Icy roads, Speedy kids, and Frostbite

Well, at this point almost everyone knows we're in Canada, eh? 

It's the second time this year we've made our way to the Great White North to stay in the picturesque town of Mont Tremblant. 

The first time we visited was back in February.  We did a lot of the same things almost 10 months ago; however, this time around it's a good 30+ degrees colder.

I always assumed that cold was cold.  I figured that once you reached a certain degree of coldness, you just can't get any colder.  It's kind of like when you start eating one day and just can't stop.  By 2 pm you figure you've already blown your daily recommended caloric intake out of the water, so you might as well just keep eating whatever you want for the rest of day.  It's like the additional calories just don't count anymore after a certain point (At least that's how I see it!).  So I expected cold to be just, well, cold.

Then a few days ago I was riding up the third lift on the south side of the mountain.  It was difficult to see two chairs in front of me and I hadn't been able to feel my middle fingers for at least 30 minutes.  Twice, my iPhone told me it was too cold to work.  And I started thinking maybe I should pack it in after only two and half hours of skiing. 

 

 

But the pictures I was getting were amazing.  And I wanted to remember how beautiful it was, even if I was slowly losing feeling in the rest of my hands, and my face had become so numb I couldn't move my lips.  Surely, I couldn't possibly get any colder.

After lunch, I met up with Teague and skied some of the lower runs.  It was still freezing, but we adore the time we get together on the mountain.  It's always nice to have one-on-one time with the big brother.  After all, for 3 1/2 years it was just me and Teague; sometimes I forget that our dynamic is very different when Crews is not around.  Not better, just...unique.  And I deeply cherish it.

 

So we kept on skiing.  And I was glad to feel a tiny bit warmer.

The following day we went to Expedition Wolf.  This is one of my favorite places on the planet.  Not only are you surrounded by over 100 gorgeous Huskies, but the guides, the sleds, and the trails are one-of-a-kind. 

 

 

About 3 hours into the trip, all three of us had lost feeling in our hands.  When we tried to talk, our mouths didn't quite move the way they should.  It was similar to watching those anime cartoons where the dialogue doesn't quite match up with the mouth moving.  But we were still having an amazing time and smiled as best as we could.

But then, Crews had to pee.  I really didn't want to remove my gloves to get him undressed out in the frigid wilderness.  But he had on two pairs of longjohns, a ski bib, a fleece, a coat, and gloves.  There was no way this was going down without me getting all those layers off ASAP.  And honestly, I have no clue how he managed to pee while stripped down to nothing in below zero temps. 

By the time I had replaced all of his layers, my hands were a shade of grayish purple I've never before seen.  I started thinking about the Frostbite Waiver we had to sign before departing on the sleds, and worried we might all lose some digits.  But one of our guides wasn't even wearing gloves, so I tried not to be a wimp.

By 4 o'clock it was dark and I was shaking despite being wrapped in a sleeping bag.  All of us were glad to be heading back to base.  And I was sure I could never be colder than I was at that moment.

Yesterday, we woke up to find it would be the coldest day yet.  But the boys still wanted to ski, so I put on 10 layers of clothes and slowly eeked my way back out into the cold.  Teague practiced his turns while I made sure Crews could handle the mountain (and getting off the lift) on his own.  I followed my little bug down twice and he was all set!

But our ski adventure was brief.  After an hour, we left in search of warmth and food.  We were SO cold.

After lunch, we drove over to a tubing park.  By this time, it was 2 o'clock and though it was the sunniest day yet, a large portion of the park was in the shade.  We paused for a brief photo-op with our fabulous Luca Max Sport sunscreen (Thanks Georgia!)...

Then grabbed our tubes!

By this point, I was done.

But I kept on going for an hour and 10 minutes.

Here, I was really done.  And my dad tubed with the boys for another hour!

When we went to the car, my dad attempted to scrape the ice off the windshield.  Then we realized the ice was INSIDE the car!  So I wrote a message:

 

And once again I thought, "I can never be colder than I am right now."

Until today...

A very private decision.

It's been 21 months since I posted a truly honest blog.  In ALL honesty, it's been much longer than that.  The last truly honest blog I posted was the day after my birthday in 2011.  I knew things had changed.  I knew my marriage was over.  But I didn't have the courage to say it.

