No Underwear

So it wouldn't be right if we didn't at least pop in to say hello to an ER doc over our Memorial Day weekend camping adventure.  We had almost made it to one year after all.  One year.  Without a visit.  To an emergency room.  Or a ride in an ambulance.  Almost.  But not quite.  Sigh Giggle.   We'll try again next year.  Try.  And try again.  Fail more times than we try.  Laugh a lot.  Smack myself in the head often.  Then think about trying again.  I like to think about trying tomorrow.  Just call me Scarlett.

We thought Grady broke his foot.  Again.  Never mind the communicable looking disease that was making it's way up his arm.  When the triage nurse asked why we were there, we pointed to his foot.  Then mentioned his arm.  So which are you here for?  She wanted to know.  Well, the foot.  And while we're here...could you check out the arm?   We were those people.  As always. 

The kid hadn't bathed in nearly four days.  Unless you count creek water.  Which I do.  His diet had consisted of Airheads, Sour Patch Kids, a case of soda, and some orange juice out of a wine glass. 

Grady had to remove his pants for the x-ray.  I cringed.  I knew what was coming.  Surprise!  For them.  Not for me.  No underwear.  Because not one kid in our family wears underwear.  Not one.  Ever.  I made a rule that everyone wears underwear to school.  But I forgot the rule a couple of days after I made it.  Who can remember all these rules anyway.  And alas, it wouldn't have helped.  Preschool graduation was last week.

The foot wasn't broken.  No one knew what the hell the rash was.  Poisoning by sugar is my diagnosis.  But no one ever listens to me.  Because I wear underwear.

The weekend ended with me falling into the lake.  With my camera.  The camera was fine.  Saved by the case.  Which was soaked.  Then I put the camera back into the wet case.  Because I wear underwear.  And suffer from a communicable disease.  Called Dumbassness.   I won't tell you who I caught it from.

Grady did eventually walk on his foot again.  After being carried around for the day by his twelve year old camp girlfriend.  That kid's got game.  And communicable diseases.  But no underwear.  He'll be just fine. 

Origin of the communicable disease.

A Girlfriend...and a Wife

I need them.  The troops that is.  To help me pack.  Three days, three children, a dog, and a husband.  The Barnum's are going camping.  Our annual Memorial Day weekend tradition. This morning, Lillian graduated from preschool.  Then we pumped gas, bought Dempsey new shoes (he's been going hippie style for about a week now), shopped at Sam's Club, went to Safeway, and to the liquor store.  I was so frazzled by our last stop, I wanted to lick the liquor at the liquor store. Taste before buying.

 I have packed 16 t-shirts, 7 pairs of pants, 6 long sleeved shirts, 4 sweat shirts,  7 swim suits, 14 pairs of shorts, 5 sets of pajamas, 8 pairs of underwear, 3 pairs of boots, 4 pairs of socks, a pair of running shoes, running clothes, 3 sleeping bags, a set of sheets, a quilt, a pillow, two pillow pets, a pack and play, a pack and play sheet, 3 bath towels, 2 beach towels, 2 lanterns, 3 flashlights, a potty seat, four hockey sticks, balls, trucks, bug houses, diapers, wipes, glow sticks, sand toys, 16 tiny boxes of cereal,  20 juice boxes, 8 milk boxes, 72 eggs, a pound of cheese, 40 tortillas, salsa, 5 pounds of sausage, 2 portable DVD players, 8 DVD's, an Innotab, 2 Leapsters, an iPad, paper, crayons, a hiking back pack, an Ergo Carrier, dog food, marshmallows, plates, trash bags, forks, knives, spoons, chips, fruit, vegetables, almonds, AND....wait for it...wait for it...beer...and Maker's Mark.

We talk about who will be camping with us.  I mention Uncle Chris.  "You mean hilarious, silly Uncle Chris?"  Lil asks.  "He's so funny, I call him hilarious. Hilarious means even funnier than funny."  She says.  I tell her his girlfriend Christel will be there too.  "Well if Christel is his girlfriend, then who is his wife?" Lillian wanted to know.  What?  You didn't learn about that in preschool?  You did graduate this morning right?  You may just have to give that diploma back.  You are obviously not ready for the world.  As they promised when they cashed that check every month.  Or maybe you are more ready than we thought.  Depending upon how you look at it.  However, just so you know,  it's sort of frowned upon to have both.  Let's talk about the smores.  In Lillian's final evaluation for the year, her teacher commented "She makes me laugh and enjoys playing jokes in the class."  In other words, she's hilarious.  Even funnier than funny.

Last night, Sean and I worked on our preschool graduation gift.  A fabulous idea from a friend.  A Dum Dum flower pot.  It required a Styrofoam ball.  No time to go to Michael's, Seany grabbed some foam from a 20 year old dead plant at work.   We painted a flower pot, stuck the pops in, and were very impressed with ourselves. Maybe it was the beer.  The kids didn't even know what it was.  Lil pulled it out of the bag and they all just screamed POPS!

Lil makes me laugh too, and I do appreciate her jokes.  But somehow, I think the jokes on us.

Happy Memorial Day to my heros... Sean, Butch, Chris B., Chris C., Pop-Pop Jim, Pop-Pop Rudy, Uncle Jimmy, Andy, Jeff and Pat.  You guys rock.  Enjoy your day.

I made her act like she knew what it was.

Taped the 20 year old foam together

We should have just wrapped up the beer.