No more Double-Dog Dares

Even though I was the older (and supposedly wiser) sibling, Jimmy could always get me to do anything. He'd double-dog dare me, give me his best "Uncle Bobby shit-eatin' grin," promise to come along, and then off I'd go, my better judgment and any fears left behind. Years of my "personal scientific experiments" proved to me, he really was the only one to be trusted without reservation. Our adventures were never too dangerous because he always offered to go along, and he wasn't cruel, so whatever he had in store for me usually ended up being a blast once I put my eldest-child phobias and fears aside. So there I was yesterday at Darien Lake, being cajoled by my eldest to get on the Superman roller coaster. Feet planted firmly on solid ground, I stared up at the highest point of the coaster — 200 feet in the air — knowing I'd never get on it of my own accord and the only person who could possibly convince me to strap myself in next to him for the ride was gone from my life forever.

It's the little things like this that trip me on my road through grief. Something so benign as a roller coaster I have no interest in riding, makes me catch my breath and I see another hole in the fabric that's me created by Jimmy's absence.

The Tower of Terror - Disney World 2003

"Just having a little fun with you" said the Cosmic God

12:55pm Sunday afternoon. The first of Sean's classmates arrives, the storm clouds gather and it starts to rain! It continues to rain as the rest of the class arrives, and just for fun, the Cosmic God (which I just told my neighbor Brian didn't exist during our euchre game the other night when he and Mark started to get a little "uppity" with their winning hands) threw in a single clap of thunder. I was getting pretty worried as all of us huddled under our 24'x12' canopy. Thankfully, the Cosmic God was just having a little fun with me and the single rain cloud in the sky passed by in about 20 minutes. By 12:50, it was sunny and warm and the kids were enjoying the pool.

It appeared to me that the kids had a lot of fun. They ate, ran around, swam, had a whiffle ball game with Mr. Michalski, and even convinced my daughter to fill water balloons for them. The three hours passed very quickly. I met a lot of nice parents, which as your children get older you find you don't know the parents like you did when they were in Kindergarten and just about every mom or dad volunteered in the school. I'm sure Sean will remember for a long time that we had the end-of-the-year party at his house. I'm glad we did it. And Gloria Gaynor was correct - I did survive. :-)

I think I've finally gone over the edge!

I want to start this post by saying right up front - "I'm not a big fan of children." Oh, I love mine well enough, and I adore my niece and nephew, but in general I just don't care for them. I imagine my feelings towards children is how many people view exercise or vegetables...something necessary for health and life, but you'd much rather sit on your butt watching TV and having a big old bacon-blue cheeseburger or piece of double-chocolate chunk cake.

So what then, besides I've absolutely LOST MY MIND, would possess me to sign up to host the end of the year party for Sean's 4th grade class? Yet, there I was, back in October at open house saying to Mark "Oh look - Mr. Michalski would like to have an end of the year pool party for the class. Wanna do it?" And my dear husband, who doesn't care for children any more than I do, said "Sure, why not?!" Well, if truth be told, I think his response was more like "Are you sure?" Then I think he was just so shocked I suggested it, he said "Why not."

"Why not?" I say. Because here we are two days before 25 4th graders, about 6 parents, and one teacher, are ready to descend upon my home and IT'S GOING TO RAIN! And not just a nice summer shower late in the afternoon. It's going to be cloudy and thunderstorm. Now what?

I'm a bit strange in that I have rules. I've made up these rules based on years of personal scientific experiments. For example, NEVER, EVER get in a grocery line with a male running the register - even if his line is totally empty and all the others snake around the store for miles. Invariably, I'm enticed into breaking this rule, I end up being the last one through all the lines, all my groceries are smashed in the bags, and I end up saying to myself "I have rules for a reason. Why, oh why, don't I follow them?"

My scientific experiment for my "don't ever have children for a party in your home" rule comes from way back. 1996 - Kirsten's 4th birthday. I decide to have a fun girly birthday party at our house. I invite a dozen little girls who arrive totally decked out in dress up clothes, hats, mom's high heel shoes, etc... But it's okay because I have a plan. I've enlisted my new sister-in-law to come over and help me paint finger nails and toes. We've got jewelry making stations, make up and hair stations. We are PREPARED. Within 30 minutes all the girls have gone through all our prepared stations and are looking at me like "Okay, now what?" "Now what? I'll tell you Now What? NOTHING - I've got NOTHING." Thank goodness Aunt Kate and Uncle Jim had given Kirsten some totally cool outdoor toys for her birthday, so the girls ribbon danced and did some sort of hop scotchy thing. From that point on, my children have always had their birthday parties where all I do is write a check for X hours of entertainment!

So, if you see me outside all day tomorrow and Sunday morning doing the "Un-rain dance," you'll know why and you'll know not to approach the crazy lady unless you're carrying some "mother's little helper!"

PS - That's Jim holding Kirsten in the background of that last picture. Unlike his big sister, he was amazing with kids.