15 minutes tearing through the garbage in the garage...

Another 10 minutes of ripping and fitting...

And then he's transformed...

into a carefully crafted...

Bionic boy robot.

And then he was off to save the world (or maybe conquer it).

Handyman Wanted

Crazy, loud, destructive family in desperate need of a handyman

Lovely family in need of a handyman

Must not get upset if children watch you work and touch your tools

Must like small children

Must be able to acquire rare missing lampshade hats

Must be resourceful

Must know how to get crayon off all surfaces

Cleaning knowledge a plus

Must fix this right now before Scott sees

Prompt attention to family heirlooms appreciated

Must be able to reinforce towel bars to withstand the weight of 40 pounds

Commercial quality construction experience wanted

Must be able to tell me what this wire is, 5 years and I still don't know

Expect some light electrical repair

Must be willing to undo some of my shady construction errors without laughing at me

Looking for a sensitive, non judgemental candidate

Alright, just make all the towel bars strong enough to hang on (it rains alot, we need some form of exercise)

Once again extreme durability in all repair jobs a must.

This job doesn't necessarily pay actual cash.  Consider it a resume building reference and experience.  Think of it more as a community project.  It's time for you to give back  a little.  I will be more than happy to pay you with dinner.  Please see attached invite. 

http://thetestosteroneadventures.blogspot.com/2010/07/wed-be-honored-to-have-you-for-dinner.html

If interested, apply in person and bring your tools, no point in wasting any one's time.    Also looking for a cleaning help, a nanny and a personal assistant.  So if you have friends, bring them (all).

It's August, it's Florida and it's miserable.

You ride home in a van with no air conditioning and then you step out onto the concrete driveway and fry your bare feet as you run up to the front door.  You fumble with the key while your already scorched feet are branded by the cast iron welcome mat.  You run into the house looking for some relief in the air conditioning only to find out you turned the thermostat up to 83 before leaving this morning. 

So what do you do?

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.........

Sweet Sweet Reprieve!!!

Scars

A great scar...

is good for character building...

and is a great ice breaker story at a party...

A great scar...

is tough looking...

and makes you more unique...

A great scar...

means you live life on the edge...

and possibly that you and your Dad both need more supervision.

For all of you that questioned my parenting and emergency first aid skills rest assured he's doing just fine.  It's kinda like the first dent in a brand new car.  It may be the first, but it most certainly won't be the last.

For those of you who missed Tommy's tangle with the ceiling fan, you can catch it here.

http://thetestosteroneadventures.blogspot.com/2010/07/just-call-me-if-you-cant-get-bleeding.html

And for those less sensitive individuals, the ceiling fan is also recovering just fine.

Mourning in the Garden

 

In the garden today…

The the corpses remain, the sunflowers with the broken necks stare down at the new seedlings taunting them that they too will soon die

Today in the garden…

The neglected grapes mourned their loss of vigor as they seem to be coming down with something terminal

Today in the garden…

The morning glories mourned their lack of love.  Every morning they put on a spectacular show for me and I’ve never once been out there early enough to see it.  By the afternoon they close up and hide from the unrelenting sun

Today in the garden…

The rosemary mourned the death of Queen, the camera shy spider and protector fending off anyone who might consider harvesting a little rosemary to go along with their dinner. 

  

Today in the garden…

The cherry tree mourned the loss of her overgrown branches and baby cherries after a ruthless groundskeeper gave her a trim when she threatened to block the backyard gate.

Today in the garden…

The carrot patch mourned the sacrifice of one of their children.

Today in the garden…

The watermelons mourned their confinement and planned a subtle escape.

Today in the garden…

An a young rose mourned for his dying mother while she took her last breath. 

Today in the house…

One small boy mourned the loss of an afternoon on his swing set spoiled by a rainstorm. 

Brothers for Life

People often comment on what polite and well mannered boys we have.  I gladly take the compliments but sometimes wonder if they are really referring to the same boys that are currently wrestling in hopes of drawing blood on the living room floor right now.  Excuse me while I diffuse this situation. 

"I don't care what a choke slam is, you don't use that on your brother."

