Marital Advice Monday *

Nearly a year and a half ago, I wrote this post all about when Andy and I went away for the weekend for our 40th birthdays. It was the first time in our parental life that we had together left the boys for two whole nights in a row. It was heaven. And we haven't done it since...until last Friday night.

News Flash! All that stuff I wrote about spending time away being important for a marriage and a soul? It's still there!  We're in a pretty meh place right now.  Compared to most, we're good and for that, I am eternally grateful.  But the day-to-day of winter/school/marriage/house/vitamin D deficient/job uncertainty/parenting still weighs and wears on us.

Last Friday, we shipped the kids off to Nana's where new toys, undivided attention, and late bedtimes awaited them, while we strolled off to Foxwoods for a 21-hour, anti-family vacation.  There, we didn't have deep discussions about our future; what school districts we need to look at, what needs to be done to our house and our debt ratio before we try and sell.  We didn't discuss the next phase of Andy's career or my education.

We had drinks in our hands within 10 minutes of checking in.  We ate appetizers for dinner at The Hard Rock Cafe.  We people-watched, played nickle slots and roulette, and joked about inconsequential things.  And you know what?  Underneath it all, our smiles are still there. 

And so, here is my advice to you:  Find a willing grandparent, aunt, uncle, friend, or mailman on whom you can foist your beloved children.  Leave extra food out for the cat.  Pack it up and head out of Dodge.  Everything will be there when you get back.  And maybe, just maybe, you'll get your groove back, too.


*title lovingly bastardized from my friend (and BlogHer '09 roomie) KC's hysterical Medical Advice Monday posts.

Roadtrip!

Making our annual pilgrimage to Storyland for one last long summer weekend.

Peace out.

Don't You Forget About Me

When I was a senior in high school, one of the kids in our class organized a spring break trip to Bermuda. I don't know what my parents were thinking but they agreed I could go. I distinctly remember the cost being $510.00 for a full week at the Elbow Beach Hotel. I got my first part-time job as a bank teller to pay for the trip. My boyfriend of two years was already in college but he and most of my best friends' boyfriends also arranged to come with us.

Come April, we boarded a charter flight and headed to what is still one of the best vacations of my life. We ended up in a little two-room suite cabana overlooking the beautiful beach below. Unbeknownst to any of our parents, our room ended up with me, my boyfriend, Stephen, my best friend, Chris, her boyfriend, Pat, my friend Sue, and her boyfriend, Chris. We also had Joe, Chuck, Shelly, Jen, Sean, and half our senior class coming and going as they pleased. Some more than others.

It was an amazing vacation in a fabulous place. We rented mopeds and explored the island. I remember swimming out to dance on a reef to the music of The Bermuda Strollers reggae band as they played on our beach. I remember the tropical fish swimming along the reef that could put Nemo and his friends to shame.

Some nights, we would sit in the piano bar singing along to standards with Sid, the elderly British piano player. And we would drink rum swizzles and mai tais. We would travel between groups of friends, exploring, talking, laughing, and drinking. With this our first shot at legal drinking (18 in Bermuda), you can bet we over-indulged but for the most part, we never got too crazy or did anything too dangerous.

Except for one classmate, Frank, whom everyone had completely lost track of. There were occasional Frank sightings assuring us that he was, in fact, not dead. During one evening's wandering, there was one such siting - as Frank was being thrown out of some girls' room. He could be heard asking "How can I love you if you won't lie down?" And then he was gone. Like Bigfoot.

Fast forward hours or days and Stephen and I find ourselves sound asleep on the pull-out couch in the middle of the night. I awake from a strange dream in which Stephen was sleeping on both sides of me. As I step out of the ether, I realize that there are indeed two people in bed with me. It was Frank! (Near as we can figure, none of us locked the door and Frank, in an attempt to locate home base, had stumbled into our room, found a cozy bed, and snuggled in.) I smack Stephen awake and tell him Frank is in bed with us! Mostly asleep, he opens one eye, says "oh, it's just Frank" and attempts to go back to sleep. Um. No. He's gotta go.

