zjlw

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The last post was really depressing. What a relief we decided to mix it up during this year’s Independence Day holiday. The previous two were already way too monotonous. First July 4th, then Hempels in the Hamptons and then Rhode Island beaching. Better. Ok, that’s not Rhode Island. Technically it’s Massachusetts. But really, what’s the difference. Rhode Island is just a large county of Massachusetts, no? Worcester is actually a hair bigger. Bracing myself for the hate mail.

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Jake has proven he is absolutely insane. I don’t mean the average kid’s “I just ate paste” insane. I mean the “I am intent on drowning myself, being dragged out to sea and sinking to the ocean floor” kind of insane. The order is unimportant. I waded out and stood between the boy and the abyss. He still managed to get knocked over and pulled under by a “BIG ONE!” I lost sight of him long enough to break into a cold sweat. You can’t catch him if you can’t see him. Cough up water, brush off sand, rinse and repeat.

Can someone explain why he can shake off a near death experience but being toweled off after a bath is like taking a hot poker to his eye? Right. A control freak. Where did he get that from?

Yeah Kev, skate egg case. What Coop said :)

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You know, I never actually said we were all that exciting. In fact, we’re really kind of boring when you come right down to it. On a sliding scale that varies on nap count and time on the hamster wheel, our family is right up there with drying paint and growing grass. Kev showed up on our doorstep anyway. He does that sometimes.

I suppose there was some fun to be had. We test drove the insane water slide that will be the main attraction of Jake’s 3rd birthday party (Kev’s got a better establishing shot of it). Even requires “Constant, competent ADULT supervision“. Competent? He’s just about managed to make it to his 3rd birthday. Does that mean we qualify?

If you’re going to get into a years long rut, do it right. Lee and I have “can do” attitudes so we dragged Kev to Cafe Habana, a repeat since roughly 2000. No suprise; I had the cuban sandwich despite years of promises that I would try their brunch menu the next time we are there. The very next time. Ok, next time.

After four days of this grinding monotony, I still think he’ll come back. He does that sometimes.

Yes, it’s summertime. Yes, that means the Jersey Shore. Jake decided he could take it. Almost had to return that water slide.

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My parents had planned on being here two months ago. The fates (and the gross ineptitude of the airlines) conspired against us, leaving Lee and I to take the brunt of the kids’ frustration when they were told Popa and Scimmia were not coming. Damn American Airlines.

Fortunately this time around there was nary a cloud in the sky to offer the American an excuse to take a slash and burn approach to dealing with their scheduling issues. Mom and Dad arrived safely and spent three days demonstrating their improvisational skills, showing team spirit, getting nutty with the rodents and did I mention getting nutty with the rodents?

My grandfather came for a visit to watch Zoe play her last soccer game of the season. The four generation shots still impress the hell out of me.

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We gave the condo a fond, final farewell.

We are already planning the next trip up. Condo free.

‘Nuff said.

15 minutes. We were 15 minutes away from making it through the weekend crisis-free. After I finished cleaning up after our creating Mother’s Day present masterpieces from each of the kids (courtesy of a fabulous idea from Lee’s sister Kris. Muchas gracias cuñada), we were to head out and pick up Lisa from the airport. Only it didn’t work out that way.

Instead, we ended up in the emergency room. Oddly enough, it was a Monday not a Tuesday.

“Daddy, Jake swallowed a magnet.” “What!?!” “Yeah, it wasn’t so big though.” “What?” “I told him not to put it in his mouth.” “What?” “I think it was an accident.” “What?”

I wiped the stunned look off, but wasn’t so successful with getting rid of the visions of recalls and perforated intestines. A call to the pediatrician confirmed that having my car keys and directions to the hospital in hand was a good idea. 3 hours in the emergency room was spent breaking into a cold sweat every time Jake went near something in any way metallic. My boy, the fridge magnet. There were, in fact, 2 in his gut revealed by x-ray.

Lee’s welcome home consisted of a taxi back to the house, a frantic drive to the hospital and 24 hours of nervous searching through fouled diapers for magnets.

Welcome home babe. You got your souvenirs.