I think Gavin is most happy when Tommy is getting punished for his latest crime and there is nothing more pleasing to Tommy than when he makes Gavin cry.  Some days it seems like they're at it from sun up to sun down.  I often refer to them as the pit bulls when venting to my mom via the telephone.  There are days when, to preserve my own sanity, I have to keep them separated like viscous dogs.  Tommy on one side of the house and Gavin on the other and the two shall not even make eye contact. 

So you can imagine my surprise when I picked them up from the skate park today.  I loaded all the skateboards and scooters and some very sweaty boys into the van and we started home and this is the conversation that followed:

Tommy:  Mom, do you know why I was sad today?
Me:  No, what happened?
Tommy:  You forgot to pack me my Gatorade and didn't pack any money for the Gatorade machine
Me:  Sorry Tommy, why didn't you get a drink from the water fountain?
Tommy:  I kept trying but I'm too short
Me: Why didn't you ask Miss Tammie to help you?
Tommy: Cause Gavin came over to help me
Me: How did Gavin help you?
Tommy:  He laid down on the blacktop and let me climb on his back so I was tall enough
Me: SPEECHLESS...

I couldn't believe it.  There are days when I feel like my children might watch each other drown and not stick out a hand to help.  Just picturing Gavin watching his brother in a this situation and problem solving and then laying down on the super hot blacktop and telling Tommy to climb up.  I wanted to pull the van over and get them out and hug them.  In all reality we were stuck in traffic on the bridge so I just praised them over and over.  They were really concerned when I had tears in my eyes calling Scott to tell him what incredible boys we have.

If true character is the person you are when no one's looking, may be a child's true character is the person they are when their mom isn't there looking over their shoulder.  If that's true then I'm so proud of the little men I'm raising and maybe some of the character building and compassion I'm trying to instill is sinking in.  I wish I could see some of these moments for myself but for now I remain the ref and things are getting pretty heated in the ring. 

"If you guys are gonna continue wrestling you better get outside where I can't see you... NO... NO CHOKE SLAMS"

What's Your Kitchen Sink?

This was mine for about 16 years.  When I tell the boys stories from my childhood, this is the place I draw from.  They have no concept of a house without cable, computers, a giant swing set and more toys than any young boys have business owning.

Growing up in sunny FL, the boys could never imagine sitting in the living room in the middle of January with the wind howling across the frozen lake and feeling a breeze even though the doors and windows are all closed.  Insulation was not really a feature that  was included in this one of a kind house.  Privacy was another issue.  We had no actual bedrooms or bedroom walls anyway.  With three other siblings it was kind of a pain  having a bathroom with no ceiling open to the loft above and a bathroom door with a large hole in it.  Our house was a constant project patch worked together with no consistency or cosmetic appeal. 

This may not sound like fun, but I have nothing but the fondest memories from my humble childhood.  We never went hungry although there were days when we ate most of our meals out of the garden.  We always had new shoes and were allowed to participate in as many extra curricular activities as we desired.  We would however, be required to be picked up in the family cruiser after said extra curricular activities.  This could be a little embarrassing depending on the latest cheap used car we were driving. 

Christmases were small although I never realized this until I was old enough to compare with friends and by that time, I understood.  I recently had a conversation with my mom.  She reminded me of one Christmas when all I wanted was a crystal lamp for my makeshift nightstand.  She bought me one and I kept my tiny faux crystal lamp all the way through high school.  There were years when we had to be the "mitten tree" family.  My older brother Pete received his all time favorite Christmas gift this way.  He loved to take apart and fix things so on his mitten my mom requested small broken household appliances.  The church ladies emptied their cabinets and wrapped up a giant box filled with assorted mixers, toasters, radios and the like.  I'd like to see Gavin or Tommy unwrap a gift like that this Christmas.  Probably wouldn't go over real well. 