My life changed that day and has never been the same since.  It never will be.  Some people have that effect on you.  And you can never truly recover.

But when I started this blog, it was about in-your-face-I-don't-care-what-you-think-honesty.  I talked about lasering my bikini line, accidentally cussing in front of my kids, and putting trust in people who ultimately didn't deserve it. 

Because of the ridiculous crap I have been subjected to over the past 2 years, I have decided to make my blog private.  This is a choice I never ever thought I'd make.

I despise that I have to be censored.  I don't believe anyone should be.  But I am so damned tired of being monitored by my ex's family, attorney, and anyone affiliated with him, that I feel it is necessary.  For some reason, they believe I cannot see who accesses/comments on my blog "anonymously."  For the last 11 months, even though I am divorced, I feel I cannot post about my feelings, be honest about what happens in my house, and/or live my life in a way I previously judged appropriate.  Therefore from today on, my blog will be private.

If you want to read it, please subscribe.  If you don't give a shit, GREAT!  I write it for myself.  I ruminate about it for those who love me.  And I'm disgusted by the fact that I didn't do it sooner.

Thank you SO much to my loyal readers.
You have kept me going over the last few years.
It brings me such pride that with one post, you bring this abandoned blog from zero readers in 3 months to thousands in minutes.

My cup runneth over...
Whit

Life is a balance of holding on and letting go.

The last year of my life has flown by.  I swear I blinked and now it's November again.  And even though things have been exponentially difficult since June, time has sped along at a marathon pace.

In a few short months, I have gone from a full-time, stay-at-home mom who wrote 3 books in 2 years, to someone who is arranging office space.  And I have to say: I've never felt more alive.

I don't necessarily like being 35.  I'm not really embracing this age.  But I do like the comfort of settling into who I am, but not at all settling for much of anything else.

If I've learned anything over the last few years, it's that I like what I like, I want what I want, and I just can't accept the bare minimum.  I don't want to adhere to what is basically acceptable.  I can't be satisfied with what is simply required.  And every day I find myself wanting to reach for the ideal and aspire to something bigger, deeper, more meaningful.

I'm excited about the new people who keep making their way into my life.  I'm grateful for the connections that keep miraculously being made.  And I LOVE that people keep telling me I'm absolutely glowing with happiness. 

I'm glad to see that my sheer joy is not being overshadowed by mounting stress.  It's nice to know that the whole really is greater than the sum of its parts.  And it's phenomenal to experience the growth and depth of existing friendships as they mature.

In other words: At times, I have been lucky.  More than once, I have felt blessed.  And once again, I'm seeing there is still a future filled with unlimited, glorious, super-fun possibilities.

Life is a balance of holding on and letting go.  It's also about accepting uncertainty and embracing the unknown.  It's about second chances.  Brand-new firsts.  Different stories.  New, shared realities.  Opportunities.  And of course, risks.

Here's to throwing caution to the wind, diving headfirst, and taking little leaps of faith.  All of which can be accomplished with good friends...and a little wine!

A fortune for your cookie.

I can't help it: I'm a sucker for a fortune cookie.

I love the folded, golden, sweetness of the post-Chinese food treat.  I like making everyone choose their cookie from the plate of many.  Hell, I even like that sometimes they are surprisingly stale or spiked with a hint of lemon.  Let's face it: With fortune cookies, you never know what you're gonna get.  And it might be one of the only types of unpredictability I actually embrace.

A quick sidenote about my love of fortune cookies...

On the very first day I moved to Charleston in August of 1996, I met one of the most amazing people on the planet.  His name was Jonathan and he was a total weirdo.  But I loved him instantly and to this day I would gladly lay my life in his hands because not only would he do anything for me, he willingly has many times.  And if you're wondering why I said his name was Jonathan, it's because he changed it to Sebastian years ago and I still can't adjust.  He will always be Jonnie to me and that's that.

Anyway...

Jonnie and I went to eat Chinese one day at Great Wall.  (If you lived here in the late 90's, you will remember that Great Wall was first a shady Chinese joint then it became an incredibly weird, keg-filled, glowstick-waving, raver club.)  As I sat across from Jonnie, and some other dude who clearly did not become a lasting part of my college career, Jonnie told me that it was "tradition" to smack your fortune cookie against your forehead to crack it before you opened the plastic.  He said, "Dude, if you want your fortune to come true, you totally have to crush it on your forehead."

