A Boy and his Train....by pemora

My 4yo son used to be extremely attached to Thomas the Tank Engine. So much so, that we (meaning I) had to carry several Thomases (Thomasi?) around, in the event that he would misplace it. Oh, the tears.

He has since moved on to monster trucks and superheroes and Legos. This is AFTER purchasing the whole island of Sodor and every single one of Thomas' friends. His little sister better love Thomas.

All this to say that this video is super cute. And makes me think of the days when I believed a beloved toy could conquer the world.

Date Night....by pemora

Our awesome newish* sitter emails us when she has free evenings, to see if we would like to go out. The bd and me. Just us, no littles. It is an amazing thing and I jump at the opportunity to do so.

When we have date night, the bd always asks if I would like to go out to a fancy dinner or see a movie or do something interactive and fun. My response? Always? BAR. A bar, any bar, get me to a bar. I just want to sit on a high stool, talk to a bartender and clink glasses with the bd.

I'm not going to get into the whole story of last night's fun at the bar but I will tell you that I am feeling it today. Too many glasses of wine, not enough petite burgers. (why couldn't they just call them sliders?) Where is my damn coconut water?

image via REALITYTVGIFs

*newish because we know her but only started using her as a sitter early this summer...actually, this is the 1st sitter the kids have ever had b/c I totally believe in stranger danger. So, yep, 1st sitter in 5 years. It is crazy, I know.

Camp Anxiety.....by pemora

There have been some very anxious feelings in my house due to the beginning of camp. VERY anxious...I'm talking about Oprah-ugly-cry tears, tummy aches, calls to mommy for help.

And I'm talking about me.

I have not been dealing well with my son's participation in camp. It has been too much for my poor little heart. Mind you, he is only there for 4 hours and the "camp" is 7 minutes from my house. But, still...anxiety. My friends and sister, who reached out to me yesterday, kept on asking me the same question: what are you so worried about?

The chupacabra?

No, seriously. So much worries me. I actually don't really understand the concept of camp. Despite having worked in one the summer before I left for college and having several friends attend as children, I don't get it. My sister and I never experienced camp. We were shipped off to the motherland (Puerto Rico), picking mangoes, swimming in El Dorado beach, watching cheesy telenovelas with my grandmother. THAT was a summer experience to me. Camp? That's a dirty four letter word in my culture....

All morning, I had visions of this:

Yes, Karate Kid. I envisioned my son as a 4-year-old Ralph Macchio being bullied by the big ol' blonde preppy....and then, in my full blown panic attack mode, I saw my son learning wax on, wax off by the slide in order to combat the bully. This whole scene played out in my mind several times over, causing the avalanche of tears. Wax on, wax off, people!

Of course, he loved camp and was eager to return. Ugh. I was kind of hoping he would hate it and beg me to stay home. Today is the 2nd day and I am only slightly better. After dropping him off, I decided to stop by CVS and buy a crapload of sh!t to distract me:

Those slim jims are definitely not mine. No, ma'am, never that.

I am also watching Maury and jumping off the couch whenever someone does a "you are NOT the father" dance. Love those dances. I can get down with that.