Learning to live with our kids again

This coming weekend is Easter, the weekend we travel to pick up the two kids from university. The drive to Quebec will take us anywhere from nine hours to twelve depending on traffic. Once we arrive, middle child will immediately want to start moving the contents of her apartment into the trailer, we will have brought with us, hubby will want a beer and I will want to lay down since the drive is exceptionally hard on my body.

Now middle child has lived on her own for three years, so there is three years of her crap precious belongings to bring home. Once her stuff is loaded, we will then drive over to where the teenage boy lives in residence. More crap precious belongings will be loaded into the trailer. So in less than a week, are other two children plus one large dog will be home, again. This is when our life will once again be turned upside-down. Now middle child will only be home for a couple of weeks, since she is going back for spring school, leaving us with her dog, which is a whole other set of issues.

The first thing my husband will notice will be the leftovers – they will be non-existent, and hubby loves leftovers, great for work, and snacks for when he gets home from work. Next I will notice that the tank of gas we put in the van once a month, will now last about a week, and the van will rarely be in the driveway. I can’t complain about the laundry, since my girls do their own, but the teenage boy will remind me, he is on vacation again, and thus the laundry is all mine. I will give him credit for bringing it up and down the stairs for me.

Middle child has to leave her dog with us while she returns to university for six weeks, because of new living arrangements. Bear, a mixture of German Shepherd and Doberman, is a very well-behaved dog who adores our daughter. So for the first week, he will pine for her while he also gets used to living with us again. There will be mud everywhere. We have a large yard for him to run around in, but we also have a lot of mud in our yard in the spring, if of course spring ever gets here. So along with cleaning the paws of our own little beagle, we will now have to clean the paws of Bear. The worst though, is the amount of poo outside will double, and Bear’s business is not small, plus he prefers to go wherever, whereas our dog is trained to go in the same area.

So this Easter weekend, all seven of us (five adults, two dogs) will be together again, arguments will quickly ensue as people and dogs learn to put up with each other again love each other for all of our differences again.


The fact that our youngest is nineteen years old, mom sent him a text message last night:

  • Mom: “Does the Easter Bunny need to make a stop here, he/she was wondering. (mom’s have a direct line to the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus just for such questions)
  • Teenage boy: “Tell the Easter Bunny that if he has to ask, I’m going to skewer him and roast him in a stew”
  • Mom: “Oh dear, though rabbit for Easter may be good”
  • Teenage boy: “No”

I won the Jolly Lobster Award

I don’t remember how I came across Ned’s Blog | Humor at the Speed of Life probably during one of my many procrastination moments but it has been a joy. His humour has yet to disappoint me, and his comments are just as hilarious as his posts. I love authors that respond to comments, now I realize a lot of bigshots post authors don’t have the time to respond to comments, but the ones that do, will always receive a comment from me.

I particularly enjoyed reading When it comes to maintaining my yard the luck stops here. Plus, he secured me as a follower with his love of the “fainting goat”, though I am not sure I would let them in the house.  When I was reading “I don’t really do the ‘award’ thing unless its weird” on his blog, I was actually left speechless for a moment in time when I saw he had nominated me for the Jolly Lobster Award.
The Jolly Lobster Award
Now normally I wouldn’t get too excited about an award, ok that is a lie, I still have the trophy I won when I scored 292 (High Single) in 5-pin bowling 1972-’73 at the age of 12.
Bowling trophy
For Bloggers who enter fully, there are a number of rules (easy rules for those who are sweating). They are as follows:

  1. Display the award badge
  2. Link back to the person who nominated you
  3. Give an interesting fact about lobsters
  4. Answer 7 questions
  5. Nominate no more than 7 bloggers and let them know

My lobster fact: I don’t like lobster all that much, I prefer crab. Not an interesting fact, but a boring fact nonetheless.

The 7 questions from Ned for me:

  1. What do mermaids eat tartar sauce with? Fish sticks
  2. Would you ever consider using a starfish in self-defence? If you happened to notice my current avatar, I am holding a starfish which I am preparing to chuck at my husband for disturbing a Lionfish
  3. In “Jaws”, which character do you identify with the most? I have both a hunting licence and a fishing licence, so I would identify with Quint, the seafarer
  4. If you could talk with any fictional sea character, who would it be? (while sober) Henry Limpet (depending on your age, you may have to google this guy)
  5. Share a raw seafood experience? I have eaten raw seafood twice and hated it both times.
  6. “Gilligan’s Island” or “Lost”? Gilligan’s Island
  7. What do dolphins know that we don’t? They know how to talk with whales.

My nominees for the Jolly Lobster Award are: drumroll please,

My seven questions for the nominees are:

  1. Why does a crab need a shell to live in?
  2. If you could be any sea creature you wanted, what would it be?
  3. Have you ever gone snorkeling clothed or unclothed?
  4. Which fish eat their young?
  5. Have you ever picked up/touched a sea cucumber, and if so, what did it feel like to you? (besides icky)
  6. What is the first fish movie you ever saw?
  7. What would be your fish name?

Again, I would like to thank Ned for this award, it brightened my day and I hope my readers will check out the blogs I have nominated.

How to tell a non-nudist from a nudist

When we were in the initial planning stages of our vacation to Jamaica, one of the main requirements for me, besides hot and sunny weather was it had to be an adults-only resort. Don’t get me wrong I love children, but I wanted a vacation where we weren’t hearing little ones yell for mommy or daddy, and I wanted to see what it was like to go to a restaurant, where there weren’t kids throwing tantrums or running up & down the aisles. Now as many of you already know, hubby and I stayed on the clothing optional side of the resort (ironically, one of the resorts I had originally tried to convince my darling husband to go to was Hedonism. I explained to him that there was a prude side we could stay on, and if we felt comfortable enough we could go to the non-prude side, but he said no, he wasn’t up to that right now).

So there we were on the clothing optional side (we hadn’t planned it, but the first room we were given was on the second floor, and there were too many stairs for me), approximately twenty feet from the beach, close to the bar and some to-die-for lamb chops. We had lounge chairs on our patio, lots of sun but also shade (necessary for when you run out of sunblock).

Now it didn’t take me long to drop the bathing suit for nudity, I blame out of whack perimenopause hormones for my lack of discretion, whereas it took my husband another day to drop his shorts. I believe he needed to see that there were no super models he had to compete with, one can only hold their tummy in for so long. Plus there is the manhood to consider, will it be up to snuff with everyone else. This is where hubby and I found there were two types of the male nudist, the ones that are nude all the time, and the ones that are only nude on vacation. The permanent nudists are shall I say, long and relaxed whereas the vacation nudists are mushroom caps, why? Well for the simple reason their manhood has been trapped in underwear its entire life. Now you know how to tell a non-nudist from a nudist.

I took this picture years ago at a provincial park we were camping at completely clothed