Friday, August 19, 2005

Things I've Learned at Hayden Lake, Part F

1. A vacation is not a vacation unless you hire a nanny to come with you on your trip to take care of your child. DaDa will be the first true words out of the baby's mouth, yet where the hell is DaDa, you ask? Fishin' with the boys again. So I am left with the monster and have yet to find a local Teethers Anonymous meeting to attend. Did I mention I need medication?

2. The least helpful person will have the most ideas on how you should get done the things that the least helpful person wants completed.

3. When your husband has a difficult time getting up on the fat ski as the boat zooms away from the beach, yelling "Maybe you've exceeded its weight capacity" for everyone within 3 cabins to hear is not recommended. You will have one of those brief highs with the feeling that maybe you could be a stand up comedian if this whole wife/mother thing doesn't work out, but the look your husband gives you will instantly shrink you to size. The look that you can feel your MIL giving you from BEHIND will make you feel as small as Tinkerbell. Never fear though. As soon as it all happens, you will once again realize what everyone else already knows--you are funny as hell.

4. Perhaps the only thing that feels good on the baby's gums is a wine cork. As he grabs it out of Grandpa's hand, you have a fleeting concern about your child sucking wine from a cork. But as the wailing and gnashing comes to an abrupt silence, your concern shifts that your child's first cork was Merlot and oh, God, I hope the baby doesn't like Merlot. On a phone call later, your sister reminds you that Merlot will probably be all the rage in 21 years and your son will seem cool to his friends.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Things I've Learned at Hayden Lake, Part Cinco

1. Someone will always have a comment about how you constantly hold your child and never put him down. This will normally come from the relative with the least socially adept children. Further, this relative may also introduce her teenage grandchild that will be unable to maintain contact for more than a trillisecond. Your child, however, while been SPOILED ROTTEN, will go to anyone and will talk to the mailman for 10 minutes if you let him.

2. You can regain your sanity if you find the one aunt or one cousin that will take your child for an hour. An hour that will seem like a million years. An hour that will make you feel like time has stopped and that you can actually make it until next Monday without throwing someone off the Point. An hour that will make you feel almost as good as that time you spent the big bucks to get the deep muscle massage AND the facial AND the manicure AND the pedicure at the Regent Beverly Wilshire.

3. If you build it, they will come. Protesting, but they will come. My father-in-law completed the rail that borders the side of the deck. It may block the 270 degree view of the lake by about 1 degree. This will start World War III in the family, but I maintain it will allow the drunks free access from the deck to the illegal patio my father-in-law put in last year. He does these things to make the place more attractive and to drive Uncle insane. Such improvements must be voted upon and discussed for 4 years before commencing. My father-in-law has determined that his 7 second discussion with himself is enough conversation. I hope I have the camcorder when Uncle shows up and sees the latest handywork.

4. Dr. Sears doesn't know squat about teething. The ridge in his gums will disappear before he gets a new tooth, my ass. He will get the bottom two first and then the top two, my ass. The first tooth will be the hardest on you and him but it will get progressively easier (until the molars), my ass. Because the two teeth my child got 3 weeks ago aren't enough, he is now getting a third tooth on the bottom. I have received suggestions for cutting the tooth out, drugging him senseless, waiting it out, and "could you please keep that baby quiet."

My sign says, "will work for valium."

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Things I've Learned at Hayden Lake, Part IV

1. Blood is thicker than water. When the 7-year-old demon seed of second cousin twice removed asked, "So, are you a (insert patriarchal family name known across the county)?" My response, "Well, I'm a ... by marriage." With a look of resignation/condescension, "Yeah, that's what my mom is too." And off he trotted. Little bastard. But I guess he was saying what everyone else is thinking.

2. Do your own damn laundry if you want to be able to find anything ever again. And even if you do your own laundry on the regular cycle, small load, you will return 10 minutes later to find the machine on permanent press wash with a medium load. WTF? Further, I spent $6 on two pairs of socks and ONE SOCK IS MISSING. If you want my child to live, stop messing with my laundry.