To this day I'm not really sure why, but I grabbed my cookie and smashed it right into my forehead.  Jonnie and Person X just stared at me, as did the the staff and fellow buffet goers.  It really is amazing how loud an exploding fortune cookie wrapper and shattering sugar can be.

I never really lived that one down, but every single time I've seen a fortune cookie since that day, I've tried to convince everyone at the table to do the same.  Not once have I experienced success.  Not even with my kids.

So tonight at P.F. Changs I once again tried to get the boys and their best friend to smash their cookies into their foreheads.  They still didn't go for it.  But everyone was willing to carefully select their cookie from the plate and patiently share their fortunes.

It's funny.  I've always viewed fortunes as unpredictable, but tonight they seemed pretty spot-on.

Teague: "Everyone feels lucky for having you as a friend."

 Crews: "Your love of life can carry you through any circumstance."

Owen: "Excitement and intrigue follow you closely wherever you go!"

Mom: "Your smile is a curve that can get a lot of things straight."

And then there was mine.  

The only one in the bunch that did not mention anything about who I am, how I affect others, or where I've been. 

Instead, it simply stated this:

And I'll take it.

The (almost) perfect day.

Have you ever had the kind of day where everything seems to be rolling along famously, and you think, "Hmmm, I kinda rule." 

It's the same type of day in which you couldn't get to sleep the night before and kept thinking about how much the morning was going to suck, but for some reason your eyes popped open exactly one minute before the alarm went off and you didn't even have to hear that godawful, dreadful sound.

Instead of wandering around in the sleep-deprived stupor you feared, you find yourself bouncing into the shower, finding an outfit that makes you feel cute, and actually having a non-afrofied hair day even though the humidity is high.  Your make-up is on, coffee is made, the dog is fed, your kid's clothes are laid out, their preferred morning beverage is poured, and there isn't even any whining when you wake them up for the first time in 3 months.

For once, there is no traffic on Harborview Road.  You sail through two successive green lights.  And when you turn up the stereo volume, your favorite Avett Brothers song is just starting. 

You make it to both Meet the Teacher events early.  Get to see so many faces you've been missing all summer.  And pick up a cool extra kid along the way.  You convince the munchkins to go where YOU want for breakfast.  You get not one, but two prime parking spots downtown.  You are even complimented on your shirt three times and your shoes once.

Yep, this morning was a good one. 

Too bad after breakfast I realized my fly had been open since I got dressed at 6:30 this morning.  Oh, and somehow for the first time ever, I managed to forget to shave my armpits.  This is great considering I posed for several pictures with my kids with my arms over my head in celebration of school starting. 

Oh well, at least (I thought) I ruled for a little while.  And thank goodness I was wearing cute underwear.  Perhaps they distracted from the hairy armpits.

Rainy Day #2 (Or as I like to call it: The Epic Fail of Motherhood)

Considering this is the last week of summer for my kids and neither of them is enrolled in camp, I took it upon myself to check the forecast for the week on Monday and made my Type A plans accordingly.  Although the boys were begging to see Disney's Planes from the moment their dad dropped them off, I told them we HAD to wait until Tuesday because there was no reason to waste a perfectly beautiful, sunny day on a movie. 

On Tuesday, as we emerged from the movie at 2:30, my friend Jodi and I were surprised to see there wasn't a cloud in the sky and it wasn't as hot as all hell outside.  I hated that I'd wasted a rainy day activity, especially since we'd already seen every other kid flick from Epic, to Turbo, to Despicable Me 2, and even Smurfs 2.  But I quickly got over it and even convinced the kids to go for a run with the dog.

Wednesday, well Wednesday was hot as hell.  The boys were desperate to go to the playground at James Island County Park and that place is like the surface of the sun.  I begged them to take their swimsuits so they could jump in the Spray Play, but they were adamant that I should NOT bring swimsuits.  Thank God, I've learned to ignore their demands. 

Anyway, JICP is usually so packed that you cannot move.  However, we were only 3 of the 6 people who opted to bake at 10 am. 

