What the Kids Can Watch on Netflix (When Everyone Else's Kids are Back in School)

My Facebook feed has been flooded with first day of school pictures.  Tis that time of year! Everyone is heading back to school, dressed in their first day best, holding a chalkboard marking the occasion and smiling for the camera...

Unless your kids go to my kids' school which does not start until September 8th!!!  That's 8 more days (not that I'm counting).  Eight long days with nothing planned and daily temperatures in the 90s.

So we're doing a bit of parks.  A bit of pool.  And a bit of Netflixing....

Specifically, this month the kids are into Dinotrux.

The subject characters are a combination between dinosaurs and mechanical vehicles.  For two boys 4 and over WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE BETTER?

(Oh, maybe your own Dinotrux toy to play with.  Thanks, Netflix!).

From what I can gather from my eavesdropping of the kids viewing, the plot is simple.  Good guys versus bad guys, dinosaur best friends, and an evil Tyrannosaurus, among others.  But at the end of the day, does it really matter?  The boys love watching hybrid dinosaurs, and with 10 episodes of around 23 minutes each, I love the break.

Eight more days...  Sigh.

#StreamTeam

A Summer of Indulgence Ends with a Run... for Wine

Summers are for relaxation.  For swimming.  For breaking the rules and abandoning a schedule and flying by the seat of one's pants.  Summers are for ice cream and sunshine and family and vacation; for dance parties and friends and overindulging.

I love summer.

This summer has been fantastic.  We've been in swimsuits nearly every day.  We've traveled up and down the east coast.  We've had our moments, believe me, but overall the good times have far outweighed any tantrum filled evening or dime swallowing incident.  It's been a fun-filled, laid back summer - one I'm proud to have added to my kids' roster of summer memories.  We did good.

And now it is coming to a close.

As I write this from our last summer vacation - on the balcony of our rental in Bethany Beach, I am coming to terms with the fact that reality is about to set in.  September brings first days of school and an onslaught of birthdays and commitments and appointments.  The lazy days of summer are coming to an end.

And I hate to admit it, but it's time.  Time to get healthy again.

I mean, lets face it - it's not such a great idea to stuff one's face with boardwalk fries on a regular basis or have a glass of wine at 2pm on a Monday afternoon.

(But it sure is fabulous).

The vacation's over.  It has to be.

September is my month of cleanse and detox.  I will be doing the Whole 30 (which I am sure I will blog about if I can summon the energy in the absence of carbs).  I will be training for a half marathon.  And I will be incorporating vegetables back into my children's diet.  (Unless tomato sauce counts - if so then they have been in the clear all summer long).

I am kicking it off by running a 5K at the National Harbor in DC next Sunday- the day after we return from vacation.  Welcome home!

But this isn't any ordinary 5K, it's the Chardonnay Run!  That's right, we run.  Then we drink wine. At 9am.

So who's coming with me?  It's not too late to register (click here to do so).  You also don't have to run the race.  You can just go and drink wine.  No judgment here.  It's not September yet.

I figure this is a perfect way to ease into my post-summer health.  Run.  Drink wine.

Baby steps.


I was provided complimentary registration for the Chardonnay Run.  All opinions reflected above are my own.  

***************************************************************************
Like this post?  Like me on Facebook by clicking here!

Waiting for the Dime to Pass (Literally)

As a mom of three boys six and under, I am well aware that in some ways, I asked for it.  I asked for the stress and the chaos and the mess and the overwhelming noise and discord and pandemonium that is my life.

So I hate to complain, but I think that even the most stringent of observers would agree that the past seven days of my life have been a bit much.

It all started last Thursday, with this:

Well isn't that a weird thing on Colin's finger, I said to myself last Thursday while sitting at Starbucks with my one year old.  A first time mom may have panicked and run straight to the doctor, but I am seasoned.  Cool, calm, collected, and pretty sure that it was nothing that some anti-fungal cream from CVS wouldn't cure.

But in an abundance of caution, I did what any seasoned mother would do - I texted the picture to every medical professional I can call a friend or acquaintance.  The universal consensus, unfortunately, was that it was not something that would be cured by anti-fungal cream.  Instead, I needed to haul ass to the ER to get the infection drained and treated.

The Big Questions Begin

Children come into this world ignorant.  And what a beautiful thing!  Ignorant of war and prejudice and pain and death and all of the yucky parts of being alive.  If they are lucky, they are in a world of family and fairies and forever.

Slowly but surely, reality creeps in.  Shots at the doctor.  Mean kids on the playground.  Being left with a babysitter.  Wondering how the baby in mommy's tummy actually gets out, or what would happen if an airplane's engine stopped working mid-flight.  Pain, shame, abandonment, curiosity, fear.  It comes gradually, but it comes early.  And as my six year old has become more aware, the questions have begun.

The innocence of these questions tugs at my heart.

Last year he asked why it is that some people have "brown" skin and some people have "yellow" skin.  And why it is that some people's mommies and daddies live in two different houses.  And why some kids have two mommies, or two daddies.

These questions are typical, and I tried to answer them in a simplistic, honest way.  People have different skin colors just like people have different hair colors.  Sometimes mommies and daddies decide they don't want to live together anymore and that's okay.  And some girls marry girls, some boys marry boys, and some girls marry boys.  Anyone can be parents.

But the death questions tend to trip me up.