mi frizz es su frizz

It’s hot here.  It’s so hot and sticky and uncomfortable that when you’re in the shade and it’s a cool 99 degrees, you think you’re happy. You are delusional my friend. It’s still awful. I’ve made thinking about, complaining about, whining about the weather a full-time job.  That’s probably because my kids are both away so I have to fill my days obsessing about other things. Although I’m doing so much better than last year – here’s my camp tale from last year incase you missed it!

https://wifemothereventplanner.com/2012/07/22/hello-muddah-hello-faddah/

Anyway – back to the present. Because my nights aren’t spent bossing kids around or driving kids around or driving them crazy – I’ve been doing fun stuff. Stuff like not doing the laundry. Do you know how much fun you can have when you don’t do laundry? I’ve also been not cooking, not cleaning, and not leaving the house. It’s been a hoot.

I’ve also gone totally nuts and started using my kids’ bathroom. Note to self: add “having your own bathroom” to your list of things to look forward to when the kids move out. Ofcourse part of the fun of using their bathroom is using their products. Truthfully it’s my daughter’s products. My son uses whatever bottle he finds to wash everything from his hair to his toes. He once used just conditioner for a whole week. True story.

So while plundering her products – I discovered this little beauty.

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If you have sleek, smooth, frizz free hair – don’t use this product. But if you, like me, dream of the non-brillo head without a straightening iron – this is for you! If you read this blog regularly (thank you so much if you do) – you know that I have been trying to go “free” with my hair. No products. No blow-outs. No nothin’. It’s been rough. I’ve been wearing a lot of headbands. And hats. And paper bags.

After one use of this amazing, great smelling product, here’s what my hair looked like. Air dried. No products. I swear on my blog.

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Come on! Where’s the frizz??  Not here baby!!

Camp, Closure

The kids have been home from camp enjoying the air conditioning.  They are full of camp songs, camp stories and camp bug bites.

Here’s how the pick-up went for my son:

He leapt to his feet, ran toward me and covered me with hugs and kisses.  He told me he missed me SO much and he was SO happy to see me. He may have said stuff to my husband but I couldn’t hear it.   He led us to his cabin to get all his stuff. I couldn’t take a picture of what I found there – I thought the counselors would be insulted. It was a hellhole. Smelly, sandy, clothes and half eaten bags of food everywhere.  It was like 8 boys had lived in a small, cramped space with no female intervention for 2 weeks. All his things would later be fumagated or burned.

I asked him to describe camp to me in 3 words, he said: Awesome, Fun, and Adventure.

Here’s the cabin – outside, it looks clean and welcoming. Inside, it was a disease factory. Too harsh?

Here’s his crew – not all these boys fit into his cabin – even though it smelled and felt like they did.   Look at all the cute, unwashed faces! My dirty birdy is sitting in the front, wearing a Ghostbuster’s tee.  I imagine all the counselors thinking,”yep, your kid didn’t brush his teeth once during the 2 weeks he was here!”.

Next we headed over to pick-up his sister.  Because his welcome was so gushy and mushy – hers was a shock to our system. I think my husband is scarred.

She was in a huddle with all the girls, crying, weeping, dare I say – wailing. “We’ve been through so much!” “I love you! I love you!” “Please keep in touch with me hourly!”.  It was so touching.  As a former teen girl myself, I was not phased at all.  This is all normal stuff.  Infact, this is how we left Block Island after my girls weekend a few weeks ago, “I don’t wanna go home!!!”.

Her daddy was like a deer in headlights. He didn’t know where to look or what to do. It was hysterical!  On the way home she told us that she can’t wait to go back  – and oh, by the way, there’s a winter session she’d like to do. Oh boy.

Her 3 words to describe her time: Challenging, Fun and Memorable.

Here’s a picture of her forever friends.  Note – her duffle bag and things were basically immaculate. It was like a before/after comparison with her brother’s stuff. Typical. That’s her with the sweatpants…oh, they all have sweatpants. That’s her with the tshirt….ugh. Ok – I know. She’s the one with the silly face on. Also typical.

Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah

Letters! We got letters from both kids!  One was fantastic – and one makes my heart hurt. Guess who wrote which?