Some of the best parts of living in such an informal household stemmed from the lack of rules.  You were allowed to "build" a bedroom wherever you wanted.  This entailed taking the staple gun and a bed sheet and making a wall.  The sheet was stapled to the bare studs and Viola, instant bedroom.  We tied ropes from the loft rafters and would swing out into the living room.  You were allowed to paint anything you wanted, doors, window frames etc...  Unfortunately for most of my childhood we only ever had one bucket of paint so most everything I touched was transformed into sickening turquoise color that I now despise. My little brother volunteered to bring home the baby chicks the kindergarten classroom hatched so my dad built a coop.  While the coop was being built, the chickens lived in the bathtub, try having to unload 12 chickens from your bathtub just to take a shower.  Our "playroom" where my sister and I kept our dolls was an abandoned car across the road that was slowly sinking into a swamp.  My brothers built a bomb in the basement and even detonated it.  That was an exciting day. I had a cockateil that lived in a nest in the rafters, not a cage, a nest.  She was allowed to fly anywhere she desired she was like a watch bird.  She would fly toward and land on the heads of unsuspecting strangers who dared to enter our house.  I think this happened to a police officer once.  What fun!!  We were given the room to be creative and the freedom to do whatever we wanted with what little we had within some very generous guidelines. 

I spent some time here on our last trip up north.  It's for sale now and will most likely be ripped down when it's purchased.  For many years I had no desire to step foot on this property, however, walking through the doors a few months ago I couldn't help but imagine spending the summers up here on the lake here with the boys.  It's such an innocent place.  The northwoods is filled with wholesome, kind hardworking people and the country lake setting is so appealing now that we're living in the middle of the high speed rat race. 

The boys were very excited to see where I grew up.  They charged through the front door, took a few steps in and stopped.  I think it took a minute to take everything in.  The filthy unfinished plank wood floor, the lack of interior walls and the interesting construction were all a little shocking.  After a second or so they were off again, climbing the ladder (yes ladder, who needs steps?) and peeking their heads up into the loft, Gavin commented, "This is dangerous... and I like it."  A sense of adventure is just what these boys need.  They live in such a plush environment now sheltered from anything even slightly uncomfortable.  It's hard to let them be boys when even an innocent bike ride by themselves surely would result in being attacked by a sexual predator.  This is the reality we live in now.  Nothing is innocent my guard is always up and it's hard to have much of a sense of adventure when your mom is hovering over your every move.

I realize that many of the parenting quirks I have come directly from childhood experiences.  I insist on matching bedding for the boys.  Most of my life we had handmade blankets and thin worn non matching sheets.  I would look through the JC Penney catalog entire afternoons trying to picture each one of the matching comforter sets on my hand me down bed.  I always want to have a house that the boys can feel proud to bring their friends home to.  Growing up I shuttered at the thought of inviting the girls in my class for a sleep over.  I would have been humiliated.  I didn't even have plan on  letting Scott see the inside of my house and then one day in high school we got into a snowmobile accident near our house and he had to come in.  I was tempted to make him wait in the driveway while his mom picked him up to bring him to the ER, but he had a dislocated shoulder so it just kind of happened.  I'm sure he was a little surprised but he never brought it up.  This was probably a pretty good sign of his character and a pretty good indicator even at 17 that he was going to be the right person for me marry and build a family with. 

I feel like my boys might be missing out on some of the character building experiences I had growing up.  I learned a lot of great skills growing up the way I did.  Things like how to make a meal with nothing but ingredients from our garden and how to build a fire in a wood stove and how to get ready for school in ten minutes with zero privacy (to this day, Scott takes longer than I do to get ready) and how to sew curtains and scrunchies (yeah we really did this) and how to raise guinea pigs for profit.  Priceless life skills I tell you...Priceless.  Maybe it's not the actual skills that are so important, but the problem solving techniques that were developed when we had to make something out of nothing.  These creative problem solving skills are hard to develop if one never has a problem and if everything is handed to them.  If we wanted money for extra things, we had to earn it.  I spent many Saturdays cleaning the church (and turning the microphone on singing to my imaginary audience at the pulpit and playing the church organ) or helping my Dad and brothers put a dock in for the rich cottage owners, and raising guinea pigs to sell to the pet store (in hindsight, not as profitable as one might imagine, at one point the guinea pigs lived in a dresser, 13 of them).  My boys have no idea what the concept of money is and how one might earn it (other than asking grandpa) or any concept of struggle or embarrassment. 