He rouses and agrees to remove our 'guest' from our bed. Frank is not a small guy and he's dead weight so Stephen enlists a sleeping Patrick from the next room. Eventually, they move him out to our patio and throw him across a lounge chair, where he happily spent the remainder of night. We think.

We returned home from Bermuda with only one serious injury (Jen, broken arm - moped accident), nobody pregnant, and our parents none the wiser.

The Ways of the Force

HRH is six. It's been about a year since his Star Wars gene activated. If you've got a young boy in your life, you know of what I speak: All Star Wars, All the Time. I find it fascinating that a movie that filled my husband's and my young heads with dreams of rebel spies, evil Empires and good guys and wookies flying at the light speed would continue to feed my sons' imaginations more than 30 years later.

HRH would catch bits and pieces of the cartoons, the video game (Lego version) supplied by his aunt, and of course, the merchandise. He begged to watch the movie. Andy and I discussed it and concluded that The Wizard of Oz was far more frightening than the original Star Wars. We set about making a fun family movie experience; shades drawn, popcorn, and all. HRH loved it. Let me say it again: HRH LOVED IT!

And a Star (Wars fan) was born.

When we visited Disney last month, we found the Star Tours ride in Disney's Hollywood Studios. Of course, HRH drank it in. But it wasn't until we exited the requisite gift shop that we saw the JEDI TRAINING ACADEMY. It's basically a stage show where young padawans are selected from the audience by a Jedi master and taught the ways of the force. It is at this point that Darth Vader and a few storm troopers arrive on the scene. Naturally, these recently graduated Jedi Knights are called upon to do battle against the dark side.

I don't think HRH blinked during the entire performance. Following it, we were treated to feats of strength, bravery, and Force use never before seen in this galaxy. It was nearing the end of the day and we had unfortunately caught the last show.

We agreed to alter plans and bring the boys back the following day, hoping to get HRH (thankfully, Gremlin was content to simply watch) a place in The Academy. We even bought the Jedi Training Academy sweatshirts hoping to increase our chances during the truly random selection process.

The next morning we arrived on site knowing full well that we were there for the duration. Our entire vacation had come down to this one event. If HRH was selected, it was a success. If not, doom. We made friends with the photographer, we asked her questions, we held our place in the front of the crowd, we had HRH stand a little apart so as to stand out, we made sure he jumped up and down raising his hands when the Jedi Master requested volunteers.

Each time, the show began and HRH was not selected, we sang the same song about how it didn't matter, it was still such fun to watch. All the while, knots are forming in our stomachs and we prayed silently, Please, God. Let him be chosen! After each failed attempt, HRH was stoic and watched in rapt fascination as other children were allowed to learn the ways of the Force.

Finally, at the fourth show of the day, HRH was chosen! Thank you, God! He handled is light saber like a pro and he defeated Lord Vader soundly! His proud and grinning parents were there to witness (and video tape) it as he was handed his Academy Diploma. The sweatshirt a continuing reminder of his courage, bravery, and stature.

The Force was in balance an all was right with this galaxy.

It Could Only Happen in Disney World

Once upon a time, there was a (manic) mommy, a daddy, a big boy, his little brother, and their Gram. They lived in the Kingdom of the Frozen North so the (manic) mommy booked a vacation to the warm and sunny land of Florida, where they could worship at The Altar of The Mouse God. And away they went.

One fine day in sunny (but not too warm) Florida, the family went to the pool at their hotel. Because it was chilly, the (manic) mommy and the gram stayed poolside while the brave and intrepid daddy played in the pool with the big boy and his little brother.

Also out for a swim were a mommy duck and her two little baby ducklings. The mommy duck and the baby ducks meandered slowly around the pool's edge, enchanting the adults and entertaining the children.

