MEMORIES...

I stole this from Barneckedlady's blog:

MEMORIES...

Fun if you want to participate.

1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you.

The doorbell rang this morning, and this is what I found staring at me through the storm door. I think he's supposed to be Batman, but I could be wrong. He really is getting miles and miles out of that swim vest.

Mommy's Happy Hour

After I spent all morning and afternoon dealing with the adventures of the psycho tornado formally known as Henry, Ben decided to go out and see the new Batman movie with a friend, leaving me with our adorable little hell-beast. All was fine until dinner time when the whining started and every culinary suggestion I offered was shot down with complaints galore. Moments like these often cause me to contemplate and reflect upon the horrible luck doled on me when my son decided to quit napping at about 25 months. I made dinner in spite of his avowal that he didn't like pizza (a flat out lie, since it's one of the few things he'll actually eat) and when it was ready I found him zonked out in the recliner. I made a half-hearted attempt to wake him, i.e., I brushed him with a finger, and when he didn't stir I gleefully let him sleep for an hour. Of course, thanks to his nap he was wide awake when Daddy got home.

Happy Birthday USA

Independence Day was spent at home since both Ben and Henry were laid up with colds. Henry actually asked to take a nap a couple hours after he got up that morning and he and Ben slept until well after one p.m. Fireworks were definitely out since the menfolk were so beat, so we busted out the sparklers instead. I'm not sure that Henry got the whole Forth of July thing, but he thought the sparkler was pretty cool, once he figured out it wasn't going to ignite him. I guess I should have told him it was our country's birthday, which he'd totally get. Too bad I always think of these things long after the fact. Oh, well.

Ahh, back on flat ground. Can't tell if I'm any whiter than normal, but my hands sure were sweaty

Family Vacation

Ben took a few days off and we went on vacation. We didn't go very far, just to Pilot Mountain and we camped out at Mom and Dad's again. Henry didn't get to play with all his cousins this time, but he did get to help babysit Wesley, Maggies' cute little three month old. He got in a tractor ride, boat ride, a couple of movies and got to feed the ducks before we called it a night. I slept really well since we skipped the air mattresses this time and used a foam mattress thingy. Henry drifted off, well more like crashed off, to sleep about ten thirty, and woke bright and early at about five.

"It's morning!" he said perkily into my incredulous, blinking, bloodshot eyes.

"No, it's not," I said and rolled over.

"It is morning! The birds are tweeting!"

Stupid birds.

We packed up the tent and stuff and left about nine and drove over to Pilot Mountain where Ben's paternal grandparents live. We spent the day with them then went up to the mountain to find a camping spot. This involves driving up a narrow windy road with hairpin curves and minimal guardrails, so I was a little queasy by the time we reached the top where the hiking trails and look outs are. We wanted to hike around the knob, which Ben and I did many years ago in the pre-Henry era. Of course, watching Henry fearlessly check out the view on the edge of the drop off did little to ease my nerves.

"Can I climb on that rock?" he asked, pointing just outside the fence.

No, imagining that didn't make me want to faint and puke at the same time.

I get completely stressed at home when he runs around on the back deck, which is about fifteen feet above a cement patio thing.

So we start our hike, Ben taking charge of Henry and the camera, me carrying the water.

"Have these sharp, slippery looking rock steps hanging out into open space always been here?" I asked Ben.

Of course, they must have been there the last time we hiked, but I honestly didn't remember them or getting vertigo that quickly before. I opted not to watch Ben leading Henry up and down those steps, pretty much because whenever I did my heart seized and dropped down somewhere in my knees. We'd gotten about a third into the hike and were working our way around bare rock when I decided I'd had enough. I think if Henry hadn't been there I'd have been okay. I mean, I've hiked it before and it was really fun. But watching my only child, who by the way only up until recently couldn't walk across a room in flip flops without tripping, climbing on pine needled covered rocks next to a very steep drop off sans hand rail or trees... Okay, the stress was killing me. So I was done. We turned around and went back and I kept my eyes on my feet the whole way.

At a much less stressful point where the path was soft and flat, and surrounded by trees we stopped for a little rest. Henry announced to a couple coming up the trail that his mommy was afraid of heights. Heh, heh, heh, ya little weasel. Just you wait until next time we go to Chick-fil-A and you're too chicken to climb to the top of the indoor play house...

Since I was a bit stressed, Henry had acquired a runny nose and the weather was supposed to be a bit cooler that night, and you could hear the highway noise all the way up the mountain, Ben suggested that we drive back to Mom and Dad's. Henry had left his hat there anyway, so we all agreed and drove back to Seagrove, arriving at Mom and Dad's right after seven. We ate our campfire dinner: Chef Boyaredee straight out of the can ( I heated Henry's in the Microwave) and we put Henry to bed and ordered pizza and watched movies.

Now we're home and Dori is happy and full of wet cat food.