Here's a pair of curtains I sewed for my mom for Christmas one year.

I created a photo journal of my last visit to my homestead.  It felt important to document the things that were slowly becoming fuzzy in my memory, the magazine pictures hodgepodged to my bedroom wall, the outhouse, and the carpet covered dock.  I hope to preserve some of my experiences by passing them on the my boys, the stories, the skills and the importance of knowing your roots and bettering yourself.  Time to brainstorm.  Turn off I Carly, we're playing board games tonight.

I challenge you today to reminisce about your kitchen sink and cherish some part of your childhood.  We are the people we are today because of our childhood experiences and quite frankly, I kinda like the person I've become.  How about you?

Just Call Me if You Can't Get The Bleeding to Stop

I would love to report that the first real day of second semester went smoothly, but that just wouldn't happen to me now would it?

It started out with a bang!  I'm putting on my shoes in the living room and Scott is dressing and loading four sleeping boys into the van.  He's down to the last one when I hear...WHACK...ERIN GET IN HERE... ERIN HURRY...THERE'S BLOOD EVERYWHERE...I'M SO SORRY TOMMY...

This amazing thing happens to me in these situations.  I curtain of calm falls all around me.  Not just calm, really really calm.  I can think straight, delegate, and prioritize.  Priority number one, assess the victim, priority number two calm down the hysterical husband. 

Tommy looks at me through the blood that's dripping into his wide eyes.  I tell him he's fine, I don't really know that but Scott's worrying enough for all of us right now, I don't need poor Tommy to get scared.  I instruct Scott to grab a towel.  There's too much blood to get a good look.  I apply pressure and talk to Scott.  Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.  Pausing 19 times to apologize, the events tumble out.  He picked up Tommy and threw him over his shoulder to carry him out except he threw him a little high, directly into the twirling blades of the ceiling fan (high speed of course).  Whoops!

I checked the spot, still too much bleeding to see anything.  I did a one handed neuro check and called for the first aid kit.  Our kit is actually a pimped out old tackle box.  It's basically an ICU in a box.  I'm really not joking.  I would have brought home a suture kit if I could have legally obtained some local anesthetic. I was well stocked to say the least. 

I lift the towel one more time and it's slowed enough to see that the gash was deep, probably as deep as you can get on a forehead.  I reassured Tommy again and Gavin came in from the van.  He observed from the bedroom doorway, told Tommy, "it'll be OK" and then told me he'd babysit the little boys in the van.  How mature! I love eight year olds. 

I looked at Scott, still overly anxious, but no longer jumping around, and ask what his plans were for the morning.  I knew I couldn't miss anymore time from school without being kicked out of the nursing program and I already knew his answer.  He owns a Fed Ex route and sick days and emergencies really aren't an option unless they're preplanned.  As usual, no planning or forethought went into this latest mishap.  That being said, be extra nice to your Fed Ex man today if you get any packages and if you notice blood on his hands, don't comment.

I had no time to sit around weighing the pros and cons.  We were late. bleeding and now I had blood all over my scrubs.  This is when I hate being a mom.  Making decisions when no one is going to win, when there isn't a right answer.  I didn't put my family through hell for the last 9 mos just to let it be a waste of time when I'm dismissed from nursing school.  There is no back up driver for Scott and the packages pile up and customers complain and we lose money if they aren't delivered immediately.  I guess  everyone loses today!

I thoroughly cleaned, bandaged and pressure dressed the wound in a sterile fashion (thanks Mrs Marshall) and reassessed.  I assured Scott for the millionth time that he wasn't going to win worst dad of the year for this and kissed him goodbye.  We loaded up in the van and headed South.  Either to Mrs Tammie's (daycare/2nd mother) or the ER.  I would decide when we got closer.  By the time we got to Tammie's, it still hadn't bled through the dressing so I unloaded the kids and brought them inside.  I did another quick assessment and explained the incident to Miss Tammie.  She didn't even bat an eye.  This is one of the many reasons we love her.  We would have been kicked out of a real daycare a long time ago.  I gave her instructions and told her to call me if she couldn't get the bleeding to stop. 

