This Week and Next

This week is going to be a little hectic, I suspect.  We have friends coming from out of town with their three kids.  We have a Pirate game on Thursday.  We have vacation to Nags Head coming up next week, so we have to pack.

None of that is particularly stressful, except Lily's been a little. . . behaviory (shut up, it's totally a word) this past week.  A little more defiant, a little more fragile, a few nighttime potty accidents in a row, we suspect she may be coming down with something.

Her breakfast lunch and dinner routine's have been a little more dicey.  Her top front tooth is a little loose (I think.  Leslie reached in there.  I didn't tempt fate) so maybe that explains some of it.  I just hope she's alright for the visit.

Yesterday, in an effort to get the packing and organizing started for the trip this Saturday, Leslie and I dropped Emma and Lily off at Grammy and Pappy's house (Leslie's parents).  The idea was for them to take the kids to a movie.  We have three relatively successful trips under our belts so far, so we figured it would be alright to give it a shot.

As we we drove to their house, I saw a large glass-front building ahead and it prompted a memory.  I was thinking of a place we went for a wedding reception and ate in a banquet hall.  I asked Leslie, "Didn't we have dinner there once?"

Leslie was playing solitaire on her iPhone.  She's been playing solitaire on her iPhone for the past four weeks straight.  I can't play more than one game of solitaire in a row without being bored out of my skull, but solitaire to her is like a visit to the spa or something.  She glanced up.

"Where?"

"Over there," I pointed as we drew closer.  She glanced at it as we passed before returning to her solitaire game.

"That's a mausoleum, Jim."

So many responses occurred to me then. . . zombie references mostly, but instead I just sort of meekly replied, "Probably a different place then. . . "

She glanced sidelong at me but didn't otherwise react.  She's a good straight man.

Zzzzzzzzzz (File Photo)

Meanwhile, Lily slept in the back seat.

We dropped the kiddos off and drove home again.  We inventoried and made lists and then hit Sam's Club and Target, picking up snacks and sunscreen and paper products and DVD's for the ride before cashing in on a couple Applebee's gift cards that we'd received for supper.

I don't know that Grammy and Pappy really got dealt a great hand that day, Lily-wise.  For starters, there was a thunder storm, and thunder makes Lily very apprehensive.  So she started out the movie (Madagascar 3) disinterested, then I imagine she wasn't spectacularly happy about the thunder, then apparently the movie theater had a power failure, Lily had an accident, and ultimately, they ended up leaving early.

Next time. . . next time.

They brought the kids home and Lily systematically ate all of Pappy's fries.  She was SO.  WOUND.  UP!  They fed her McDonald's before the movie. . . because that's what you do when you're attempting to set yourself up for success on a Lily Outing. . . but she was SO hungry we accused them of not feeding her.  Then Emma spilled Pappy's McSlushy thing on the floor and then after we cleaned it up they took off and Leslie put Lily to bed.

Lily is a wonder.  She can be SO high energy one minute, but when she's in bed, no matter how much she protests that she's not sleepy and doesn't want to go. . . she's out in 5 minutes.  It's a strength.  I think she gets it from her mother who is a gifted sleeper herself.

Back to me. . . my boss just got back from vacation, and I have to get everything in order for MY vacation, so you may not see much of me for the next week or two (can't imagine I'll be spending much time online once I'm at the beach.)

There's still that looming big story that some of you are now aware of, and I'll probably address that starting sometime next week, unless I edit what I've already written about the history of it and post it later this week just to end the suspense.  All the suspense.

What do you mean you mean there's no suspense?

