Memorial Day Hell.

Memorial Day weekend.  I could end the story with that one fragment of a sentence, but what would be the fun in that?  I swear, between my kids and the dog, there's never any reprieve.  Every year, I get all excited right around Memorial Day weekend.  The planning take hold, lists are compiled--this sudden urge for the perfect summer-kick-off-weekend is always on the forefront.  It's as though if the first summer weekend is perfect, the rest of the summer season will fall easily into place.  And as my children are getting older, these summers feel more and more important--to me, if not to anyone else.

And so this year, after the last two DISASTER camping trips on Memorial Day weekend, I was bound and determined to have the perfect summer-kick-off.  Lists were made--from camping supplies to the food we'd bring.  Great preparation was taken going through all of the gear, with another shopping trip getting all the supplies that were either missing, broken, or seemingly essential for this year's trip.  Marissa and I spent two hours filling the cart, deciding on what was needed and even putting back some things that seemed silly to buy (i.e. the plastic carton to hold the eggs).  I strategically packed the Sorento, perfecting this job with ease and skill that the women in my family all seem to have.

As we hit the road, kids were happily listening to their music, dog found a comfy spot between them both, and there was excitement in the air.  Granted it was a bit windy out, but we figured it'd either die down or it wouldn't be that bad in the location we were headed.  Before hitting up the lake, Brandon would be playing in his last soccer game of the season.  His game went well--they won once again, Gates enjoyed chilling under the tree with Kent, and I sat and watched the game with Riss.  Perfection was still looming all around, and I was happy.

Two and a half hours later, we piled back into the Sorento and hit the road lake bound.  We were all quite anxious to arrive, set up the tent, and get our camp on!  Oh yeah.  The ride itself was enjoyable--in other words, there was no arguing or bickering or moments where I wanted to pull over to beat some kids.  Yup, good trip.

Upon arrival, the wind seemed to take notice and apparently wanted to greet us.  Kent and I made our way down to introduce ourselves to some of my sister's friends (who were also camping for the weekend--except in campers, not tents) and figure out where to sent up our site.  The wind was approaching 25 miles an hour at this point.

The lake was beautiful.  Gates was getting along famously with Body (sister's boyfriend's dog).  Kids were happy.  My husband kept giving me the look of "Yeah, this isn't going to end well," which I was pleasantly avoiding.

"Babe," he began.  I looked toward the lake.  "Babe," he said a bit louder.  I turned my head and flashed a beautiful smile toward him.  The smile that always makes him melt.  He grinned back, shook his head, and asked, "Where are thinking this tent's going up?  It's going to be like a kite in this wind."

"It'll be fine," I answered nodding over toward the trees.  Perfect.  I mean the trees will totally block the wind, right?  "How about in there?  Next to the water, in the trees."  The kids were all for it, running toward "our" spot.  They began clearing branches, making sure our spot was ready.

"You do realize this site is at an incline?" he questioned.

"Yeah, that's fine.  We'll face the water--it'll be fine."  I honestly had no idea whether or not it'd be fine.  At this point the wind picked up to about 30 miles per hour.

"Honey, you do realize it's all sand over here."

"Kent, it's FINE.  Plus the sand makes it easier for the tent stakes to go into the ground."  Which was completely true.  No need for the mallet over here!

By this time the dogs were running through the water, chasing each other and having a grand old time.  I was pleased that Gator was doing so well!  After all, he'd never been off leash like this before--except at home every now and then.  But never in public.  And he was behaving.  This was going to be the perfect weekend.

Kent and the kids started unloading the camping supplies and bringing them down to the site.  I was supervising (the MOST important job, if you ask me).  Kent was unrolling the tent, getting the long tent thingies put together, and I was putting the stakes into the tabs.  "Wow, babe, this is easy breezy!"  The tent stakes slid right into the sand, no problem.  I thought back to last year when I was pounding them into the rock--yeah, that was awful.

And it was perfect.

For about 10 seconds.

Then this gust of wind picked up our tent, with no regard for the tent stakes I meticulously put into place.  "Sit on the tent while I try to put the tent rods in," Kent directed.  And so I sat.

And the moment I got up, the tent soared into the air, with sand flying straight into our eyes.  "This isn't going to work," he started and I had no choice but to agree.  Sand was everywhere--the tent stakes were now buried, but without the tent.  Yeah, the wind was going to win this one.

