Getting Old

Big Kid's birthday is on Thursday.

This is something I've tried not to think about at all but Mr. Ashley had to go and bring it up this morning. "Has Big Kid mentioned his birthday yet today?" he asked on the phone.

"Yes, of course." Big Kid has been counting down for about a month.

"He's going to be 10!"

"I'm trying not to really think about it. It's stressful for me. He's going to be in 5th grade and I'm not old enough to be the mom of a 5th grader."

"5th grade! It is unreal. Ugh."

"Next year, he will be in MIDDLE SCHOOL. You know what happens when your kids enter middle school?"

"What?"

"You're officially old. Period."

"We're not old. I'm not old."

"You will be when you have a kid in middle school. You better enjoy the next year. If you have a kid in middle school, everyone younger than you thinks 'Wow, I'm glad I'm not that old,' and everyone your age who doesn't have a kid in middle school feels smug and younger than you because you are middle-aged now, no matter what."

"How did this happen?"

"It's bullshit. It's not right!"

"It's not."

 "Next year, we will have a third grader and a middle schooler. People will not see us as the parents of little boys anymore. We will not be the parents of little boys, just plain boys."

"That's sad. I can't believe it."

"Me neither. I'm going back to not thinking about it."

A few minutes later I casually mentioned my (new found, temporary, and probably only because it is physically impossible) desire for a baby boy who I would name Max. (Max Atlas, but I didn't tell Mr. Ashley that part because he would never agree to a name like that...until high off of endorphins in the delivery room where I would passionately unveil my plan) and Mr. Ashley laughed so hard I thought he would pee his pants. A very genuine laugh.

"A baby? Imagine us right now with a baby. God. You and three boys in that house. Poop and diapers and waking up--ugh! I know for a fact that I do NOT want a baby at this point in my life."

I know he's right. He's actually the only one who even likes babies so if he doesn't want one, it's really not a good plan. It's just hard to let go of the idea of being the mom of little boys. So it seems like I need new little boys. I realize this is not my most rational thinking.

But Max Atlas is a kick ass name, and it would solve the problem of me seeming old.

A Three Hour Tour

I miss you all! I have nothing and everything to tell you. I've thought about you a lot from my secluded little island vacation. There are no cars or businesses or wi-fi here, so it's a lot like Survivor. I was in a near panic when I realized we were running out of wine, food, and sunscreen but a kind neighbor gave us some wine so I think we will make it now.

I have managed a few minutes of (slow and unpredictable) internet using my phone as a mobile hotspot in order to upload an article for work and decided to steal a second or two to say hello. You can follow my vacation on instagram, for the most part. I will be back Monday, either full of posts or too tired to talk. Who knows.

I wish you (all) were here.

(But staying in your own vacation rentals.)

Prepared

Tomorrow we leave for the beach house. It's on an island with no cars or stores so there's a lot of planning and packing that happens. Usually.

But so far I have gathered 7 bottles of wine, 6 bottles of sunscreen, ketchup, a shovel, and some Sweet 'n Low and I feel like I can make it work with that. I also bought a really huge raft.

Time to rest. (Not a nap, Mr. Ashley specifically told me we are too busy for a nap today.)

Good Girl

Due to having an outdated and broken car stereo system, where my only option is the radio, I listen to a lot (and I mean, a lot, because it's all anyone plays) of top 20-type crap. One of my newer favorites is Robin Thicke's "You're a Good Girl." (Edited to add: I guess it's "Blurred Lines") I always turn it up and do some car dancing, much to the embarrassment of the kids. And by kids, I mean Big Kid, little kid couldn't care less what I do and has great/awful taste in music right along with me.

"Mom, this song makes me uncomfortable!" Big Kid insisted the other day.

"Why? It's so catchy! I love it!"

I'm one of those (dumb) people who don't really listen to lyrics, even if I sing them (badly), which makes for some fun parenting moments. I was surprised (and I'll admit it, slightly amused) when my 9-year-old matter-of-factly recited:

"But you're a good girl, the way you grab me, must wanna get nasty, go ahead, get at me,"

in a monotone voice. "It just makes me think that they are...you know..."

I did know. Damn.

"Dancing?" I said.

"Dancing?!?" He questioned.

"Maybe? Like in a club?"

"Must wanna get nasty, mom? While dancing?"

"Well, maybe they are...you know...like, sometimes people dirty dance...it's not...but sometimes...like at clubs...you probably don't know. But like in music videos? Have you ever seen one? Probably not." I should've shut up about 2 minutes ago at this point.

"Dirty dancing?"

"Well, yeah, kind of sexy? Maybe she wants to dance really close."

"You are making this so much worse. That's a thing? I'm not doing that!"

"No! No, of course not. Just like...rappers and stuff, music videos which aren't really even a thing, I guess, and people on Dancing With the Stars, or whatever."

"Now I'll really never feel comfortable about this song. I still don't think it's dancing."

I don't think it's dancing either, but I'm pretty impressed that I thought of that.

Gamer Girl

We heard a radio promo earlier today that featured a girl saying something along the lines of, "I sit around the house in my underwear playing video games and eating Doritos all day," in a sexy voice.

"I hope I end up with a gamer girl," Big Kid said from the back seat.

"Yeah? Or just a girl who supports you in your interests. Like the wife in King of Kong? She didn't play video games but she understood his need to be a Donkey Kong champion. That woman is a saint if you ask me, find someone like her," I suggested, referencing a documentary we saw recently.

"Yeah...it would be nice to find a girl who likes video games, though--not a lazy one, who sits around in her underwear eating Doritos all day or anything!"

"Right," I said, chuckling. "It would be fun to have someone that liked playing games with you, that would be cool."

"And mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't be mad--but maybe later, when I'm older? Like, much older? Maybe then I'd want the type in her underwear. I mean, I can just see why some people would like that."

I stifled a laugh.

"Don't be mad, I'm just saying--" he went on.

"I'm not mad." I said. "As long as she likes your mother, I don't care. I really wouldn't want to know..."

"Yeah, yeah, you won't even know."

"Okay, then, well, good luck with that! I hope it works out for you! What about the Doritos?"

"Eh, yeah, I don't know about that."

At least he's got standards.

Book Look

I'm heading back to the beach house in a little less than a week and need reading recommendations.

Don't get me wrong, my nook is chock full o' books that I have yet to read, but it wouldn't be a beach vacation without new books, right?

Right.

In exchange for your input, I will advise you to read Blood, Bones & Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef. It's a memoir from a chef and I simply cannot believe that someone could be so good at writing and cooking both. I am not huge on memoirs or food and have no interest in chefs and have never heard of Gabrielle Hamilton. I didn't think I would like it but one of the few friends whose taste in reading I trust strongly suggested it and this was one of those books I could not put down. The author has lived a rich and fascinating life and has an unbelievable ability to put it into words. She's also a jerk. Google about her affair after you read the book for the full picture. An incredibly talented and genuine person who seems both deep and shallow at the same time. I loved it.

But don't base your recommendations off of memoirs or chefs, just books you couldn't put down.