Zombie Bath Salt Epidemic Hits Home

     Yeah, yeah, another bath salt blog post.  I've seen a whole mess of them today.  Jillsmo and Amy both blogged about it, and Sprocket is ALL over the Zombie Apocalypse tie-in.  I was actually saving this post for Halloween, since it's Halloween-centric (shut up, it's a word), but with all the Zombie Apocalypse face-eating craziness of the bath salt generation (I totally coined that just now and expect credit if I see it later), I figured I'd throw in my two cents and/or strike while the bath salt iron was hot.  
     If you've been living in a barn, or are forced to take your news solely from Nick, or Disney because your children completely dictate what's on television (honey, I'm talking to you, but I promise not to mention you by name, LOVE YOU!) 'bath salts', "not to be confused with cleansing products, are an inexpensive, synthetic, super-charged form of speed. The drug consists of a potpourri of constantly changing chemicals, three of which -- mephedrone, MDPV and methylone -- were banned last year by the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency."
     They've been linked to the "Crazy Case of the Guy Who Ate the Other Guy's Face Off", and touched off a tongue-in-cheek (oh my god, I totally didn't even do that on purpose!!! Tongue-in-cheek?  Whew. . . you, know, cause he ate his face off, did I mention??) Zombie Apocalypse scare that's trending across the Interwebz (shut up, spell-check, Interwebz is cool-guy talk for "internet").

Emma, about to eat my delicious brains.

     But my daughter Emma may have started the whole thing without even knowing it.  Emma was ingesting bath products before it was "cool", because she's a gangsta, yo.  
---
2009:
     I watched my daughter as she peered into the black felt bag filled with Halloween candy. She held the bag by the straps with one hand and stirred it with some difficulty with her other, searching for that one special treat.

     "Daddy, can you help me find my Sweet-tarts?" she asked.

     "Sure, sweetie, let me see your treat bag."

     She dutifully handed the bag to me and I took the heavy, black felt bag and, unable to resist, pushed the small blister in the lower corner that made the skeleton on the side of the bag light up colorfully. I then held it by the base and opened the bag, spilling the candy out onto the bedspread.

     I sifted through the sweet spoils of her Halloween campaign and swiftly uncovered the "large" packet of Sweet-tarts amid the rubble. THIS packet was desired because it was an actual BAG of Sweet-tarts as opposed to the two-tart packages MOST people handed out on Halloween.

     I handed her the bag and said, "Here sweetie."

     She took it and thanked me politely as I scooped the candy into a pile and attempted to 'rake' it back into the bag. As I did so I found a clear package shaped like a ghost. Inside were white wafers so thin they almost looked like paper. I scowled slightly and picked up the package to examine it. THIS candy had to suck.

     My daughter looked up from her package-opening and confirmed, "I tried those. They aren't very good."

     I turned the package over, examining the back. "Honey?" I said.

     "Yeah, daddy?"

     "You know why this doesn't taste good?"

     "Why, daddy?"

     "Because it's soap. You add it to your bath to make it smell like vanilla. You ate soap. I can't get you to try tacos, but you'll eat SOAP?"

     She giggled.

---

     It was cute and funny. . . but:

     The neighbor had asked her to take some with her when she'd left the Halloween party the previous night. I had been through her Halloween candy, and hadn't seen it, so I was confused when I looked through her candy the following day and spotted it. I want to say that if she'd have gotten it Halloween night I'd have noticed it and pulled it out of the bag, but I'm not completely sure. That scared me a little. Or at least served as a wakeup call.

     When the neighbor told her to go ahead and take it, Emma didn't ask what it was, and either the neighbor failed to mention it, or Emma forgot. Probably Emma spotted it in the house, asked about it and was told. . . "oh go ahead and take some home with you".

     Even the pickiest of eaters will try just about anything that they think is candy, so I've tried to be a little more vigilant when vetting her treat bag now. Not that this was IN her treat bag that Halloween night. . . but it just served to warn me that it probably COULD have been in there, and I'd never have known the difference. This time it was bath soap. . . next time? Who knows?

     And THAT is how Emma turned into a Zombie.  Alright. . . fine, it wasn't "bath salts" it was "bath soap" and she's not a zombie.


Or IS she. . .