Partriot’s Day 2013

Yesterday Elizabeth and I went to watch the Marathon with the Raskells.  On Saturday they bought Elizabeth a “Marathon Cowbell” in Hopkinton so we rang it and yelled out the names of the runners.  We saw Jake’s middle school principal running and a family friend.

I decided about a half hour before leaving for the marathon to have a barbeque so we invited the Raskells and the Davis’s over.  I took Elizabeth and Davin to the store to buy hamburger and hotdogs then we went home to prepare.  The Raskells arrived and Tiffanie’s phone started ringing.  People asking if she was alright.  Don joked that the only injury we’d received was my sunburn.  Then we realized what happened.  Erin left the room to call her husband who was at work in Boston.  He was right there and heard both explosions.  He was on his way home.

We didn’t feel like celebrating anymore and watched the news rather than play games.  Then Rebecca threw up on my dining room floor which seemed to be an appropriate end to the day.

Patriot’s Day 2012

(11 days late … what’s up with that?)  This year was different because we didn’t go over to my friend Katherine’s house for a bar-b-que because 1.)  Brianne ruins everything and 2.) a good friend was running The Marathon and I wanted to scream her name when she ran past me.

Originally we planned on going to DC for spring break but I signed Brianne up for driver’s ed instead.  I wanted her to both enjoy spring break and get driver’s ed over in one week vs. me driving her every Thursday and Friday night to a driver’s ed class for 2 months.  As a special bonus she got to spend her birthday surrounded by her peers listening to a 70 year-old man talk about driving.  It’s like I reached into her brain, found her ideal birthday activity, then paid a lot money to turn it into a reality!  I’m the Best. Mother. Ever.

So, while Brianne enjoyed spending Patriot’s Day in a small, hot room; Lizzy and I hooked up with the Raskell’s on Rt. 135 in Natick.  The Raskells like to show up to activitiesinsanely early and spend the day.  Lizzy and I showed up at 11:30 … long after the wheelchair and elite athletes had run by to watch the pack.

Lizzy and I helped pass out wet paper towels to the runners, then once they ran out sat down in our chairs to yell out runner’s names and the current score of the Red Sox game.  You could usually tell who the Massachusetts’ runners were because once they realized that Don was listening to the game they’d start shouting, “What’s the score?”

I pretended to be a fan (because I’m helpful) would yell out things like, “No score.  Bottom of the third.”  I sometimes like learning new things and I sort of learned a new language – baseball while watching the marathon.  Tiffanie laughed at me for shouting out the score because in 12 years of living here I’ve never even attended a game at the Green Giant oops, Monster (see more sport’s terminology – between my education at the marathon, having the game on in the background and watching Moneyball, I practically have a Masters in Baseball!).

I even saw my friend run.  I got a text when she was at 10k so I started watching for her I got a sweaty hug and ran alongside her for a couple of feet – which is my version of running the marathon.

But I mostly supported the runners by sitting in a chair, eating pizza provided by the Raskells, drinking cold water and by yelling out the runner’s names* because I’m awesome … and supportive.

*Note.  If you run in the Boston Marathon it is easier to read your name if you write it on your shirt rather than on your bent arm, especially if the first few letters are one direction and the letters beneath your elbow are sideways and you’re moving your arm.  But maybe it’s just me.

Camping Part II

We went camping last weekend.  I was much better prepared this year because I camped next to the Raskells.  Our friend’s Tiffanie and Don go all out for July 4^th in Boston and I merely show up late and ask them for cold drinks and a snack.  So my brilliant plan for camping success was to 1. Camp with Don and Tiffanie and 2. Bring the High School Musical and Transformer blankets.

I am happy to report that camping was better this time, but wet and cold.  Because naturally shortly after being hit by Hurricane Irene, Vermont seemed like the best place to go camping.  (Meaning we had planned it prior to the floating away of half the state.  Have I ever mentioned that I can be rigid about plans? If I haven’t, let me mention that now.  I can be rigid about my plans even if they only exist in my head.)

Status Updates:

Husband:  Told he looked like someone ran him over with a truck while camping.  Talking into driving the kids an hour away to tour Ben and Jerry’s, while there was talking into buying the kids an obscene amount of ice cream to eat.  Currently in favorite parent spot.

Me:  Remembered to bring paper plates this time (was feeling pretty good about myself until I realized I forgot serving/cooking utensils.  Can’t you do everything you need to with tongs?)  then realized I didn’t need to bring them because the Raskells were next door.  Wimping out of the tent and moving to a cabin for the second night was the BEST. DECISION. EVER.

Brianne:  Sad at the lack of teenagers.  Talked father into a two hour drive in a fantastic display of “wrapping your father around your finger because you are his little girl and he wants to make you happy.”  Awww.  Slept in swimming suit and pajamas the second night and we aren’t sure why.  A three-year old followed her around for two days.