Notice: Teague is pounding Gatorade and Crews can hardly muster the energy to spin after 8 minutes:
 

At JICP, there are only 2 seats in the shade (both of which were being used to dry someone's towels).  The rubber below the playground equipment smelled like cooking tires.  And at one point, there was a squirrel sitting next to my feet that was so hot it was panting and didn't even bother to move when Crews ran at it and screamed.  In fact, when the lady sitting next to me spilled her water, squirrels came from all over and started lapping it up off the stinky rubber.  Here is Crews taunting one, but I counted 7.

At this point, they were both thankful I had brought swimsuits.

At exactly 10:30, Spray Play kicked on and both of them disappeared.

The smiles and energy were back!

They played for 2 hours, had lunch, and reluctantly agreed to drive to Mt. Pleasant with me.  I can always bribe them to make the trip by promising a stop at Smoothie King.  It's no Jamba Juice, but they are like their mom and will take "the next best thing" fix!

As we drove around Mt. Pleasant looking for a store that sold elliptical machines, and unbeknownst to me had relocated, the bottom fell out of the sky.  It rained so hard that even when I had the new address, I passed the store three times.  Frustrated, filled with delicious smoothies, and all 3 of us now needing to pee, we just couldn't wait for the rain to let up.  Luckily, they found their rain coats stuffed in the back of the car.  Me?  Not so lucky.  My raincoat was missing and they had stolen the 3 umbrellas to make an "umbrella fort" in the driveway before we left. 

I got soaked.  They were as dry as the desert.  But I did find the elliptical (an awesome birthday gift from my parents!).

By the time we finally made it back home, not only was downtown Charleston flooded but so was my driveway.  The pond had risen at least 6 inches.  The pool was full.  And I reluctantly checked the forecast again.  Rain.  Rain.  Rain.

We ended up having a hot tea and Harry Potter Marathon for the rest of the afternoon (My dream day!).  Of course we couldn't get past The Prisoner of Azkaban because the Dementors scare the crap out of Crews, but still, LOVE.  We made what they consider dinner, talked about our Duck Dynasty excitement, and Teague read to me from his chapter book (a VERY big deal since he has orthographic dyslexia).

When Crews came to wake me up this morning, I immediately noticed how dark it was.  Then I heard a loud clap of thunder.  I instantly knew what kind of day this would be.  If it's raining when the boys get up, you cannot drag them out of the house.  They refuse to leave, even for food, and end up torturing each other all day long.

I tried to set the tone for the day as soon as we got downstairs.  I let them make chocolate chip pancake batter.  I made Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes.  I even let them squirt the whipped cream to make the face.  But within an hour, the sugar had kicked in and the dog was feeding off their energy.  I had to go sit on the front porch to drink my tea in peace, which only lasted about 30 seconds before the boys found me and the dog found a mud hole.

Three games of Candyland, a round of blocks, a 6 foot puzzle, a game of Minions, a sword fight, coloring, breaking of colors, snack, lunch, toy closet mayhem/destruction, one spilled Pediasure on the wooden tray of the ottoman which seeped into Crews' iPad mini, a run to the mailbox by Teague which resulted in full-on slippage in the driveway and the claim that he broke his back but 10 minutes later was beating his brother with a stuffed monkey, and finally, after telling the kids the only thing they could NOT do was get in the pool because it had dead frogs and other storm debris in it, I said, "You know what?  I bet it won't kill you."  And I watched as they flew out the door and jumped in the pool for the 10 minutes it did not rain.

Today is what I call epic motherhood fail.  Why didn't I bust out the things I used to like to do?  Why didn't I get a little more creative?  Well, I'll tell you why: I didn't have a list.

My day-to-day life revolves around lists.  It always has.  Given, I often misplace them these days, but I still make one every single day.  So tonight, after getting the angels/monsters to bed, I made a list of all the things we could have done.  I didn't limit it to just rainy day activities; sometimes, you just need to do something a little different.  And with boys, you just have to accept that most activities won't be tolerated for an extended period of time.

So here is what I came up with.  It's not from internet research or ideas on Pinterest.  It's not high-tech or anything that really involves shopping or ingredients.  I just tried to think of what I liked to do as a kid, what I had around the house, and things I cannot possibly think of when I'm in the midst of mayhem.  I threw it in the "Notes" section of my phone and hopefully when the next rainy/boring/OMG I'm going to run away if you kids don't STOP day rolls around, I can pull it up and proceed with ease.