I left feeling like the worst mom in the world.  This is a common feeling these days.  Luckily I made it through six hours of labor and delivery clinicals without receiving a page to the emergency room.  I did receive however receive hourly picture texts showing me the status of the dressing. 

We made it home just as a huge storm rolled in and knocked out our power for the next six hours.  I had to do my last dressing change by the light of the I phone flashlight app.  Thanks Apple, this app really comes in handy when you live in a house with nine flashlights and no batteries. 

I'm happy to report the wound is healing nicely and even open to air today.  To add to my list of charity patients, during our power outage, Finn cut his foot pretty bad on a glass he smashed in the dark kitchen.  Business is good at Erin's Emergency Wound Care Clinic.

Most of you that know me are probably scrolling down to find the picture as you know I would classify a good head wound as a fabulous photo op.  However, Scott mentioned to me yesterday that he left our camera charger in Wisconsin on his last vacation.
Hmmmmm...
Maybe need to reconsider that Father of the Year nomination.

It's July 26th, Do You Know Where You're Supposed to Be?

Last night we shifted into high gear as we got the boys ready for their first day back to Miss Tammie's (family daycare).  We've spent the last two weeks home together while I'm on break from school.  I soaked up all the quality time and fun we've had in hopes of mentally getting through this last semester. 

Scott grocery shopped for cold lunch food and laid out clothes and packed diaper bags and skateboards and helmets and found all the shoes.  Quite a feat when we've spent the last two weeks barefoot.  We were on break from the classroom, but unfortunately not from homework.  We had to read most of our labor and delivery nursing text and fill out the corresponding homework for 12 long chapters.  I had to type a paper, create a presentation, two visual aids and make about 60 different drug cards.  As most of you know I'm a bit of a procrastinator.  Needless to say, I worked furiously and was up till 2:45.  I laid down just long enough on the sofa to have a bad dream.  I opened my eyes only to see it was 4:45 and time to get up.  My heart still racing from my dream, I packed up all my school stuff and got ready.  Scott woke up all the little boys, fed them, dressed them, put them in their car seats and packed the van.  I made three separate trips to the van with all my school stuff  I kissed Scott in the driveway and we were off.

Back in our old routine.  No sleep, no time, no fair!  I drove in the dark to Tammie's, woke her up, piled four sleepy boys on her sofa and I was off to school. 

I pulled in the parking lot and scored a great parking spot.  I never get that lucky.  I unpacked the van, arms full and headed into school.  It was surprising that none of my classmates beat me this morning.  It was far too quiet and not nearly enough people were in the halls.  Then came that weird panicky feeling and I started to question everything.  Where is everyone?  Slowly I connected the dots. none of my classmates had returned my six am texts, no other students yet, empty parking lot.  I walked back toward the doorway with all my books and poster boards and ask the front desk what day third semester starts.  "Tomorrow", she replied.  Sigh...  Tomorrow, of course it starts tomorrow...  That's why I stayed up cramming till quarter to three and woke up my entire family and hauled them across town and wasted Scott's time with all the packing...  Tomorrow... Sigh...

In a huff, I called Scott.  Can you believe it?  Scott wasn't nearly as upset as me.  His attitude was, awesome, go pick up the kids and do something fun.  He was right this was a free day.  Nothing due, no where to go, nothing more to study.  Today was like found money. 

I received a few texts from my sleepy classmates on the way to Tammie's.  I scooped up the boys and we headed home.  Then very best part happened.  I lowered Petey down from my hip onto the ground... 

and...

and...

he took his first few steps.  Had I sent him to Miss Tammie's all day, I would have missed it. 
Yay Petey, Yay me!!!  So I've spend my found day smiling at this chunky, unsure, excitable, wobbly little walker.  24 hours lost somewhere between the last day of vacation and the first day of third semester.  Happy Monday to all of you out there who know where you're supposed to be today.  Happy Monday!