A captivated (manic) mommy commented to the delighted gram that much like a human mommy, the ducky mommy would quack to her offspring whenever they wandered too far afield, calling them back. And the ducklings would fall back in a row. The sound of the quacking became the sound of yet another mother on vacation, calling to her children.

Oh, happy family. Oh, happy Mouse God. Oh happy duckies. Until...the quacking became lounder...and more insistent.

A hawk swooped down from the tall trees and snatched one of the poor ducklings from the pool, carrying him off in his talons while all the mommies and daddies, and especially the mommy ducky looked helplessly on.

The mommies and daddies spent some time around the pool that afternoon explaining the harsher aspects of real life to their children: Survival of the Fittest Sucks.

(Disney) World-less Wednesday

We Should Have Asked To See The Wine List

Scene: The Wave restaurant at The Contemporary hotel, Disney World, FL. We are obviously not the target audience for this Sustainable Fish/Biodegradable Straws restaurant. However, we are on the meal plan and they had an opening, so here we are.

Semi-snooty but still nice enough waiter leaves our table after providing us with Disney libations.

HRH: Mom, I think our waiter is really, really important!

MM: Really, Buddy? Why?

HRH: His name tag says "Jesus".

Apropos of Nothing

Daddy: Boys, do you want something to drink?

HRH: Orange juice, with ice, no water, no mix.

MM: HRH, you'll make yourself a fine Starbucks patron some day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the backseat:

Gremlin: This is why the Grinch stole Christmas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Andy: Are you planning on bringing your laptop to Disney?

MM: I was considering it. What do you think?

Andy: Well, you tend not to care about people when you're with the laptop.

MM: No, you've got it all wrong. I care about lots of people when I'm on the laptop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And with that, I bid you all a fond adieu until next week.

America, the Dream Goes On

I was proud of my country today. It felt really nice. I’ve always been pretty patriotic. Fourth of July was always a big deal for us growing up. I’ve felt patriotism – not the “Support-Our-Troops”-yellow ribbon magnet kind of way. The loving-your-country-the way-you-love-your-family kind. Today I was reminded a little bit of why.

On our way home from a family weekend in New Hampshire, we detoured off the anonymous interstate and made a trip down the Kancamangus Highway, a true, hairpin-turning, river-following mountain pass, which leads up and over the White Mountains for 32 miles from Conway to Lincoln, NH. At its beginning you’re already at a pretty good elevation but slowly, those pretty mountain peaks in the distance get closer until they’re beside you and even the clouds are below you.

I was struck by the absolute beauty, the granite outcroppings, the sun’s rays on the sheer cliffs, and the myriad, winding streams begging you to abandon your car and explore. And you want to know what’s really amazing? You can! This area is owned and protected by the National Forest Service and it’s ours! Not for housing, fossil fuels, timeshares, or lumber.

It’s our backyard. And it’s there for exploring; for hiking and biking through hundreds of thousands of square acres. For swimming in mountain stream-fed icy ponds. Or just for driving through. It’s for our animals, too. Every animal to be found in the northeast is there. Did you know we’ve got moose, and bears, deer and foxes, hawks and trout, beavers and bald eagles, and so many more? I didn’t because I don’t pay attention to that stuff.

Thank God someone’s paying attention. And that someone is actually our government. Maybe today it doesn’t seem like a focus, aside from what these areas can do for us (yes, Mr. President; I’m talking to you). But back in 1918, we were smart enough to realize the inherent value of this land and protect it. And some part of our government is still focused on it today. And that makes me proud.

When I got home, I cut our lawn. Because you take care of what’s yours. And maybe, just maybe, that’s my way of helping my American Dream, my Dream of America, go on.

Vacation Moments

HRH: His Royal Halibut...we couldn't keep him out of the water. RC in his Hawaiian Elmo "bagging suit"

My mom and I went out one night and Andy got the boys out of bed to catch a rainbow. I hope you can see it.I can't recommend the Pirate Adventure highly enough for ages 3 to about 7 or 8. Arrr.
Yes, I was wearing a blue golf shirt and khaki shorts also. No, we didn't do this every day. They boys and Andy were a coincidence, then I saw it and decided to geek out and join in. Andy called us the Griswolds.