Scavenger hunt (the more disgusting the better)
Invent a recipe ONLY from what we have in the pantry
Use the endless amount of train tracks to build a loop through all 4 bedrooms upstairs
Turn Teague's upper bunk into a treehouse
Race the 500 cars we have down the ramp my dad built for Teague's racecar birthday party 2 years  ago
Outdoor Tic-Tac-Toe with sidewalk chalk
Under-the-table hammocks (oldie but goodie)
Play school with the 10,000 stuffed animals we have
Look for new Kindle books for iPads
Work on a photo album (their choice of pics to print)
Create a "Book about Me" with construction paper and string (I have a zillion of these from my childhood)
Make old-school homemade ice cream (salt, ice, and all!)
Put a pitcher out and measure the rain
Make a video about being your current age
Put on a play
Build a city for our hamster, Hermione
Encourage Crews to point out letters and numbers in every room of the house
Play Hide and Speak- when you're found you have to yell a word in another language or you are "it"
Take photos of your 3 favorite things and see if Mom and your brother can guess what they will be
Decorate a room like it's your favorite holiday even if it's months away
Take a bubble bath for no reason
Wear eyeliner mustaches all day
Set slideshow to random on your computer and guess who is who in baby pictures
Take turns telling a story, one line at a time
Prank call your grandparents
Move one item per room and see who notices first

And finally, snuggle, hug, and huddle together for one whole minute without drama.  If you succeed, you can get into Mom's Hershey bar stash!

If you fail, well then Mommy gets a glass of wine.  :)

What's in a name?

A few years ago, my Blogger account got hacked and subsequently deleted.  For  a day or so, I had no clue what had happened and kept Googling my name to see if I could bring up my Blog site. 

At the time, I was of course Whitney Hendrickson, and it was a little unsettling what instantly appeared. 

An 18-year-old girl in Colorado named Whitney Hendrickson was pumping gas into her mom's minivan as she embarked on a tour of colleges with a friend.  While standing at the tank, a truck swerved, hit the gas pump, and engulfed Whitney and the car in flames.  She was caught between the minivan and the pump as fire and smoke surrounded her.  Her best friend was left to watch and scream.

The fire department was on the scene within two minutes, and one firefighter approached as Whitney yelled for help.  He reported she was holding her face in her hands as she was swallowed by the inferno.  He attempted to save her with an extinguisher, but was ultimately told to retreat by colleagues.

This Whitney Hendrickson was an artist, an honors student, a twin, an older sibling, and people described her as "having a way about her that was divine."


The same search yielded results for the Whitney Hendrickson Cancer Facility for Women in Lexington, Kentucky.  She raised 2.5 million dollars for an over 45,000 square foot facility that provides multidisciplinary ambulatory care for women suffering from breast cancer, gynecologic cancers, and lung, hematologic, gastrointestinal and urologic cancers.  She also continues to raise funds for stroke recovery, supports exhibits at the Smithsonian Museum, funds the Kentucky Aviation Museum, and has an elementary school and high school gymnasium named after her.


Today, my son was playing on his iPad mini and Googled "Whitney Windham."  Much to my chagrin, the lamest websites in the history of the planet popped up.

First, the Whitney Wyndham Hotel in New Orleans appeared.  Fine.  I grew up 3 hours from New Orleans and spent most of the weekends of my early life there.  But, it's not even a spelling match for my name!

Second, there was this atrocity at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vyy2esvI7ew.  It's a song by this bleached-blonde Texas girl called, "Get Past Daddy."  I swear, the lyrics actually say, "I like your red truck, cute butt, but you gotta get past Daddy."  If you would like to see/hear more, go to whitwindham.com.  But seriously, this girl made me want to crawl in a hole and change my name.  The tagline of her website is, "Some girls are just born with glitter in their veins."  Awesome.  Whitney, just go start your porn career now because your lyrics and comments about glitter have already layed the foundation for a future of Jenna Jameson proportions.

Then I got a little hopeful when I saw that there was a Whitney Windham who was recently hired as a mortgage consultant at a bank in Mississippi.  See, we aren't all bad, I thought...

But the next entry was an absolutely insane mugshot of a Whitney Windham in Darlington, SC.  She is wanted for domestic violence and apparently has escaped.  Equally awesome.

What I'm trying to emphasize is there is a lot in a name.  But you cannot let it define you.  It took me until page five of Google results to encounter my own Facebook page or my Blog.  And I think I'm a pretty damned good Whitney Windham.

