[ Something Witty Should Appear Here ]

AAAAUUUUGGGGHHHH.

It's hot and humid and I have a sinus headache and my kid is watching some trippy "educational" programming on HBO that involves talking dancing shoelaces (!!!) and I have an 8-page Canterbury Tales paper due at 3:00 on Monday and my brain is basically completely fried.

So here: have some random, almost completely decontextualized pictures!

This is from before 4th of July. I may be alone in this, but I think there is basically nothing in the world more adorable than a wet child in neon colors who smells of Coppertone and chlorine screaming for joy. This is pretty much my happy place, right here. The only thing that would making this picture better, IMNSHO, would be if (1) this were my own kid, and (2) neons were not involved. I lived through the original mid-1980s neon fad, and I am not so excited about this day-glo revival, because I have eyeballs, and I'd like to keep them.

I would like to find the bozobrain who taught my kid the word "chillax" and punch them in the neck (unless it's a kid, in which case I'd like to punch his parent in the neck). Otherwise, camp has been a rousing success so far -- even though (1) Shae doesn't quite understand the words "boa" and "constrictor," although she DOES understand the concept of one, and (2) this picture was taken at my grandmother's.

This bubble is approximately 8,000 years old. Shae used to wear it. Of course, I can't find pictures of Shae wearing it because I never tagged any photos or blog posts with "bubble."

These pictures are actually from July 4th. And, it's a good thing my sister is teaching my niece to play pinochle now, at a very young age, because I am 39 years old and I still don't know how to bid. I am basically the world's least competent card shark. (I'm great at spades, though.)

This what July 4th looked like -- an ENTIRE DAY of my crazy kid being crazy. It was pretty awesome, actually, although it was too damned hot.

I included this picture for no particular reason except that I love these two.

The Life Aquatic with Boo Zissou

I make no secret of the fact that summer is my favorite season of the year: long days, grilled food, iced tea, fresh lemonade, freeze pops watching fireworks, catching fireflies.

I am not really the sort of person who loves strenuous activity -- I'm a Taurus, after all, and we are better known for our love of sensuous things like basking in the sun with a good book and an icy cold beverage -- but even I can appreciate the well-earned kind of exhaustion that comes from a day spent playing cards, chasing the kids through the yard, getting sticky from eating juicy watermelon in the grass.

And, of course, the pool. We all already know that summer is Shae's favorite time of the year because she has pretty much unfettered access to an assortment of swimming pools.

Summer is our happy place. There is a specific set of smells that makes me unbelievably, almost intoxicatingly happy. I catch a whiff of it sometimes when I hold my niece these days. I smell it on Shae every day when she comes home from camp. It is a combination of things that signifies summer and instantly transports me to a time when I was a kid myself.

Chlorine and Coppertone. Add in some bug spray and nail polish remover, and it's like a drug for me. It's a high that's can't be matched by legal or illicit pharmaceuticals of any stripe. It just ...

... it's what summer IS.

Sum-Sum-Summertime!

These pictures are from Memorial Day Weekend, which is of course not technically summer, but it is unofficially the beginning of the summer picnic-watermelon-outdoor-swimming-corn-on-the-cob-festivity season.

Go ahead, guess which of these hyphenates are most important to my kid?

It's been a weird spring so far -- nice, but cool at night. My uncle the Picnic Master opened his pool the first weekend in May, but temperatures went down into the 40's a lot of nights until about two weeks ago. Thankfully he has the hot tub, and once my kid got in there, there was no getting her out.

 

Except to go off the diving board. Mad props to her, too, because the water in the main pool was only about 64°F. But she passed her "big kid" swimming class, and now we'll let her go into the deep end without an adult present (although someone needs to be nearby to watch her). You'd think someone gave her a million dollars and a free puppy.

Where Have You Gone, Joe DiMaggio?

Last time I blogged it was Christmas Eve and I said I'd "see you in a few days" which was obviously a LIE because here were are nearly at Valentine's Day and I am just finding time to blog again. I mean, unless your definition of "a few" equals "39," I am a LIAR and my pants are on FIRE.

I mean, COME ON, I don't even think people are on "Survivor" island for 39 whole days, not even if they win. (Although if anyone asks, go right on ahead and tell them that's where I've been, okay? I have a buff. It's a good cover story.)

By the way, I make no excuses for my disappearance. I've been busy, just like everyone else, and if I'd like to keep my head firmly affixed to my person and not all explodey like the Death Star, then I needed to prioritize stuff, and between school and work and child and husband and eating and breathing and occasionally sleeping, unfortunately blogging fell to the bottom of the list. I hope to rectify this situation, but I am taking nine credits this semester, so maybe don't hold your breath?

(Here's how bad it is right now: I originally wrote "I've been busty, just like everyone else" in the previous paragraph, and I ALMOST LEFT IT IN BECAUSE I'M NOT SURE I EVEN HAVE READERS ANY MORE, and I figured if I was going to keep getting weirdo spam comments in my inbox, it might as well be for an interesting reason.)

(Also, before you even ask, smoking falls under either "eating" or "breathing" and I DO NOT WISH TO ENTERTAIN YOUR COMPLAINTS.)

(Sorry about being all shouty already. Long week, and they're calling for another Snowpocalypse or whatever we're calling it this year, and I'm pretty sure I'm not prepared, although we do have a new next-door neighbor with a snowblower, so there's that, at least.)

ANYWAY. Even though I haven't been writing, I have been trying to take photos whenever I can. Mostly they've been cell phone shots (I got a fancy new camera bag for Christmas and I have maybe taken a dozen pictures since because BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSY!) but at least you can see what we've been up to.

