

*I am not thinking about the four loads of clothes I now have to fold.

*Fixed lunch.  Making PBJ sandwiches is always a challenge when you can't really move your wrist.

*Made Large Fry redo the worksheet that she did totally wrong.

*Put wash in the dryer, and started another load.

*Mediated dispute over Small Fry pretending to cut down a tree in the yard with a "big stick" (*gasp* Stick? That's rebar!) and smacking Medium Fry in the head.  I took them outside to have them show me what on earth happened.  Small was taking the rebar to the tree and smacking the heck out of it to "cut" it down.  More rebar was on the ground, covered by the mower shield, and various other things the kids had kiped for playthings...all of which were NOT playthings...when they have plenty of toys...and all but one or two had been taken out of the shed.  Which Hubby explicitly told ALL of them, just the other day, that they were NOT to take things out of the shed and play with them.

*Ordered them to put all the stuff away, and reminded them of what Daddy had said.  And then I warned that consequences would be swift if I caught them doing it again when they all knew the shed was off-limits for turning its contents into playthings.  (Golly, we need a new shed that has better doors, but those things are freaking expensive!)

*I came back inside, only to have the kids follow.

*Ordered the kids outside to play because they were griping, only to have them all come back inside within five minutes, complaining of various ailments for why they couldn't go outside.

*Remembered I needed to start another load, find a printable chart for Large Fry, and try to see if I could make my old mp3 player work, because my current one died a spectacular death last night.  "One too many hits with the snake..."

*Got distracted due to mediation again.  Hubby called mid-mediation.

*Found an acceptable chart.  Printed two copies.

*Hooray!  The radiology office finally called to schedule my MRI!  Suck a duck...I can't get in until 6/24 because of our summer schedule.

*Started another load of laundry.  Mediated again.

*Forgot to go find my old Fuze.  I think I'll do that now.

*Nope, wait.  Going to shout at Large Fry for demanding she get a turn RIGHT NOW on Daddy's old tablet...which Medium has been using all of three minutes.

*NOW I'll go look for my old Fuze.

*sigh*  When does VBS start today?

School's out!

Yesterday was our last day of school here, all two and a half hours of it.

I was very surprised when Hubby came home around noon, since I know he's got a lot of work to do this week before we leave at week's end for vacation.  Plus, it's VBS week at church, and he's emceeing, teaching a class, and serving as motivation for the kids to raise $500 in offering (to go to a local charity): the kids will have a picnic, bounce house...and a dunk tank.

My understanding is that the kids immediately started chanting to dunk Hubby.  (You might remember last year's reward.)

Innyhoo...Hubby came home to see if we'd like to go out to lunch to celebrate the end of the school year.  I jumped all over that; my wrist is still in constant pain, and the thought of making sandwiches made me whimper.

So, out we went.  We could either go to our favorite local eatery, or go fast food, because they'd be about the same price, honestly.

We opted for our favorite place.  We're friendly with the owners, and the food is good.

They have this one waitress during the school year who looks remarkably like my cousin.  I was a little disappointed that she wasn't working yesterday.

And, it seemed, they'd hired someone new.

We've seen this guy there before, as a patron, or a friend just dropping by.

You really can't miss him.

He's got tattoos.  Lots of them.  On his arms.  On his neck.  On his face.  On his scalp, with his hair buzzed short on the sides of his head (giving him a long, flowing Mohawk) so that you can see the ink there.

And, the pièce de résistance, a spike through his septum that tapers at both ends.

There was a quiet conversation about not staring.

It was toward the end of our meal, with the kids doing a pretty decent job of not staring too much and Medium being a tad afraid of this guy, that Large Fry observed, "Maybe he has that 'cause his nose is running, and that thing makes it not run anymore."

Hubby had to muffle his chuckle.

8 P.M.

I am quite enjoying my night, I tell you.  It's cool enough outside that I don't have the a/c on, just the ceiling fan and the back door open.  Gentle but steady rain is falling.  I'm watching Criminal Minds.

I'm alone.

I'm an introvert, and solitude is essential.  With school ending tomorrow just before noon, it's going to be a very long time before I can find any kind of solitude outside of the crowded anonymity of the grocery store.

So I was cherishing it.

Small Fry's fever broke, and she's been slightly subdued, but not lethargic like she was yesterday.  She didn't go to school today, but she did go to VBS tonight.

And that's when the phone rang, just as a new episode of CM was starting.

It's Hubby.  "Where are you?"

"In the den, watching Criminal Minds."

"Oh, good.  I'm bringing home a sick kid."

Crap.

"Which one?"

"Large Fry."

"What happened?"

"She's been lethargic.  And they said she threw up a couple times."

Double crap.

I love my kids, but I hate vomit, and being around anyone engaged in that particular activity tends to trigger my own overly-sensitive gag reflex.