Bless him, Andy got up every morning around 6:30 with the boys to go fishing. By Wednesday, they had yet to catch anything. He thinks it had less to do with his skills as a fisherman and more to do with the large number of rocks being thrown into the water beside the fishing lines.

At this point, it was time to find a boat. Let me give a shout out to another local, Cap't Danny and Clamneck Charters, who have a very kid-centric 1 1/2 hour catch-and-release fishing trip staying inside Lewis Bay. Each kid must have caught at least a school of porgies.We had a fantatic deck off our bedroom where we were able to set up a telescope and show the boys the moon close up.

I don't think they made it to bed at the correct time the entire week. Vacations are about saying 'yes' more than you normally can.

Maybe they'll be astronauts or astronomers.

Or maybe they'll just remember another family vacation on the Cape.

You Belong To Me

July 15, 2000 Andy and I were married.

He is my best friend, my lover, the best father I could ask for my children, my reward, and the answer to my prayers.

Then we went to Italy:

This is really what Venice looks like from the air, when you're arriving at Marco Polo Airport. I thought I understood a city on canals. I didn't until I saw this.

We walked everywhere in Venice, mostly following our Fodors Guide and getting hopelessly lost.

This is the Grand Canal and it really looks like this.

Everywhere you look is a postcard waiting to be shot.

When my sister, Danni and I were tweens, we stayed up late one night when my parents were out watching a movie called A Little Romance about an American girl and French boy who run away to Venice. They were told by an old man (Sir Laurence Oliver) that if you kissed under the Bridge of Sighs that your love would last forever.

Andy and I kissed under the Bridge during a gondola ride.





Happy Anniversary, Babe. I wouldn't change a minute.

**Except maybe for that labor and delivery part.

Sensing a Theme?

Drink:
Cape Codder

Ingredients:
1 1/2 oz Vodka
3 oz Cranberry Juice
1 Wedge Lime

Mixing Instructions:
Pour Vodka and Cranberry Juice into a High Ball glass over ice.
Stir well
Add the wedge of lime
Serve

*with thanks to The Webtender

Who Needs BlogHer?

When you've got Old Cape Cod?

You Really Want to Stick with that Story?

Mess-Free, meet RC.

A Clown of a Different Color

My sister and I were discussing not liking having the scary clown pictures front and center when you opened my blog - rather off-putting. In its place, I give you RC on the merry-go-round:

Told you he had a slightly different slant on things.

Seasons Change

That Kintner Boy

Andy bought a boat last year. More precisely, he bought the hull of a boat, then he bought the remaining parts like say the engine, transmission, wiring harness (yes, I know what that is now) on eBay and Craigslist. He spent many cold evenings out in the garage over the past year putting it all together and this past Sunday, all his hard work paid off: He and our neighbor, that's him in the picture, successfully launched That Kintner Boy! And didn't sink!

Andy is beside himself with glee. I think I could ask him for anything - (just off the top of my head, of course) a new livingroom set, a Honda Pilot, a third child, a girls' night away - and he would give it to me. And this Saturday, the boat is going to pay off for me too!!

I wrote a post a while back about missing my friend, Chris and the fun our little gang of four used to have. After reading this post by Bossy, was inspired to contact them and say 'Okay, enough's enough. When are we getting together?' God was with us and this weekend, we're going to Wendy's cottage for an overnight!! No kids, no spouses, just lots of high calorie food, adult beverages, and uninterrupted conversation!!

Chris is the problem child in this equation so we're hard at work on Plan B. This may or may not involve slowing the SUV, opening the door, and grabbing her. I can roughly find where her sister-in-law lives so we can drop the kids on the way. I think it's a solid plan.

So, thank you, Andy. Thank you, Bossy. And thank you, Alex Kintner.