Here’s my daughter’s letter – full of honesty and excitement and positive thinking.  I did so good with her.  My husband played a part too, I guess. She commented on the food because I’ve been asking in all my letters. I need to know!  I plan on giving her 1,000 kisses when she gets home.

Now for the other letter.  My boy must have had a tough week.  My husband read the note and laughed – hard. I read the note and felt sick to my stomach. I read the note and felt like driving to get him that very second.  I read the note and had some wine.

Only 3 things kept me from scooping him out of camp today and tucking him into bed with me:

1) the letter was sent on Tuesday. I’m hoping things got better and happier.

2) homesickness is common among campers the first few days, it’s normal, it doesn’t mean he feels unloved, abandoned and alone.

3) my husband wouldn’t let me go get him.

Here’s his letter.  Notice the line about crying.  Twice.  Lord. Help. Me.

(not sure what he means by losing his “hamper” and that I’ll have to wash the clothes? sob sob)

Pizza Palooza

 

We dropped the kids off 48 hours ago.  This post is not about the kids. But did I mention that I miss the kids? Waaaaa.

Since then my husband and I have been living like frat boys (except for the annoying jobs that we can’t ignore) – there’s been no cleaning,  no cooking, no making our beds, nothing.  We’ve had pizza for 4 meals so far.  Only two of our meals have contained a vegetable (there was some arugula on one of the pizzas so I’m counting that as one).  Does the wheat in beer count as fiber intake? Is having a persecco-a-day the same thing as having an apple-a-day?

Last night we decided to drive 20 minutes to try a new grocery store. Cause we could. Ok – so maybe frat boys don’t do that. And we have showered and brushed out teeth daily – so no need to panic.

I was planning on doing a cooking post this week.  Not going to happen.  Maybe I’ll do a “cereal of the night” post.

I feel like I’ve already gained 5 pounds.

Here’s some photos of our balanced pizza diet – are you jealous or are you worried for us? Don’t tell me.

Camp Sob Sob

I’ve been out of sorts. Not myself. A little distracted.  My kids left for camp today.  I won’t see them, hear them, hug them, kiss them, yell at them for 2 weeks. For the last 2 days I’ve been running around trying to pack all the necessary things they need to replace my love…err…I mean…to survive in the woods.  We packed and labeled all 1,000 items.  We talked about appropriate vs. inappropriate behavior (telling jokes, appropriate. burping jokes, not appropriate.)

So the boy said goodbye to the cat, the girl said goodbye to her phone – and they were ready.

I’ve been pretending to be really excited and happy – and I am. A little. But I’m also insanely, out-of-my-mind nervous for them.  I’ve had a sick, twisted feeling for days. This can’t be right. Dropping your kids off in the middle of the wood with no electricity to total strangers? I must be nuts. I’ve been trying to talk to my husband about it but he’s too busy looking up all the movies we’re going to see and restaurants we’ll be trying. I always knew I loved them more.

In defense of my husband’s total lack of freak out, I’ll say this  – he went to camp his whole childhood. He loved it – went with all the his cousins and stayed for weeks.  Now here’s a shocker. I did not. I stayed home all summer and caught up on General Hospital and Family Feud.  The closest I came to camp was a job as a counselor one summer – but that was for a long weekend and I was 18.

A girlfriend of mine told me about a New York Times article on “parental campsickness”.  I read the piece. I fit every broad generalization they made.  I’m a cliché. I don’t care.

I have been trying very hard not to make the kids nervous and anxious with all my issues – so I decided to focus on the positive (they’ll have so much fun I’ll have to drag them out of camp!) and not the negative (there are 2,867 ways to die in the woods, really).

I decided to write the kids letters they could read on the first night at camp – filled with advice, love and dried tears.

And off we went.

The camp was beautiful – the girls on one side of the lake – and the boys on the other.

The first camp challenge:  you must learn to pronounce your camp names! Good luck with that.

 

The kids found their cabins and met their groups – and I held it together almost the whole time.

This is what I found on the kitchen table when I got home.  The letters I was supposed to sneak to the counselors so the kids could get mail tonight at dinner.  Typical.  Keepin’ it real.