Well, hello! I’m, back from our annual end-of-summer vacation. As many of you know, I really, really look forward to this time of year. Each year at the end of August, we go up with my family to a little lake house in
Anyway, I was all fired up to bring the proverbial rawk when my brother and his girlfriend had the foresight to actually call the bar and find out which night was karaoke night.
The answer: NEVER.
Apparently, karaoke night was no longer an organized event there; instead it was at the owner’s whim. My brother inquired if this whim would perchance strike during the week and a half that we would be there, and the answer was “no,” as the owner hadn’t felt much like singing lately. Because clearly, he hates joy.
Naturally, my entire family had LOADS of fun with this, insinuating that my abysmal performance the year before was what made them stop karaoke night. I’d have argued, but…well, they may have had a point. Though I was bummed about the situation, I told myself that I wouldn’t let it get in the way of us having fun.
And then my camera got stolen.
Not the big, expensive one, but my beloved little point-and-shoot that I take with me everywhere. We were out at combination mini-golf course/movie theater/ye old tyme ice cream shoppe when it happened. We were all enjoying sundaes when I spotted something so completely awesome that I had to whip out the camera: PRETZEL ICE CREAM CONES. I adore the combination of pretzels and ice cream, and couldn’t believe that someone had thought make an ice cream cone out of them. I snapped the picture, and attempted to replace the camera in my bag whereupon I either: (a) dropped it (doubtful, as I’d have heard it fall) or (b) one of the emo teenage hooligans seated behind us stole it (much more likely). We looked everywhere, but the camera was gone. As were the teens. While I’m annoyed at having to get a new camera, I’m far more upset about the lost pictures and videos. Teenage hooligans! If you’re reading this, I’M NOT MAD AT YOU. You can keep the camera! Just return the memory card to me! Pretty please? I WILL BUY YOU SOME EYELINER AND SKINNY JEANS!
The only other issue we faced was that T refused to sleep in a bed alone (not that I blame him, as he still sleeps in a crib at home), so after a few standoffs, we gave up and just let him sleep with us in our bed. Which begs a question for the co-sleepers of the world: HOW IN THE HELL DO YOU DO IT? Perhaps it’s just my child, but regardless, each night, my sleep was disrupted by T administering swift, yet powerful kicks to many--if not all--of my vital organs in his sleep. He was like a tiny, unconscious ninja. When he wasn’t busy kicking me, I’d hear J yelping in pain as T flung himself about in his sleep, smacking J in the face and kicking him in the stomach and other, more sensitive places that I shan’t mention here, for I am a LADY. (A lady who, in a few moments, will be talking about Really Inappropriate Turtles, but a lady nonetheless.)
One morning, we were so thoroughly exhausted and battered from the nightly pummeling that we didn’t even hear T get up and leave the bedroom. Because, hey! A kid can do that when he's not in a crib! Do you know what else he can do? He can take advantage of his sleeping parents by purposefully and soundlessly sneaking into the kitchen, pushing a chair over to the counter, and climbing up to retrieve a ginormous box of assorted chocolates. He can then scamper off with said box to the living room couch, where he can proceed to devour a shit-ton of chocolate, at which point his parents awake, realize that he's gone, and discover one extremely guilty-looking toddler rapidly shoving a few last pieces into his mouth in a very chipmunk-esque fashion. Long story short: T will be sleeping in his crib until Junior High. The kid cannot be trusted. I mean, really, just look at his expression. I have a feeling he's gonna give me a run for my money.
I don’t mean to sound negative about our trip at all, by the way. Other than the thievery, bruised kidneys and dearth of karaoke, vacation was great: It was J's birthday while we were up there, and I got him the Wii (by which I mean, I got US the Wii), which we've been playing pretty much nonstop. My parents were extremely gracious about babysitting, so we got to go out at night, and we saw TWO MOVIES in one week. That's more than we've seen in the past six months. J got to golf a lot, I found the World's Most Perfect Black Dress...
...and the kids had a fantastic time. Lo was an absolute pleasure; she loved the mountain air and slept beautifully (seriously, this is the only picture I have of her from vacation where she's awake)...
He couldn’t get enough of the nearby train museum…
…or the local zoo.
Yes, intensely alarming signs aside...
...the zoo is fun for the whole gang! Parents, kids…and turtle fetishists alike!
You see, while there, we happened upon turtles involved in The Physical Act of Love (Friends? Anyone?) at the Turtle Town Inn. Mind you, this is not even the first time I’ve seen this, but it was definitely more risqué, as far as turtle lovin’ goes. For one thing, these kinky creatures couldn’t even wait to get inside the Turtle Town Inn before getting down. As we walked closer, we saw that this was no ordinary coupling. It was a TURTLE
And a fourth turtle was WATCHING THE WHOLE THING. Look at him! HE'S TAPING EVERYTHING!
Sinners.We capped off our trip with a family portrait, another one of our vacation traditions. I get a little teary-eyed (in the good way) looking back at the pictures from the past few summers, and seeing how my little family has grown over the past few years.
Even I have to admit; it's a better tradition than karaoke.