I headed over to the others to tell them of our dilemma, when I heard Brandon and Marissa screaming for Gator.  He had long tired of the water and running with Body, and decided to jump the fence across the way.  The fence that housed the farmer's cows.  "Ah, shit," I mumbled and started to whistle for the damn dog.

He was going nowhere but after the cows.  And that's when I saw this big ole' cow begin to jump two fences, with Gator right on her heel.  He was barking and herding her.  And we were all screaming for him to "COME!"  Yeah, he didn't listen.  And that when we saw the heifer lift her leg and give Gates a huge kick.  Marissa started screaming and crying, and I began to worry.  I know the power behind those kicks--not first hand, but from my sister who is a dairy farmer, and has had her fair share of injuries.  Thinking my poor dog was killed, I lunged toward the field, yelling his name.  Kent was on my heels.

And that's when I saw him, the prodigal son returning home.  He was limping, made his way in-between the barbed wire fence, and collapsed right at my feet.  "We're going to have to take him to the vet!" I told Kent, afraid his leg was broken.  Marissa was now in hysterics when another camper headed toward us.

"If the farmer sees any dogs chasing his cow, he'll shoot them on site."  That was enough to send Marissa and Brandon over the edge.  Suddenly my angel babies turned into mafia maniacs and were ready to come unglued on the farmer.

"We are going.  Let's packed up and blow this clam bake.  We can go camping in a hotel, with a pool and room service, but I'm done with this!"  the mama bear had spoken.  Kent took Gates and walked off his injury.  He was fine, just a bit shaken up.  Within a few minutes his limp was gone.

So another year, another Memorial Day weekend that bit the dust.  And I've decided that next year, should we want to ring in the summer, we will do so poolside.  As for camping in Colorado, May is simply too early.

P.S.
We did make it home, safe and sound.  Ordered pizza and movies that night, went bowling the next night, and ended up having a great weekend--tent-free!

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Groupon Groupie

 Hello.  My name is Meredith Collins and I'm addicted to Groupon.  *pause for audience sighs and acknowledgement of my admission*

This addiction started a few weeks ago when I downloaded the Groupon app on my phone.  Since that time, I've found myself clicking on the app to open up the glorious savings that miraculously appear every day.  EVERY DAY.  *look away, trying to contain excitement over the wonder of this technology*

Usually, I just look through the items up on sale--Featured, Now!, Getaways, and Goods--trying not to click on the BUY.  It's been a struggle.  *pause again as the sympathetic sigh makes a wave over the crowd.

But then, upon me was a deal I couldn't pass up--2 hours of horseback riding through the Rocky Mountain National Park for 4 people for ONLY $99!  Incredible buy!  I immediately set up my Groupon account and that's when the addiction began...  *look down in shame*

Suddenly, I have the need to get a manicure in Lakewood, sushi in Denver (I hate sushi, but my husband loves it), and a facial in the DTC.  Seriously.  *shakes head in disgust*

I'm looking forward to summer--to seeing all the great savings and adventures my children and I will get to go on, due to Groupon.  I've even added the cites in Florida so I can get the savings when our family goes on vacation!  We can save all over the country!  *oops.  I'm regressing.*

Working on my Groupon addiction is going to take more than 12-steps, I'm afraid.  It's kind of like Kohl's--I feel like I'm getting paid to shop!

P.S.  To my husband, Kent--this is a COMPLETE work of fiction.  Don't feel the need to suddenly check our bank account for any Groupon withdrawals.  It's all under control...

Just a Few Little Words...

Last night, after my son finally got home from work, I made my way upstairs to get ready for bed.  Everyone was exhausted from a long week.  After brushing my teeth and throwing on one of my husband's shirts (the best form of PJs ever), I crawled into our bed and set the alarm.

There was a knock on our door and as it creaked open my son made his way in.  "G'night, honey," I began when I saw a look of perplexity on his face.  "Didn't you see," he started with his eyes wandering over to my dresser.  I jumped up quickly and feasted a look upon some beautiful roses.  There was a card propped up in front of them.  MOM was written on the card.  "Oh my god!" the excitement evident in my voice.  "No, I didn't look on my dresser."  He was beaming from ear-to-ear, so proud of the reaction he was getting from a very happy mother.  I reached for the card and opened it--seeing the "From Your Son" perched up on top.