And poor Large Fry...she inherited a queasy gizzard, and is the one who will throw up, er, ad nauseum, even when the other two don't, and they all have the same bug.  Her gyro is also pretty sensitive, so she's really sensitive to motion as well.  (Why, yes, we keep Dramamine or Bonine in the van at all times.)

Large kinda moped into the house, and I sent her upstairs to change into her jammies.  When she bent over the toilet, I realized this wasn't going to be done any time soon.  Change of plans.  Back to the den, rather than sending her to bed, so I'm not going up two floors and back down every time the icks attack.

So far, Medium says she feels fine.

I hope.

Either way, let's get it out of the way before the end of the week, when we leave on vacation.

I'm also hoping that Large's tummy has settled.  She woke up out of a sound sleep twice because her stomach heaved.

My poor girl.

Oh, of course.

The alarm rang at an ugly hour this morning.

It always does on Sundays.

When you only have one vehicle and your husband is the youth/worship pastor and has to be at church before 8a, everybody goes for both services.  Even if the church is only a mile away.  And especially when you are now completely gimped-out on your right side and can barely brush your own hair, let alone your kids'.

Innyhoo...

I didn't sleep well last night, so the alarm's announcement of a new day made me slap the snooze button several times.  Even then, I didn't want to get up.  I felt like someone had smacked me in the head with a heavy mallet, and my wrist ached.  However...must soldier on.  I'm not sick.  I can suck it up.  I'm a big girl.

Hubby went down the hall to wake the Fries while I did my morning constitutional and put in my contacts.

When he came back into our room, he said, "Small Fry seems really warm.  She gave me a hug when I woke her up, and her skin was hot.  Do we have a thermometer up here?"

Of course not.  That would make sense.  I went downstairs for the thermometer.

Small Fry was indeed toasty.  Too toasty.  The thermometer beeped at 99.5, which I knew was at least a degree off.  Our temporal thermometer has to hit just the right spot, so it's a trifle finicky, but it beats trying to make my kids hold a digital one under their tongues for a minute.  Small rolled over, and I checked the other side of her forehead.  100.5...allrightythen.  We're not going to church.  I wanted to sleep more, but not because for this reason!

There's two days of school left.

Vacation Bible School is this week.

We leave for vacation later this week.

Of course she's sick.

Hubby, Large, and Medium went to church.  Small and I went back to sleep, finally coming downstairs about 11.  Her fever was way down, thanks to the ibuprofen I'd given her when I took her temp, but she was obviously not feeling well.  She just collapsed on the couch.

When Hubby got home from church with lunch, she didn't eat much.  She drank her juice and that was it.

I still felt awful, and my head still hurt, so I went up to take a nap.  I didn't realize that Small had also gone upstairs to bed until Hubby woke me around 4:30 to say that he and the two older Fries were leaving early for Vacation Bible School.  She was still asleep, in fact.

My poor baby.

She came in to the bedroom with me, and proceeded to doze off and on for about an hour before we went back downstairs.

Her fever was up again, so more ibuprofen.  And we watched SeaWorld Shamu videos.  And Brave.  In fact, we didn't get all the way through that one.  Almost right at 8p, she asked me to stop the movie, turn off the overhead fan, cover her with a blanket, turn off the light, and turn the TV to the light classical music channel.

I really hope she feels better in the morning.

An Actual Conversation

Last year, I made a summer-wear decision: one-piece bathing suits are no longer as easily wrestled with, and are enough to drive you crazy in too-small public bathroom stalls.  Further, they may well be tools of de Debbil, and as such should now be avoided.  At least, for beach- and vacation-wear.

Enter the tankini.

And earlier this week, in anticipation of our upcoming vacation, I ordered another top to go with the pieces I'd picked up last fall (two bottoms and a top).  That package arrived today.

Now, I told you that, so I could tell you this.*

Hubby [taps box]: What's that?

Me: Bathing suit top.

Hubby: You're going to wear a bikini?

Me [opening package]: No.

Hubby: Then what?

Me: A tankini.

Hubby: Really?

Me: I got tired of messing with one-piece suits.

I pulled out the suit top to show him...and Large Fry, who was snuggling next to him on the couch.

Large Fry [as I'm heading out the door]: Mommy, are you going to change down here?

Me: No, I'm going to go upstairs to my room.

Large: Good. No one wants to see your nipples.

[And that was the last thing I heard, until about ten minutes ago.]

Hubby [obviously not thinking]: Well, I do.

Large: Why do you want to see her nipples?

Hubby [mentally scrambling]: Well, men are strange that way.

Large: Why? Mommy's are big.

Hubby: Yes, I know. [pause] But do me a favor; let's not talk about nipples with other people.  It's okay to talk about nipples with Mommy and Daddy...but not other people.

Large [lifts shirt]: Wanna see my nipples?

Hubby: No, I don't wanna see yours.

Large: Mine aren't grown up yet.  Someday they'll be grown up.

Hubby [probably barely controlling his laughter]: Yes...you're right.


*Oh, hey, Dad?  This one probably should've had the hernia mesh warning and the TMI warning.  Sorry.