It snowed a couple of times. Nothing major, but enough to at least attempt snow angels, anyway.

Andy Reid finally got fired, and so now at least we no longer have the #occupyfireandyreid movement taking up what little of my free time still exists. (I'm sure it's only a matter of time before the #occupyfirechipkelly movement begins.)

We lost some more teeth. And, I mean, this happened so long ago that the permanent are already almost in and knocking some OTHER teeth loose. The Tooth Fairy is going broke.

Swimming lessons started up again, with a new swimsuit to boot. (And we've grown so much ALREADY that this suit almost doesn't fit any more, so thank God for Costco.)

My kid proposed to a boy in her Kindergarten class via crayon drawing on the back of a receipt. He accepted, but they have since called off the engagement. (I think. I'm honestly not sure what's going on there. It's like "Dallas" or "Dynasty" in the classroom. KIDS!)

I discovered that my kid (1) knows what a glockenspiel is, and (2) can play it (sort of). Of course she was the best glockenspielier at the Kindergarten concert (and also the loudest). Apparently next year they learn to start reading music (something that I never really managed to do, even after all those years of chorus and musical theater), and the kids get to start thinking about whether they want to play an instrument.

(Is anyone surprised that my kid wants to learn to play the drums? I didn't think so.)

Salty Piece Of Land

More pictures from the beach, because of reasons.

Boogie boarding: you're doing it wrong. And still, somehow, doing it right.

Shae says that at the next Olympics she's going to win first place in all the swimming events. I don't think she'll be ready for Rio in 2016, but maybe by 2024 she'll be the new Missy Franklin. And if that is the case, I hope that when Costas and company does a package on "how it all began," they include this picture.

Somebody is not sure whether 64°F is quite warm enough for civilized people. (Glad it wasn't just me.)

Now I really wish that I had put Shae in her suit that matches Makayla's. This is what I get for letting her pick her own clothes out - my perfect shot is ruined. RUINED.

We did a lot of jumping. Shae likes to jump. I hope she never discovers the pole vault, or we'll all be in trouble.

Those eyelashes KILL ME DEAD, every time.

It should be reassuring to me that EVERY.SINGLE.FAMILY.PICTURE. turns out like this, because it means it is not operator error, and yet. AND YET.

THOSE EYELASHES AGAIN. Gaaaah. Who do I need to speak to about an upgrade?

Knee Deep

This post needs a soundtrack, so here you go. (And bear in mind that this might be the only time you'll ever see me voluntarily linking to a country song, although technically I am only doing this because Jimmy Buffett is involved. Jimmy Buffett > everything.)

We went to the beach yesterday, for the first time all summer. I am decidedly A Beach Person, so it was like a kind of homecoming.

Except that I, personally, prefer coming home to ocean temperatures that are above 64°F. That is too cold for a mere mortal such as myself.

Shae, of course, had no such compunctions. There was A Whole Big Ocean there, and she was going to be in it for as much and as long as possible.

Getting up at 5am on a Sunday to schlep yourself and your husband and your five-year-old and a trunkful of beach-related gear and soggy sandwiches 2½ hours to New Jersey is not everybody's idea of a good time.

I can sit here and complain until the end of time, but the truth is, the beach is my happy place, my sacred space. My psychological reset button is a salty piece of land.

And already, we're making plans to go back. I have a final exam tonight and a paper due Wednesday, and then I have two weeks off before the fall semester starts. The state park where we like to go for our beach day trips is open all year.

We'll be back, as soon as possible, knee deep in the water somewhere. The Powerball jackpot is over $300 million, so maybe we can make the change in latitude permanent.

Deep Blue Something

My sister mentioned on her blog the other day that My Nephew The Elder is not much of a swimmer -- yet. In so many ways, he and my own kid are so much alike -- what with the silly Pop-Pop faces and the general excitement about everything and the camaraderie and the matching superhero T-shirts -- but when it comes to the pool, he and Shae are total opposites. She is a cross between a goldfish and a mermaid and a (very skinny) great white, what with all the swimming around while singing and eating everything that isn't nailed to the concrete patio. And he ... is not, so much. He is perfectly happy to sit on the side under an umbrella and eat his freeze pop in peace. (Not unlike his Uncle G, actually.)

UNTIL.

I don't know what caused the turnaround -- the heat? some rare disease? too much to eat? or maybe it's fleas?* -- but Joey went all the way in the pool when he was "back East," for the first time maybe ever. The first time I can remember, anyway.

And I can tell from the look in his eyes that maybe he is not quite sure about this whole life-under-water thing, but I can also tell from the fact that he actually did not want to get out of the pool for a little while there that perhaps the next time we go out and visit the Midwest in the summertime, Shae will not be going down the great big waterslide by herself.

Resistance is futile, little man. You will be assimilated.

Attaboy!

Hi, Mom! (A Drive-By Photo Dump)

Still from Chicago: Joey tentatively in the pool.

Still from Chicago: Joey ... dancing? ... near the pool. (I didn't know what this was when my own kid did it, either.)

Also still from Chicago: Shae bowling. Like a boss.

From when the Chicago peeps came to visit: Joey in the pool, for realsies. (Sorry for graininess - Instagram.)

Also from when the Chicago peeps came to visit: Our adorable (grand)children, because they are adorable, duh.

Also from when the Chicago peeps came to visit: even when she's being a grumpus, Shae still has a pretty cute face.

Later, gators!