Jake:  In his element.  Had a posse of 6 and 7 years-olds following him around the whole time.  And there were sticks.

William:  Still hates camping.  The first morning he wouldn’t talk to my husband for an hour.  Then Will looked at his dad.  “No camping!”  Will said.  Pausing for a moment, he thought of the only thing worse than camping.  “No two airplanes!”  He added.  On a positive note we now know where camping rates.  It’s better than flying.

Elizabeth:  I have no idea.   I barely saw her.  Trying to keep track of her was like trying to keep track of a unicorn.

The Raskells:  Just grateful for the opportunity to set up my tent, drive me around and feed me dinner …  And you’re welcome!

Someone Crashed My Fourth of July Party

I know that technically “It wasn’t MY party,” and yes, I like all the people that came but seriously … I have a few expectations and one of those is that the world revolves around me.  For the last several years my personal party planners Tiffanie and Don get up in the wee hours of the morning, schlep a couple coolers of food, a canopy, and a tarp to mark our area and drive into Boston to hold a prime spot for me to watch the fireworks.  That way I can mosey my way into Boston at a realistic hour, enjoy an icy drink and watch fireworks with little cleanup before heading home.  

But this year the pleasure of my company wasn’t enough apparently (whatever) and four other families came too.  Darn it!  I had this completely worked out and now these four families are going to tell four families, and those four families are going …  I’m watching my sweet deal slip through my fingers.  Tiffanie is going to have to bring me a really good treat next year to console me!

The fireworks, of course, were spectacular!  This year was much more enjoyable because I left Will at home.  I asked Jake if he’d stay home and watch Will and surprisingly he said yes.  Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth I didn’t press my luck by asking, “Are you sure?”  I might not have gone this year if I had to bring Will because it was so painful to do last year both literally (because he dug his fingernails into my arms) and figuratively (because of  … uh, multiple issues).

We’ll see how many people come next year.  I might have follow Tiffanie around and tell people they decided not to go.

Fireworks of Multiple Types

I’ve mentioned before that I have awesome friends Tiffanie and Don who, because they are insane, get up early on the Fourth of July, drive into Boston, bring a cooler of drinks, snacks, a sunshade and set up to spend the day on the Esplanade.  They do all this to watch fireworks at 10:30 at night.  The best part of this is that I can show up at 7 or 8 pm with my gaggle of children and watch fireworks from an incredible spot, while sipping an ice cold drink and eating a snack.

My plan went a little awry this year.  Not at first, at first it was awesome.  My husband’s aunt was in town visiting my husband’s cousin and her husband.  They mentioned that they were going to meet up with another couple and see the fireworks.  I told them which two speakers my friends were between and that I’d call them when we got there to meet up.  Well, in a crowd of over 700,000 people THEY FOUND EACH OTHER!  They have NEVER MET and they found each other!  Unbelievable!

We got there later.  My husband dropped us off by Storrow Drive and found a garage to park in while I took the kids and tried to find everyone.  Unfortunately we walked a while before we even got to speaker one.  I should have realized that Will was on edge when he started crying when his dad didn’t get out of the car with us.  I explained that his dad would come after he parked the car and thought everything was fine.  But we walked and walked and there were so many people – too many people for Will.  He doesn’t even like to be in a room with many people.  And Will started to make his displeasure with his surroundings known.  He started yelling and pinching me, really pinching me.  Digging his nails in my arm (I still have the marks) kind of pinches, over and over again.  I starting holding his hands together, saying “calm hands” while trying to balance two bags and keep track of my three other kids.  By the time I got to speaker number three I wanted to go home.  By the time I got to speaker number five I threatened that he could not play with his iPad if he keeps pinching.  After that he tried harder not to pinch but there were so many people and he was freaking out.

We finally found our group and I collapsed in a chair with stinging arms.  This is the point at which I would almost like to kiss Steve Jobbs.  Will sat in his chair and played with his iPad until I took it away from him to force him to watch the fireworks.  It was sooo preferable to the last time we went when we pulled him out of the Charles River four times!  Unfortunately, the dark side of Will’s obsession with the iPad was that it (possibly combined with his understandable aversion to using porta potties) distracted him from going to the bathroom and he pooped in his pants.

Fabulous!  My husband and I walked him to a porta potty and stripped him down.  Can I tell you how disgusting that was?  Pretty disgusting!  I started squirting disinfectant on the wet wipes and wiping him down.  I tell you that when I was 18 I never saw myself stripping down my BAREFOOT child in a porta potty, with a flashlight stuck down in my bra, while my husband held a bag for me to put poopy clothing in.  Honestly, if either of us had had that vision we might not of gotten married.  Now, of course, my only fear is that I’ll get poop on me – the rest . . . not so big a deal.

And after I stopped hyperventilating about what my child touched in the porta potty and if I had used enough disinfectant gel (I’m pretty sure I did) – the fireworks were pretty awesome!