17 Days Sober (free of corndogs)

After returning from a two week north woods men's vacation, Scott was amazed and I think a little impressed that the boys went through a box of 63 corn dogs.  WHAT??? I knew Gavin has some serious dietary curiosities, but 63 corn dogs in two weeks?  I was appalled.

Upon their return, we had to buy a box of 16 because I knew sudden withdrawal might lead to serious side effects.  I see this in the ICU with alcoholics and illicit drug abusers.  We have no choice but to tie and drug them to get them through withdrawals.  I don't own any pediatric restraints so I decided a step down approach was most appropriate.

With each corn dog I made, in the microwave of course, I was more disgusted.  Toxic radioactive snack on a treated wooden stick activated by the microwave's free radical producing waves.  OK, so in reality, maybe not going to kill the kids, but really bad when that's all they're eating.

So here goes.  I have been detoxing my family over the last two weeks.  We've come along way, but we still have an epic journey ahead of us.  I made up a few guidelines to start us down the right path.

Week One:
     Every meal will be eaten at the kitchen table at a meal time
     The kitchen will be closed in between meals
     You will eat what is served
     I always make sure you like some part of the meal
     You will not cry just because I put something on your plate that you hate or are scared of
     NO CORN DOGS!

With just these few rules, some amazing things happened.  I think we've sung grace about 60 times in the last few weeks.  I haven't found anything moldy under the sofa and anything sticky on the end table.  Scott and I are eating less (more mindful I guess) and the boys are all eating more.  The quality of the food we're eating has went waaaaaay up.  I think it might be a pride thing.  No mom wants to prepare, cook, set the table, call the family and then have some lame disappointing processed meal to present.  We've also had some very interesting real family conversations. 

Week Two Guidelines:
     Every meal will have at least 2 servings of fruits and vegetables
     Everyone will try everything on their plates
     Everyone will clear their own dishes and clean up their own spots

Even more amazing things happened the second week.  Gavin's list of foods he'll eat has doubled.  New foods that he actually likes include Cheeseburgers (not super healthy I know, but this boy has never ate beef in all of his 8 years of life), cauliflower and kiwi fruit.  The list of foods he'll tolerate is even bigger.  I think now I could even put a dead rat on his plate and he would just eat around it without having a complete meltdown.  A variation of this may actually make a fun practical joke.  I'm spending a lot more time in the kitchen, which is probably one of the most wholesome places to spend time as a mom.  People are even clearing their own spots occasionally without me asking.  Yay family!

Week Three starts next week.  If they feel challenged now, it's gonna get way tougher.  I found something that's called "clean" eating.  In a nutshell (you can probably eat nutshells while eating clean)  it eliminates all processed, empty calorie, fast, junkie, microwave fun kid type foods.  So tons of fruits and veggies, lots of lean cuts of meat, eggs and whole grains.  Think food 50 years ago, eating everything the way it occurs in nature.  Baked potatoes, not potato chips, fresh tomato, not ketchup.  You get the idea.  We already buy pretty much all our produce and dairy organic and that will continue.  We're supposed to focus on local produce.  This means the garden needs to go into overdrive.  I continue to research clean eating recipes and have started cooking some of them.  Last night we had green cauliflower (some kind of broccoli/cauliflower combo), fresh green beans and chicken kiev.  I normally buy the kievs frozen, but last night we made our own.  Consequently, my new fav kitchen gadget is the mallet.  Why haven't I ever owned one of these before? 

New guidelines for week three are hopefully going to include some of the following:
     No negotiating before the food even reaches the table
     Older children need to set a good example, no "I hate fill in the blank" statements
     No sugar (I say this as I take the last drink of the last can of Mountain Dew)
     No white flour (gulp), we already use whole wheat pasta, but clean is a whole new level
    
Next week the kids go back to daycare and I go back to school so that could get interesting.  The usual Lunchables aren't gonna fly anymore.  Some of the clean eating blogs mention having a free meal every week.  I've decided that Friday nights will be free.  I'm already thinking about what cheat foods we might feast on. 