As American as Baseball and Margaritas

I've got a mixed (but mostly positive) review about Jimmy Buffett's Labor Day Weekend Show this past Sunday.

If you've never been to a Buffett concert, it's important to note that the pre-concert tailgate is like NOTHING you've ever seen before. It truly is a one-day vacation. As one friend put it years ago, you're as likely to see Volvos and minivans as you are to see beaters and just as likely to smell cigar smoke as marijuana smoke. The age of the crowd varies widely. Just in our group, the oldest was closing in on 60 and the youngest was 26. Lots of people bring their kids. We opt not. So here was my day:

For starters, I made sure I was dressed appropriately:Many, many positive comments on the t-shirt and I was quick to give you full credit, Kristen.

We met up at my brother's house, where he informed us that he had a friend from work coming on an extra ticket. Turns out the co-worker is one of my very best friends that I've known since I was a freshman in high school. This made my whole day. And the more I drank, the happier I was he was there.We hit the parking lot around 12:00 noon for an 8:00 pm show - and the lot we were in closed shortly after we arrived. It's an all-day affair and we're veterans, so we come prepared for every eventuality. Delightful.

In past years, the show has been at Great Woods/The Tweeter Center in Mansfield, MA. This is a terrific venue with lawn seats, a pavillion, and a huge parking lot. The rules are pretty relaxed on Buffett days regarding open containers so you can spend a good chunk of the day wandering and drinking/drinking and wandering.

This year, it was at Gillette Stadium , so people-watching involves moving between parking lots by way of Rte 1. FYI: Mass State Police: less relaxed than the aforementioned Tweeter Security but still great guys considering.

All that being said, I still did manage to see a lot of people and things and meet some new friends as well.

After this point, I stopped carrying my cell phone and camera. So, luckily, there are few recorded images of me (thank God). My friend, David will also say amen that I haven't posted his pirate pictures. I do wish I had a picture of that 24-year-old I was dancing with at to Fins. Hmph.

The concert itself was good. I don't know if it was up to usual standards. While Gillette is great place to watch The Patriots in my opinion, it lacks the intimacy most conducive to a full Buffett experience. Maybe it was too big for Jimmy as well. He seemed a bit off.

I'll take an okay Jimmy Buffett concert over a day of laundry and dishes any day. When you're at Buffett, everyone's 22 without a care in the world - at least for a few hours. And that's about how long I like it.

PTVD - Post Traumatic Vacation Disorder

Favorite vacation moments (in no particular order):

• Going back into the water just me and HRH even after I was really all set with swimming. He was so happy, I even got an unsolicited kiss blown to me.
• Having Roger Clemens doze on my lap while I was sitting in the water in an innertube. My sister-in-law commented that it was like he was back in the womb. It felt like that for me too. Like I had him all to myself again; heartbeat to heartbeat.
• Sitting in a harborside restaurant with just my husband, talking uninterrupted and realizing we have plenty to talk about - and that we like each other.

The good news: We spent a HOT and SUNNY week on Cape Cod.
The bad news: The place we rented last year with central A/C was already booked for our week.

The good news: The place we ended up renting allows dogs.
The bad news: The place we rented smells like it allows dogs.

The good news: HRH can be a wonderful big brother when called upon! He and RC were sharing a bedroom and his little brother was truly frightened about sleeping in the pack-and-play away from his own crib in his Make Way for Ducklings bedroom. We decided to give them a few minutes to see if RC would settle down. HRH kept saying "don't worry, buddy. I'm right here." over and over again to soothe his baby brother.
The bad news: Whenever RC had been quiet for a few minutes (nodding off perhaps?) HRH would say it L.O.U.D.E.R.

The good news: I did not cook for an entire week.

The bad news: There really is no bad news here.

The bad news: The vacation's over and now it feels like the summer nearly is too.
The good news: We were all ready to be home and home is a pretty nice place to be.*

* Except for the laundry - and the cooking. But no dog smell!