Friday, June 27, 2014

What kind of Bear is he? Not a dying one!

If someone told me they went on their honeymoon with their 4 kids to Missouri to spend time with a man named "Bear" I am not so sure I would believe them. However crazy this may sound it is indeed my truth. Talk about a way to start married life right? Before we were even through the airport this conversation ensued:

Airport security person: "Where are you traveling to?"
Claire: "Um... Kansas?"
Airport security person: "Who are these people to you?"
Zac: "Good?"

Surprisingly these answers were met with a nod as we moved right along on our trip that can only be described as eventful. The flight went smoothly, we were even told by the stewardess, or should I say flight attendant.. that our children were very well behaved, I can't lie, upon hearing this I felt a little bit like Mom of the Year. However, upon arrival the humidity hit in full force, a wall of wet heat like nothing I have ever experienced before, bringing me down from my internal high. Visions of icy cold margarita's danced in my head...

I would tell you about all of the stress and drama that came with getting a rental van but instead I think I shall move right along to the place where I met my husband's "dying" father,  "Bear" (this is after all, why we are on a honeymoon with 4 kids in Missouri in the first place.) For a dying man Bear was quite spry, I do believe he sprang up to greet me when we arrived, a glass of whiskey sweating in the hot summer sun and a dachshund happily yipping at his feet. Somehow they both seemed immune to the sweltering heat. As I greeted him, it dawned on me that this man was not only NOT dying but he was slightly buzzed and witty to boot. Somehow this revelation didn't surprise me, his moniker alone led me to believe this may be the case. So, with an internal sigh I settled in with hopes of being offered a cold beverage of my own. I was not disappointed..

On this trip we managed to successfully visit 4 cemeteries, move a 100 year old outhouse, eat weinerschnitzel, decorate cookies, get bitten by chiggers and my very favorite part, see fire flies! They truly are magical and a must see for everyone. Go now, and put this on your bucket list, while you're at it write a note to self: don't walk barefooted in the woods in Missouri.

As disappointing as it was to find out we had been swindled by my father-in-law, who as I mentioned turned out to be a Bear not near the brink of death. I wholeheartedly enjoyed meeting the man who helped bring the most amazing man, whom I now call husband, into my life. His intelligence, humor and tell it like it is mentality was simultaneously refreshing and frightening. The trip was ultimately a success and I do believe I have earned a true honeymoon to boot. I mean, I did assist in moving a porta potty, and a used one at that!

Thursday, June 26, 2014

If My Driveway Could Talk

Her poncho was a vibrant pink and her feet were bare as she slammed the solid wood door behind her. She stepped out into the cold air, her feet left marks in the snow and quickly her toes changed to match the poncho that lightly blew in the winter breeze. A quick turn, a few strides and she was back inside. I grabbed her boots and handed them to her begging her not to run away but she was quickly back out the door and across the yard, all the while spewing anger and discontent. Claire is my step daughter and she has never run away and this brief jaunt only lasted about 10 minutes, but for me as a parent it was petrifying none the less. This marks one of the moments that my driveway has been privy to. It has also witnessed my husband, shirtless and shoeless (this is typical) walking out to hand me steaming hot coffee and eggs made only the way he can. With a kiss and a smile I leave for work every day in this exact manner, and I do believe it will never get old. This driveway has also experienced a woman swerving and screaming atop her bicycle,  as our vicious 11 lb. cockapoo barks in her general direction with malicious intent of course, leaving this poor woman "afraid for her life." More importantly this very same slab of concrete was witness to the revelation that our 12 year old son believed when said cockapoo was fixed that her entire vagina had certainly been removed. At this point I should explain that very often our family discussions occur in the driveway. My husband works very hard as a gym owner (more on that later) and when he gets home he can often count on being greeted by myself, our dogs and our children as well. He is a hot commodity. Emphasis on the hot, in my opinion. These greetings can end with him shirtless stretched out in the driveway with any number of us by his side recalling the events of our day. The one thing I can say for certain is this, if our driveway could talk I do believe it would say that we are an emotional, crazy, funny, close knit family with an abundance of energy and love for each other. We have our moments where running away seems the only answer but we also have the hot coffee, steamy kisses that somehow manage to balance it all out. You throw in a little vagina-less dog talk and all of the bases are covered.