So out with some of the old habits and in with some new ones.  I worry that next week with school things will get overwhelming and I will be tempted to revert to our quick cooking snacky ways, but I hope that blogging will hold me a little more accountable.  You'll hear next week the good, bad and even the ugly.  Hopefully more good than ugly. 
    
    
   

In The Garden Today

In the garden today the brittle elderly sunflowers are acknowledging their death.  I didn't have the heart to pull them yet...

In the garden today, the latest group of baby cukes are winding their vines over anything that will hold still (including the senior sunflowers)...

In the garden today, the hibisci (I'm sure that's the plural form) are floating on the breeze...

In the garden today, the roses are having a beauty contest...

In the garden today, I crowned this one the winner...

In the garden today, the goldfish are swimming...

In the garden today, the lemons are smiling...

In the garden today, the banana hands are sun bathing...

In the garden today, Queen met her King

(FYI, spiders are super hard to photograph, partially because I am sooooo scared of them and partially because my camera is, I have a really hard time focusing on them,)

Behind the Scenes

Sometimes the perfect photo requires alot more than a spontaneous snap of my camera.  If I'm not takeing candids, the pose has to be thought up (sometimes this just happens naturally) and the boys have to be dressed (if it's something planned), and the spotters have to be in place

The spotters let go, I snap as many pictures as I can before it looks like someone might fall.

Eventually one of the modesl falls...

The slow to react spotter comes back in and attempts to save the smaller model...

The models end up in a heap on the ground.  I do an assessment and look for injuries.  Most of my photo shoots end up with my in a heap on the ground, either crying or wrestling or just shocked from falling out of trees.  So sometimes 30 seconds of shooting can end up taking an hour.

Our Beach, No, Our Party Trip

"This is why we love Erin, she'll do the craziest things and she's such a good talker.  This one time..." 
A friend of mine was describing me to a new acquaintance the other day and decided to tell her some of the impulsive things I've done.  It made me laugh remembering this one particular situation, so I'll share.

It was the middle of a super hot FL summer and I was taking the boys to the beach.  We had no entertainment budget at the time, so the beach was pretty much it.  We're beach regulars and by this time we knew all the best "kid" beaches to go to.  Kid beaches are similar to dog beaches.  You have to find a beach where you won't bother anyone, where your kids can run, throw sand and scream and where all the other beach patrons can run in a pack with yours and do all the same things.  Unlike the dog beach, it's probably illegal at the kid beach to keep the really badly behaving ones on a leash or at least with a muzzle. We found a little hidden spot that fit and had been frequenting it often.  This particular day, we turned off the main road onto the small side road.  As we passed Lazy Days Resort, a gated community for the rich, tan and wrinkled over the age of 120, I noticed a big sign.  10th anniversary party today, members only. 

Without even thinking I turned in and pulled up to the guard gate.  I rolled down the window.
Guard: Hi Mam, where's your sticker?
Me: I'm here for the party.
The guard scans my van full of children (this is an over 55 community)
Me: I'm Delores's granddaughter ( in a community of this size, there must be an ample amount of Delori), I'm offering demonstrations on children's first aid and CPR, you know for their grand kids, it's part of the party
Guard: Oh, didn't know they were doin that
Me: (I see a group of women's tap dancers warming up), I'm on after the dancers
Guard: Alright, go ahead then, have fun

They boys are getting excited as we find a parking spot.  The entire clubhouse and parking lot have been turned into a Luau complete with a group of hula dancers taking the stage.  Worst case scenario, I'll have to do a small demo on how to apply pressure to a bleeding wound (in my beach attire, but that's beside the point).  Best case scenario, we lay low, have tons of fun, eat lots of great FREE food, watch some 70 year old hula dancers and party with 400 of my closest friends over the age of 60.

Here's one of the dance club demos.  This place had 3 or 4 dance teams made up of community members.  So all you cheerleaders and high school dance team members I know a great place you can live in about 60 years.