This was the first time my son has done anything like this for me.  Yes, I've gotten things for Mother's Day before, but never has he put his own time, his own money, and his own way of surprising me into something.  And I can tell you, it felt really good to be on the receiving end of things.  I pulled him into my arms and hugged him tight.  I love the way he hugs back--real hugs, not superficial or any holding back.  "I love you, Fuzz," I began with the tears beginning to well up.  "I love you too, mom.  Happy Valentine's Day."  "Don't you mean Mother's Day?" I asked with a grin.  "Yes, you know what I mean," he said with a smile and hugged me again.  It felt amazing to be thought of--to feel appreciated and loved.

I went into Marissa's room to give her a g'night hug and kiss and to ask if she knew what her brother had been up to.  "No, mom, what'd he do?" she asked leaping from her bed and into my room.  "Ohh," she admired looking at the roses and his thoughtful card.  "Can I give you my gift early?  I don't want to look like a loser."  "Seriously?  You're not a loser, don't say that."  I always hate when the kids cut themselves down.  "Can I, mom?"  "If you want to--it's up to you."

She ran down the stairs to get the masterpiece she created.  The girl knows how to wrap a present.  She sat on my bed with anticipation as I began to open her gift--beginning with the beautiful card that she had made.  I love homemade cards, and often miss the days when they were younger.  The artwork, cards, poems, and just stuff they created for me was always so treasured--still is.  "I love your card, Marissa!  It's beautiful!" I told her as showed it to my hubby and began to tear into package number one.

Inside was a beautiful, flowery dress--in swirls of purples, pinks, and whites.  "I thought you could wear this to the Mother's Day tea that we're going to," she told me.  "It's perfect," I said feeling the silky material.  Marissa always picks out clothes for me that I'd never pick out for myself.  I tend to wear black almost every day.  I love black.  One day as we were shopping she asked me, "Mom, are you depressed or something because you're always wearing black!  You need to wear the bright colors!"  I couldn't help but laugh and tell her, "No, I'm not depressed.  I just like black."

Box number two produced another bright, flowery shirt and white capris.  The last time we shopped together I had tried on a pair of white capris, but couldn't imagine myself actually wearing them.  She loved them on me, told me buy them, but I've never worn white pants before.  Just couldn't do it.  "You looked good in those white capris, Mom."  "I love them, Riss.  And I love this shirt!"  "Now you have two outfits for the Mother's Day weekend--one for the tea, and something to wear on Mother's Day."  I pulled her in for a hug, so grateful to have such a thoughtful daughter.

As I hung the dress up in my closet, and put the boxes on the side of my bed, I had to go into her room and give her another hug.  We had had an argument earlier this week, and there were a few little words that had hurt during that argument.  I just wanted to let her know that I appreciated her card more than anything.

I plopped down on her bed, telling her exactly that, and giving her another hug.  And that's when a few little more words came out of her mouth.  "You're a really good mom.  We should celebrate more than one day a year for you."  And that's when the waterworks of happiness began.

It's so easy to tell someone the things you can't stand, the things that need to be changed, and the things that are negative based.  And you know what?  It's easy to say the good things too.  Those things should be said.  Hearing those words coming from my stubborn, teenage daughter's mouth meant the world to me.  I know how difficult it is for her, as I was much the same.

A few moments ago before my kids headed out the door for Brandon's early soccer game (we're leaving 45 minutes after them, as he needs to be there early and wanted to take his own car), he showed Marissa what he had gotten me for Mother's Day.  "I was going to get you a dozen roses, Mom.  But everyone does that.  I wanted something different."  "I absolutely love the vase, and its uniqueness," I told him.  "Yeah, me too."  He gave me another hug as Marissa described, along with me, what she got me for my special day.

And I have to tell you--the best part of this morning wasn't the retelling of last night's gifts.  It was the peace amongst my two babies.  That's right.  No bickering, no arguing, just love.  And honestly, I think that's all any mother truly wants for Mother's Day.

My Baby Girl

Today, as I was in the midst of helping my student prepare for their mock trial, my phone vibrated with an urgent text message.  My daughter was in the middle of her French class, wasn't feeling too good, and thought she was going to hurl.  Eww.  I texted her back quickly telling her to get to the nurse and to call me as soon as she could.  I put my phone on and warned my students that it may go off.  "My daughter's sick," I told my sympathetic students.  They are all so understanding.

