*Updated - I gave in! The Seesmic plugin has been activated on my blog. Now you can leave video comments if you’re so inclined.
Also, I need to give a special shout out to my brother Nathan. It’s his 25th Birthday today. Nate…you’re now a quarter century old. Happy Birthday!
I’m sick. It’s laryngitis, I think. Thanks to WebMD, I was able to determine why I have had a sore throat and raspy, almost non-existent voice since last Wednesday.
I honestly thought it was just a looming cold, but it’s not. Then I thought it might be seasonal allergies, but anti-histamines do nothing to relieve my symptoms. I’ve made an appointment for later this morning, and hopefully my doctor won’t be an asshole today.
Last night (or rather, this morning?) I was wide awake until 4:30 a.m. with no logical explanation as to why. I wanted to go to sleep, because I was truly tired, but my body wasn’t having any of that pesky sleep. My golly, it had better things to do; such as watch bad T.V. and read magazines and blogs until the birds began chirping outside my living room window. WTF is up with that?
And Dawson. Dear sweet, devilish Dawson. He is driving me Capital C-R-A-Z-Y. And I can’t take it anymore.
This child is testing me. I swear he is saving up all his energy to drive me batty. The constant whining. The screaming like a girl - it’s a blood curdling scream, too.
Yesterday he let out a shriek and I honestly thought he stepped on a nail (we were outside). It was enough to make my heart stop. Turns out he stepped in dog poop. Fresh dog poop that Murphy left right next to Dawson’s sandbox. Had I known it was there, I would have scooped it up right away.
And this boy of mine will not leave Murphy alone. He insists that he’s just “loving him” and he pulls on his ears and pinches his fur and drags him by the collar to wherever he’d like him to go. My poor pup clings to my side and the look in his eye says, “Please, woman! Keep that little Lucifer away from me!”
I’ve tried to separate the two of them, and it usually results in tears and whining. “But I LOVE him!” Dawson will say. Yeah. It shows. Leave the dog alone, goll’ dammit!
I refuse to kennel Murphy when Dawson is in these destructive moods, because I don’t want to punish the dog for being so tolerant of that 3-foot person.
I’ve given Dawson several time outs, but he just doesn’t seem to understand what he’s doing wrong — because he goes right back and does it again.
Oh, and we’ve entered the Why Stage. I can’t take it. Everything I say results in Dawson asking, “Why?”
Dawson, please throw your garbage away. Why? Because that’s where it belongs.
Dawson, it’s time to come in the house. Why? Because it’s getting dark outside.
Dawson, your shoes are on the wrong feet. Why? Because you put them there.
Dawson, leave the dog alone!!! Why? BECAUSE I SAID SO!
And then I realized I’ve become my mother. Something I thought would NEVER happen. But after my husband counted how many times I said, “Because I SAID so!” (18 in one day), I realized it’s inevitable and I’m not going to fight it anymore. I’m too tired. And maybe that’s how I got laryngitis. Or why my voice has left the building.
(Lenghty post ahead. You’ve been warned. Heh.)
The second day of our Milwaukee trip, Saturday, started off on the wrong foot. Not only did I get NO sleep whatsoever because my mother snores like a bear in hibernation, but my ears were aching from leaving my iPod in all night. I had that sucker cranked, and I swear the louder I turned up the volume, the louder Mom’s snoring would get. It was horrible.
To save costs, we were staying at the Super 8 in West Bend. I made the reservation online after verifying they had WiFi and a clean swimming pool. They lied. The internet connection was shoddy, and very slow, and the front desk clerk assured me that after he reset the system things would be fine. No dice. I should have known that cheap hotels really are cheap.
I had to do some BlogHer work that morning and with an intermittent connection that worked at a snail’s pace it didn’t make my job any easier. After Googling “internet cafes” and finding only one, a coffee house down the street, I packed up the laptop and Dad drove me in that direction.
Turns out the coffee house was invisible. Meaning, the address 310 E. Washington Street didn’t exist. It jumped from 230 to 520. Interesting, don’t you think? Dad finally pulled onto a side street and asked some very nice bicyclists for directions to the Washington County Library, and thank heavens it was only a few blocks away. And they had WiFi. And it was fast. I was happy as clam.
After my work was finished, we took a tour of the Old Courthouse Museum in downtown West Bend, just a few streets over. It was a wonderful museum with many exhibits and thousands of historic artifacts. Some of my favorites:
We left for Milwaukee on Friday morning, and let me tell you — packing for two people with no help is a recipe for madness. Add to that an obsessive-compulsive checklist that Doug left for me, full of last minute instructions on how to lock the house up was enough to drive me to drink. It’s as though he thought I’d never gone on vacation.
I frantically ran around shutting windows, locking doors, making sure the oven and straightening irons weren’t left on, and doing one last double check that all the lights in the house were off. The day before our departure, my parents called to say they’d pick us up between 9 and 10 a.m. They were 40 minutes early and I wasn’t ready. There were dishes in the sink for goodness sakes! Thankfully my mom stepped in to help me and we were on the road by 10:30.
Traveling in a mini-van with my parents and younger brother is chaos. Dawson decided he wanted to play musical seats, because he didn’t want to sit in the back row by himself. I don’t know how many times I yelled, “This van is moving! I’m not unbuckling you! Sit back! Stop leaning forward!”
Dad, a former semi-truck driver, knows Wisconsin highways better than most residents of this state. He had his faithful maps tucked in the console and decided to take “the leisurely route” to our hotel in West Bend. We traveled through cute little towns like Wild Rose, Wautoma, Green Lake and Princeton (flea market/antique capital of Wisconsin). When we got to Princeton we saw this:
and this:
So much of the downtown area was flooded, water was crawling up to the back doors of the downtown buildings. It was fascinating and tragic at the same time. Sandbags everywhere, trying to push the flood waters back. So much devastation in our state. While not as drastic as Iowa, it’s still pretty sad to see this happen.
We stopped for breakfast along the way and to my surprise and delight, Dawson ate entire (huge!) pancake. He must have been starving from all the riding in the car we had to do. We finally arrived at West Bend at about 2:30 in the afternoon. Dawson and Poppa (my dad) went swimming and I stayed in the hotel room to keep Mom company. She was feeling sad, thinking about Mr. Jones’ passing.
That evening we went to the Brewer’s Game. We were sort of sad about going because Mr. Jone’s wouldn’t be with us, but we knew he wouldn’t stand for all this “carrying-on” as he would say. So, I e-mailed Maureen from Wisconsin Mommy and she happily accepted my invitation. I was honored and grateful. We had a great time, even if the Brewer’s lost. We talked about our kids and gas prices and summer fun. It was awesome. Here we are, just as the game started:
Later in the game, out of the corner of my eye, I caught this:
Our friend Chris called the Brewer’s hotline and got this tribute to post on the Jumbotron scoreboard. It made our night. It was a great way to celebrate Dick’s last Brewers game. We’re certain he was there in spirit.
When the game was over, we went back to our hotel room and crashed. Well everyone else did. I had to suffer through SOMEONE’S snoring. More on this to come! Stay tuned.