Well, the plan for laying low didn't really work, but I never had to go up on stage either.  We were very popular which was a slight problem.  Everyone wanted to know who we belonged to.  I stuck with random Delores.  You know, she lives over there, always gesturing a different direction.  When people wanted more information I said things like, you know she has that gray cat, she walks with a cane and drives her golf cart everywhere.  I can see from the parking lot that 300 of the 400 guest have driven their golf carts to the party.  People seemed to buy it and several people even claimed to know her. 

Mom why do all the old guys pull there pants up so high?   Like this.  He danced like this for awhile until I realized he didn't wear any undies today and his little man parts where hanging out.


We enjoyed the party atmosphere for several hours and then it was time to eat.  Everyone got in line, so we followed.  As we neared the front of the line I could see that people were handing tickets to the caterers behind the table.  When it was our turn, I said to Gavin, hand the woman our tickets.  Gavin looked at me, what tickets? You know the blue food tickets I gave you to hold onto?  Gavin's eyes got wide, I don't know.  Check your pockets honey.  This went on for about 45 seconds before the woman behind the counter insisted we just go ahead and eat.  She could hardly stand the thought of Gavin feeling bad about losing the tickets (that we never had).  I apologized profusely, dang kids!  We had a lovely lunch.

Here's baby Tommy eating a giant hotdog of somesort.  In hindsight, probably shouldn't have let him eat this without cutting it up.  But I was here for a first aid demo right?  Folks, gather around as I demonstrate the Heimlich maneuver.

Afterward, Gavin and Tommy danced while we sat and watched the tappers.  We were full, the boys were tired and we'd been entertained.  As we said our goodbyes, several of our elderly pals insisted we return next year for the party.  I assured them we would, and even considered it briefly.  But knew that once the boys told Scott, we would never be allowed to leave the house again.   The cater ran up to us as we were about to leave and handed me several containers of left overs.  She insisted we bring them home to feed these hungry boys who were just sooooo polite.  I thanked her repeatedly and loaded them into the van with all of my first aid demo models. 

We loaded up and drove back through the guard gate.  The guard waved goodbye and yelled, how'd it go?  Great, just great! 

So we headed home, no sandy feet, no sunburn and no stinky shells.  Just some happy, full, satisfied boys and a van full of Luau food.  So much for no entertainment budget.  This sure beat going to the beach.  Happy Anniversary Lazy Days.  Happy Anniversary!!!

Meet Queen.  I found her in my garden this week while weeding.  She's set up a lovely web right in the middle of my rosemary.  I'm not exactly sure how I feel about her yet, but I think we'll try to come up with a working relationship.  I'm not a spider person in general, but I feel like she has just as much of a right to be in the garden as I do.  I've identified her and it appears she's fairly harmless although super creepy.  So, welcome to the garden I guess. 

Circling the Drain... Alone

It was an hour past the end of my shift, I tried to leave several times, but just kept going back.  Something drew me back to his room.  Torn between what I know I need to do and what I know my family needs me to do.  Four little boys and an exhausted lonely husband don't usually understand why I can't walk out the ICU doors at the end of my shift and come home to them on time. 

I said goodnight as I held his hand.  I didn't pretend that everything was OK.  I'm getting more comfortable with silence and the role it plays prior to an impending death.  Tonight I let the silent moments lead our conversation and it finally feels right, not awkward, not uncomfortable.  Maybe I'm becoming a nurse.  I like when the situations I read about in the nursing texts actually materialize in front of my eyes.  I stroked his forehead with the thumb of one gloved hand.  He begged me to call his wife and tell her how much he loved her and how much he has enjoyed his 63 years with her.  I promised him I would.  As I turned to go, he called me back to his bedside.  Don't call her tonight, wait till the morning.  If you call her now, she'll try to drive here and she doesn't see well in the dark and she gets confused.  It's not safe. 

He would rather die alone than put his wife at any risk.  That's true selflessness, putting your spouses needs in front of your own even in your very last hour. 

It was my bedtime hours ago, but I can't sleep.  So I will say a prayer for him and his wife and wonder if we'll have an empty bed in the morning and dare to dream that maybe just maybe I'll walk into his room in the morning and stroke his forehead with my thumb and say Good Morning. 

Good Night