I'm not the girl who died tragically in Colorado.  Or the billionaire who endlessly donated to cancer research.  I'm not the former beauty queen from Texas who doesn't have two brain cells to rub together.  And I'm definitely not the lady from the trailer park who pulled some dude's hair out by the plugs. 

We may love our moniker.  We may be severely attached to what we call ourselves.  And yes, family history and ancestry are incredibly important.  But still, we shouldn't let our names define us.  We will never be the people we were named for.  Some of us won't even be the people we were when we reclaim our former or maiden names.  And that is totally ok.  It's up to us to create and sometimes recreate our own path and meaning. 

I hope that as I re-enter the professional world, I can generate an internet search result worthy of who I think this Whitney Windham really is.  But for now, I will mourn the loss of Whitney Hendrickson, accept the diversity amongst the Whitney Windhams of the world, and hope to God no one ever associates "glitter in my veins" with this Whitney.  As far as I'm concerned, what runs through this Whitney is Blackfeet blood, strength, tolerance, and an independent spirit that won't be tamed.  But I'm currently taking applications if someone would like to try.  :)

Happy Birthday to ME!

Some people prefer to ignore their birthdays.  Some people like to celebrate the anniversary of their favorite one.  Some people prefer a peaceful dinner.  Some people like to be surprised.

Me?  I just like to do it up right!

I don't like a quiet affair.  I like lots of friends.  Tons of food.  And even more wine.  I like cake and insane laughter.  I like reminiscing about past stupidity and maybe trying to get others to do something stupid with me again.  And I cannot remember the last time I had an uneventful birthday.

I'll be the first to admit that my last 2 birthdays involved very late nights and mischief...But when I think back on previous birthdays, they really weren't that much different.

I got piercings...

 

I rode a mechanical bull at night on an island off of Mexico...

 

I wore the most hideous dress on the planet to the Blind Tiger on my 21st birthday, with a sombrero...

 

 I can't even share photos from the next few birthdays after that because my friends won't let me...

 

But then in 2002, I got engaged on my birthday.

 

In 2008, I found out I was pregnant with Crews on my birthday.

 

And on my birthday in 2011, I realized my marriage was coming to an end.

I'm happy to see what this year brings, but I hope all of the excitement isn't limited to just one night.  I'd much rather spread the fun over the course of a year.

So tomorrow night is my birthday celebration with the boys, and Saturday night will be the ginormous celebration with my girls.  Watch out, Chucktown.  We're comin' for ya.  And I totally saw that sombrero in the attic last week...

My thoughtful boy and his birthday plan.

On Friday afternoon, my boys asked me what I wanted for my birthday.  I told them all I wanted was some hugs and kisses and maybe a homemade birthday card.  Teague smirked and said, "Seriously?  You think I haven't already made you a card?  I have it stashed at Dad's house so you couldn't sneak around and find it.  I made it weeks ago."

It was very "Teague."  It takes him 30 minutes to get dressed and 15 minutes to wander over and brush his teeth.  Sometimes he walks around in distracted circles for 10 minutes before I can finally get him in the car.  But a birthday card for his mom?  Oh yeah, that's been ready for 14 days.

Crews stood there looking a little upset.  I'm not sure if it was because Teague didn't think to tell him my birthday was coming or if he thought he could just sign the one Teague made.  Regardless, I explained my birthday wasn't until Wednesday and that he had plenty of time.  Besides, I'm turning 35.  I'm not very excited about it.  So I'm definitely not trying to push up the date or celebrate early.  In fact, we could just put it off indefinitely and that would be cool.

Anyway, Teague said he wanted to take me out for a fancy dinner on Wednesday night.  I was thinking he probably meant somewhere like Panera Bread instead of the boys' usual go-to: Sonic.  But he surprised me and said he wanted to go Stars, a beautiful grill room I adore downtown.  http://starsrestaurant.com/

Jokingly, I asked if he was going to make our reservation and bring all of his Tooth Fairy money so he could pay.  He looked a little skeptical about my requests, but didn't say no.

This morning after he left for golf camp, I grabbed my phone to check emails.  This is the screen that popped up:

 

 

My sweet boy had Googled "Stars fancy."  I don't know what he planned to do with this information (surely, he isn't going to try to call and make a reservation?!), but it is definitely the thought that counts.  He has some kind of little plan in the works and that is also very "Teague."

