Beach Photo Vacation

I feel I'm swirling into a creative slump. Don't know what brought it on, but if I could quote Liz Lemon, "Ahh, my period! You're all fired!"

I never feel like sewing or cooking or doing anything other than laying in the sun on my awesome fake fur coverlet and reading. Mostly I want to go stay at a hotel for a weekend alone. Just me and my iPod and maybe some food.

There should be a Groupon for Momcations (patent pending), where we can all escape, cheaply, money and guilt-wise, and relax watching whatever we want on a TV with nary a Dora to be heard. Maybe there's a cooler full of Diet Coke and Thin Mints. And sandwiches. I love a good sandwich. And an entire King sized bed to myself! A shower without worrying that Bee found a Sharpie! Watching Working Girl or Captain Ron all the way through without pausing to referee a toddler altercation! Listening to music full of expletives! Going 30 minutes without washing my hands or dishes!

Now's the part where I say I'll miss my kids. I might. More likely I'll miss the chaos. Like when I grocery shop without the boys I can't concentrate and end up forgetting things. And wander the store looking for random items because my brain is entirely focused on the task instead of bouncing from kid to kid and keeping all the fruits and veggies out of their hands and scales and then back to my mental list.

Or when I get to go clothes shopping alone, I end up with so much extra time, because I'm not buckling and unbuckling kids and talking them into getting out of the car, losing them in the store, going on the immediate Tommy Lee Jones-esque manhunt, the reunion, the harried checkout, the losing them a second time, etc...with which I do not know what to do.

So maybe I would have too much time. And no chaos. And that would be worse. Because at least in the middle of the chaos I get an occasional, "Mom, you're the best chef ever!" whilst I pour them a second bowl of Cheerios.

While I Was Blogging.

Yesterday, I was typing away and listening for screams or silence. Typical day. I hear the boys get into their piggy banks and just kind of yell, "Stop it! Put your money back!" A few minutes later I hear some kind of tearing. I go in to check on them and an entire box of packing peanuts has been dumped all over their room! And most of the box was dumped behind the bed. Here's how my brain responds:

I'm goING TO KILL...where's my camera?

So I had to bring in the shop vac. The giant R-2 Unit lookin' shop vac. Which I had to go out into the rain to get.

I started scooping up the mess into the box and discovered that underneath the peanuts were dimes and quarters. They had also dumped their piggy banks behind the bed. Which meant I had to push the packing peanuts around and find the change before I could vacuum.

I finally get all the change into the banks and all the styrofoam vacuumed up and start to put all the bedding back. (Did I mention I had to vacuum their beds?) I was looking for the all the paper money that was missing from the banks and asked Hartwell where he put it. Why, in the wipes, of course! They had emptied the baby wipes and filled it with cash and some change. (They seem to understand the value of a dollar these days).

I was pretty happy with myself for not totally exploding and screaming. Filled with my sense of self satisfaction, I walked by the living room and saw that they had somehow managed to get the box of packing peanuts into the living room and were throwing them all over.

I'm having another whoopie pie. I deserve it.

Would you knock it off please? Thank you.

I am the meanest mom ever. I try to capture crying kids as much as smiling kids. Not that I am the cause of the tears, he fell down while trying to be the leader. It's just that I bet he would've preferred kind words and a kiss to faux shutter clicks. Sorry, buddy.