3. You know you talk like a truck driver when you have to explain the definition of WTF to the aunt who is a school bus driver for a living and has been doing it for like a hundred years.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Things I've Learned at Hayden Lake, Part C

1. Once a mother, always a mother. Derek's father is threatening to take the leftover salmon for lunch tomorrow when the two guys go fishing up in the mountains. After saying 5 times how dangerous the salmon can be and that they should be taking cans of sardines for lunch, she has now packed 2 loaves of bread, a few boxes of crackers, granola bars, fruit, and frankly, enough food to feed the five thousand. The guys, as expected, will leave the bag in the truck, proceed to eat the salmonella-poisoned salmon (no pun intended), return to the truck and throw the bag out before returning. Neither will get ill and no one will be the wiser. Part B--Derek is looking for Tylenol and I couldn't tell him where it his. His mother has mentioned 5 times that she has Tylenol. I finally told him to just go with her and to bring back anything she has that is better than Tylenol. I could use it right now.

2. Surly parents breed surly children.

3. If you don't like someone, that person will do whatever it takes to drive you insane. Wife of second cousin twice removed helped herself to the floatie that I went to great pains to weasel out of a neighbor so E could swim like the rest of the big kids. I thought terrible thoughts (jaime's suggestion of beating her ass with the little blue shovel came to mind) but I let it all slide. She has to live with herself and that is probably more punishment than one person should ever have to endure.

4. If a 4 year old asks repeatedly to go shopping with you, she will only make it 10 miles before complaining incessantly "why do we ALWAYS have to go shopping." She will then be TOO hot, TOO hungry, and TOO tired to make it through the rest of the trip. Apparently McDonald's can fix all of those situations though.

5. If laundry is left to others, your husband will find himself without one pair of shorts to wear. He will then come out to the patio in his boxers because God forbid he ever miss "Happy Hour at the Point" with the rest of the family. As various extended family members appear, he will continue to run in and out of the house to get glasses or whatever anyone needs, wearing boxers. Did I mention he was wearing boxers?

Monday, August 15, 2005

Things I Learned at Hayden Lake, Part Deux

1. If the thermometer reads 48 degrees at 10:30 at night, but your husband says that the t-shirt material your child is wearing to bed, without feet in it, and without socks (because your child doesn't own any) is warm enough, your child will wake up at 2:17 a.m. wailing. When you pick him up, he will resemble a popsicle, but he will instantly go mute when he realizes that your guilt has guaranteed him sleep in between mom and dad for the rest of the night. Said guilt will carry over to his being allowed to push mom to the last 4 inches of bed so he can have lots of space.

2. Your family's reputation will proceed you and will become your own. On the way to Costco with my father-in-law (just the three of us), he stated that if I planned on nursing the baby in Costco, he would like to stop on the way and buy a t-shirt that says "Grandpa" on it. I told him that if I had to choose between a screeching baby and exercising my legal rights under Idaho law, I choose the option that results in silence. He agreed wholeheartedly.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Lessons I've Learned at Hayden Lake, Part 1

1. If you are the second person to go into the lav after takeoff because your infant has, once again, managed to fill his diaper at the most inopportune time, allowing the baby to unravel the toilet paper roll onto the floor while you are changing him is one of the most effective ways to distract him while working to keep poop off of you in a 9” x 9” space they call a bathroom. Environmentally unsound, but who the hell cares if you manage to get out unscathed.
2. When you enter the kitchen at 5:25 a.m. and find your world-renowned trauma surgeon father-in-law standing in front the coffee grinder wearing a sarong, saying “Nice dress” will get you the response you were expecting. You will also have to make your own breakfast.
3. The second cousin, twice removed cousin who was mean to your husband when he was nine will inevitably marry someone who will be greatly annoyed to find you using her child’s shovel at the beach. We are so glad they found each other.
4. If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Or at least remember to turn off the damn cheap ass $34.99 monitor transmitter that your child could scream into it with a wail that would suggest someone is ripping his limbs out of his body and you couldn’t hear if your life depended on it. Said monitor will suddenly become better than a military radio on the combat field and will transmit your bad comments like a loudspeaker into the crowded living room.

To all the readers out there

I'm using dial-up, so I can't really comment on everyone's posts until I get back. I will try to send some stories to entertain Amy, at least, until I get home.