 

I guess turning 35 isn't the end of the world.  And at least I get to do it in the presence of my two favorite people on the planet.  So we will have "fancy" food, multiple desserts, maybe a little wine for mom, and whatever else Teague has in store.  But seriously, I would have been perfectly happy with the hugs and kisses.

 





 



First sleepover: Part 2.

On July 15th, 2011, I posted a blog entitled "First sleepover."  It was the very first time I had EVER spent the night away from my firstborn and I was absolutely terrified.

A few days before, a classmate's dad had contacted us about a sleepover.  I was immediately horrified.  I was sure that my five-year-old was in no way ready for a sleepover and I was totally opposed to the idea.  However, after talking with Jack's dad, Pat, and learning that he knew the ropes (4 kids of his own) I felt comfortable enough to let Teague go.

I practically packed Teague an entire suitcase for just one night.  He had rash guards, sunscreen, a life jacket, and a bag of snacks big enough to supply an army for a weekend.  I let Pat know that Teague only ate 3 things and he most likely wouldn't eat anything until he came home the next day.  I also sent several cans of Pediasure just in case Teague preferred to drink his meals instead of eat (the norm).  And then I tried to settle in for a quiet evening with only one child.

But at 9 o'clock I started getting texts.  Teague wasn't feeling well and looked like he might throw up.  Within 10 minutes, Teague had puked all over Pat.  And the bathroom.  And the Master bedroom.  Pat told me he had cooked Teague a pizza, baked him chicken nuggets, and "fried up a mean grilled cheese," but Teague had refused it all.  Eventually, he had consumed one bite of a cupcake. 

They had been boating all day and Teague definitely didn't make drinking water a priority.  Mix that with total food refusal, 100 degrees, and it's a bad combo.  By 9:30, Colin was on his way to Kiawah to pick up Teague.  For those of you who don't live in Charleston, it's a solid 45-50 minute drive each way.

I learned many things that night:

1) If your kid is at a sleepover, don't ever feel free to drink as much as you want.  You could be called upon at any hour to go pick him up.

2) Even the most experienced parents can't soothe your kids the way you do.

3) It's never too far to go pick up your kid.

4) People will surprise you with their kindness when your kid pukes all over their house.

5) Sometimes you have to let go and put a little faith in someone you have a good feeling about.  Even if you don't know why yet.

6) Kids remember their first sleepover and can recall every detail of that experience.  It's a total rite of passage.

7) I wouldn't change anything about that first sleepover experience: Teague felt comfortable with Jack and his dad, and he knew we would be there when he needed us.  He has known it ever since.

Tonight is Crews' first sleepover.  He's been begging and pleading for at least a year.  He has been ready for a long time, but I find it so hard to let him go.  He may only be 4, but he is much older at heart.  He is bold because of his brother.  He is strong in spite of him.  He is tough because of his mom.  And he is my little blond warrior.

Tonight will be much different in the Mease house.  Crews has been there a million times, but this moon will mark his initiation into "The Big Boys Club."  I'm so proud of him for taking the leap.  I'm so grateful to Shannon for taking on both of my boys.  And I'm so happy that my kids will always have the memories of their first sleepover with people who mean the world to me.

Night Crewsy.  I'm pretty sure you are stronger than us all!

Eat Here Now! And Now! And Again. And Maybe Just One More Time...

I've never been much of a stress eater.  When I get upset, I tend to avoid food.  My appetite diminishes.  I get more active.  And usually, I can't stop running.

But I'm gonna be totally honest: I haven't gotten off my butt in over 3 weeks and I have eaten just about everything in sight. 

Trauma.  Drama.  Sadness.  Whatever you want to call it, it has turned me into a garbage disposal.  A soft, squishier version of a garbage disposal who sits on the couch and thinks about cake.  A lot.  And lately, I have just driven to the store and bought some when that happens.  Well, maybe not the store.  I DO have standards after all.  But I have driven to Cupcake more than 6 times in under a month.  And I hit up just about every bakery in San Diego over the course of 5 days. 

One day, I stopped into Extraordinary Desserts for a snack:

Unfortunately, I had 4 of them...

