See Under the Tuscan Sun.

I probably could have made it. I might have been able to endure a 2 week long multi-state road trip alone with my 4 kids. Really, after all, Adam only peed in his booster seat once during the first leg of the trip. Who cares if, when Grace slipped her sweet little foot into her soft pink croc, it was FULL OF URINE. Oh well, I thought. We’ve just been on the road less than an hour. “Things will get better,” said the optimist in me. But soon, it became fairly clear that my new dream car turned nightmare is too small. One whole passenger seat too small. “How will I break this to their father?” I thought. Maybe he would rather I simply stay gone. Come to think of it, I would prefer it over having that conversation with him. Why couldn’t someone have suggested to me that this beautiful SUV would soon be full of sand, small sticky handprints, legos, chewed up chewing gum!, crumbs, scratched (still new) DVDs, and don’t forget: PISS. Because as of a half hour ago, Eli has whizzed in it too! What is it with boys and peeing! This time his stream ran beyond the all-weather mats I ‘wheeled and dealed’ for and filled up the new DVD remote control! Now that’s fun. Shaking pee out of a clicker. There should be a disclaimer for all moms considering new kid mobiles. If you can’t bear the thought of anyone peeing in this car–DO NOT BUY IT. Shouldda gone with the date car, honey. You were right.

First I want to say I am (or maybe, was) oh-so-glad that my eight year old daughter is still totally into Barbies. In fact, so much so that she gladly parted with 14 of her diligently saved dollars to buy Barbie, beautiful lady of the sparkly lavender dress and matching accessories, complete with “bendy” hands and elbows. We’ve been just googling over her for hours and this afternoon, Gigi took her to the stuff mart for more “Glam Getaway” wardrobe additions. But. Hear this. Barbie is a naughty girl. Apparently, she doesn’t wear panties. At all. No, not even a thong. Commando all the way. I’m sorry but this is unacceptable. Just when I thought my daughter was wholesome and innocent, still playing with Barbie dolls, I discover that these dolls are simply lying in wait, ready to get jumped by Ken to honor some pregnancy pact they’ve made with 16 other Barbie pals.

I’ve kept you in suspense long enough. Night before last, my husband and I were sleeping oh so soundly, when out of the quiet darkness, the smallest feet in the house hit the floor. And there’s panic in the crying. Mr. E has to pee. He’s flipping out. Running all over the place holding himself. I convince him to come downstairs, get him on the toilet and he refuses to get up. That was 2:50 a.m. There’s whining, crying, carrying on and then at 2:57 a.m. we hear in the most pitiful of voices, “I want to touch the ceiling.” Whuh? I think to myself. You want to whuh? It’s 3 o’clock in the morning! No “drink of water” — watch t.v. — oatmeal? He wants to touch the friggin ceiling! Of course once Daddy got to him, he’d changed his mind and I think he simply wandered back to bed. At least that’s the way I remember it. I’m telling you folks, you just can’t make this stuff up.

And I thought, probably for more than just the second time, that things couldn’t possibly get any wierder in life with 4.  But, alas!  Wrong again.  I think though, before I get carried away with strange stories of my kids, I’ll recap my 20th high school reunion.

It was an absolute BLAST.  No kidding.  The 10th?  Eh.  But number two oh.  WHOA!  What a hoot.  I enjoyed myself to the hilt!  There were fat people, practically bald people.  People with 5 KIDS!  Skinny people.  Drunk people.  SOBER people.  MILFs, cougars, you name it.  They were all there. And they all know who they are.  Then there were the people who WEREN’T there.  And that was sad.  Some have passed on, some are deployed to active duty across the world.  And some are ill.  One of my choir/BTO mates is terminally ill.  So I pray pray pray for her.

But overall, it was TERRIFIC.  Positively wonderful to catch up with everybody after such a long time.  Share shoes, makeup, beauty tips, flat irons & stories of life over the past 20 years.  My best advice, take care of yourself and leave your spouse at home when you head to your reunion.  It’s more fun for everybody!