A few minutes later my phone vibrated again, this time with a phone call.  I took it out in the hall, where she told me she was running a fever and still felt like puking.  I hate it when my kids are sick--especially when it happens with one class period left and without the ability to just leave my job.  "Stay put," I told her, "until the bell rings.  Go straight home with Fuzz and I'll meet you there."  I felt bad not being able to just drop everything and go to her.

On my way home I stopped over at Safeway to grab her some soup and TUMS to help her upset belly.  Poor thing.  By the time I arrived, my son was headed out the door toward work.  During the week I see him for the "good mornings" and "good nights"--ahh...how I miss my son.  Anyway, I raced into the house to find my sick child.  She was feeling much better--thank GOD!  There's nothing more frightening than anyone that's going to puke.  Yeah, just not for me.

She made some soup, I got dinner started, and before I knew it all of her homework was scattered all over the kitchen table.  She had Biology homework, a Biology project, English homework--reading and questions, and was working on something else on top of that.  I jumped on over to see if she needed any help.  And she did.  We worked on her Biology project and homework--I drew and she embellished.  We couldn't help but laugh at my pathetic drawings, although she did say they were much better than what she could create (which I doubt, I am NO artist...).  Over dinner we tackled her English--reading every other chapter out loud and answering all of the study questions.  She completed everything, rather we completed everything, in only 2 hours.

I cherish these moments with my daughter.  Watching her, listening to her, studying along side of her.  It's these simple times with her that I know I'll miss the most when she's out on her own.  When she was little, it was snuggling with a PowerPuff Girls book or putting together a poster for school.  It was the way she would grab ahold of my hand to cross the street or run toward me at the end of the school day, so excited to see me.  Today it was more than just homework.  Today it was living in a moment of her young adulthood and appreciating the fact that she still needed me--even if it was just for some vocal words or reading along side of her.

It's the needing that I think I'll miss the most some day.

Running...and not away

Whew!  Today I started Week 7, Day 1 of my Couch to 5K app that I have going on my iPhone.  Honestly, tomorrow is really the 5th week of my new running venture--however, the app only has me running 3 days per week, and I've been running 4-5 days a week--which has put me ahead of the game.

Running is not something I was ever good at.  I ran when my coaches made me, but other than than--NO WAY!  I even faked an injury in high school so I could be the track manager instead of having to run the track.  Seriously.

But a while ago, one of my husband's really good friends and my friend too, began running--using a C25K app on his phone as well.  He's now run several 5Ks and even a leg in a marathon!  I know, right? I was so impressed and in awe of his success.  If he could do it, certainly so could I?  Besides there's nothing I like more than a little competition--even if I'm only competing with myself.

The first few weeks I did think I was going to die.  I was so out of breath, but kept on going.  What I love about the app is how it doesn't just throw you into the fire, instead I eased onto the coals.  Still get the pain, but it's doable.

I remember the week when I had to run 5 minutes straight--on and off with walking.  I didn't think I'd make it.  Whenever I started to falter, I would think of Bryan (friend mentioned above) and say to myself, "If that F*&^%! can do it, so can I!!"  Granted, I don't think Bryan is a F*&^%! in any way--it's just what I needed for my motivation.  And it worked.  Then I had to run for 8 minutes in a row, then 10 minutes.  Each time I went into the gym thinking there was no way I could do it--and each time I proved myself wrong.

Today, as I ran for TWENTY-FIVE minutes straight, I felt really proud.  I've never been a runner, and today I almost felt like one.  Of course, I still look like absolute hell as I'm running--I'm sweating like crazy, breathing out of rhythm until the 10th or so minute, sometimes singing out loud when I don't realize I am, pulling down on my tank as it rides up over my ass...yeah, I'm still a bit of a mess.  But I'm loving it.  I'm feeling great.

And the BEST feeling of all is that I know this is the year I'll be able to actually make good on a promise that I made to my daughter years ago.  See, we've been walking the Race to the Cure for the past 8 years together (9 for me).  Every year Marissa asks if we can run the race and every year I say, "Next year.  I promise, next year I'll train and we'll be able to run it."  And this year we WILL be running the race--and I have a feeling I just might beat her...  =)