Today I was looking through the photos on my phone and I swear there are more pictures of food than there are of my children.  Now, it's not entirely uncommon for me to photograph my food.  I used to blog about cooking all the time.  I love posting pics of fantastic meals to Facebook and remembering great dishes I've enjoyed; however, the sheer amount of food I'm consuming has quadrupled, and my amount of activity has hit the negative realm.  Therefore I am blog-vowing to turn the tables (literally!) and get back into a healthy routine.

I ran for the first time in over a month yesterday.  And today, my body hates me.  But when I get up tomorrow and force myself past that first, horrible, awful, terrible, angry mile and actually feel good for rolling myself off the couch, my body will forgive me and eventually it will start to reward me once again.

So bye-bye churros dipped in chocolate.  See ya later 18 raw oysters eaten every other day.  Adios Bagel Nation and Ye Ole Fashioned butterscotch sundaes.  This girl is getting off the buffet train and stepping back onto the treadmill. 

It was real.  It was fun.  But it's not real fun when you begin to swallow your clothes.

Wish me luck!

This is how we do it.

On Easter morning, some people like to see what the bunny brought.  Some head directly outside to look for eggs.  Some head to church.  Some throw a big ol' ham in the oven.  And some of us head to the airport to pick up our just-flown-in shipment of crawfish.

No, that's not the only bag.  Where do you think I was raised?!


Yeah, holidays are a little different around the Windham-Hendrickson home now.  But even before the earthquake, we did things a little bit different.  This was our 4th Annual Easter Crawfish Extravaganza.

Now, we DO check our Easter baskets.  We DO look for eggs.  But, we do it a day early with Mommy on odd-numbered years.

 

We're cool with it.  The "new" schedule is old hat.  We are officially split-house pros at this point.

 And we still share our goodies with Aunt Amanda because she is awesome and rules, and would do ANYTHING for us!  She might be the only person on the planet Teague would share his chocolate with.

Anyway...

We go to church sometimes.

We spend Easter with friends and family we love always.

But we do NOT have ham for Easter.

We murder our Easter food the good ole fashioned way.  We boil it.

Well, first we play with it...

 Then we pick out the ones who didn't survive the trip (aka the straight tails)

Then we prepare to purge them...

Then we teach our California brethren what purging is...

 Then we pick a favorite...

And pay our respects to the dead... (because they don't pinch and we can be much braver)

 Sometimes you just have to take a pic with the biggest dead one who is missing one claw...

Then it's officially time to purge... Which really is a foul process.

Now it's time to drop the first batch.

And when you pull em' out, you gotta season...

 After a few tastes of the first batch, (and maybe a beer) it's time for crawfish-posing time (If you haven't seen this before, I will be sure to post a pic from our first Easter extravaganza where a crawfish drove a pirate ship!).  Sorry dude, but you just look so good against that lemon backdrop!

Then grown-ups have to pick a favorite and take a picture with one of their besties.  Even if you STILL haven't made it to the shower because you just got back from Canada the night before.

 And he is threatening your crawfish with his crawfish.

Then he makes your crawfish try to battle.

But they mutually decide to play dead so we don't throw them in the pot.

 Then Ray decides to put on a crawfish puppet show, which kinda rules.

 But is not at all scary.

Then it's time for the table dump.

 And watching your truly Southern mom don plastic gloves so her manicure doesn't get messed up.

 Your best friend sucks the heads...

Your 7 and 4-year-old follow your lead...

Then you realize they are following Nana's lead and wearing gloves, which is slightly embarrassing...

But you remember that every year, Teague picks one crawfish to set free in the pond...

 Because he sincerely believes that "Even if you only save one, it's important."

And we eat.

 And eat.

 And eat.

 And celebrate.

 And toast.

 And we are grateful.

Because sometimes, when you don't get get your kids on Easter day, you get them the day before.  And that just happens to be the 30th of March.  Which happens to be the day you gave birth to your second son.

And even though you already threw an outrageous party with a homemade cake for him 2 weeks earlier, you get this...

 A Carvel cake...

 A beautiful, genuine, smile...

 Excitement...

 Joy....

 Bare feet...

Your lovely blond locks almost catching fire...

The realization that you are FINALLY 4!

 You can lick the whole cake if you want to.

Or bite it.

And you know that your Papa has given it his all to make this day special.  And actually, he gives it his all every day of your life to make it that way.