My Real Life

1.  My sister-in-law posted a similar photo, on Facebook, of my nephew, last week, so I guess that answers the question of “Where did he get those lashes?”

And it ain’t from me, folks!

2.  Sometimes, at the end of a long, busy toddler day…

The Wiggles are a godsend.

3.  The lifeguard tournament was last night.

Very exciting.

The lifeguards from our beach won, and the monkeys thought that was awesome.

One of the lifeguards from our beach is actually going to nationals, and these competitions are grueling.

Very impressive.

It’s made cooler for the monkeys by the fact that you really get to know these guards because the beach where we stay with my parents is made up of only one street of people, so the four lifeguards are the only lifeguards…no switching from stand to stand.

So, the kids felt cool that they “knew” Joe, Zach, Anthony, and Austin.

Good times.

4.  Real Man and I have been continuing our speed walks every morning.

It’s great and we feel exhausted and sweaty and gross, but so good when they are done.

It’s about 3.6 miles, which isn’t huge, according to the stats on the runs and bike rides my Facebook friends are doing, but it’s good for us.

There are so many people out jogging while we’re out there, and I have to say, I’m so impressed with joggers.

I’ve tried to jog, and I don’t know if I don’t have the stamina or if I just don’t really care to run, but it didn’t work for me.

I’ve thought about the Couch to 5K program, but when I think about it, that’s pretty much as far as it goes.

Because, I really don’t want to run.

I love my walks, but running isn’t for me.

However, I’m impressed as hell with people who do it, and I realize I’d probably be in such better shape if I actually did jog.

But…running.

Ick.

5.  Every beach house I’ve stayed in, as an adult, leaves some movies for their VHS player.

Some have DVD players, but most still have VHS players.

I love seeing the selection they have for their renters to watch.

This house has “Galaxy Quest,” “Flubber,” “Mouse Hunt,” “Crocodile Dundee,” and so many more.

We don’t really watch movies while we’re here, so it doesn’t matter that much to me, but there is something that always makes me smile, first of all, at the VHS tapes, secondly at the choices.

I wonder if it’s a case of “Ooh, I think our guests would love to see “Crocodile Dundee!”

Or, if it’s more along the lines of “Geez, I can’t seem to get anyone to buy these old VHS tapes on eBay.  Let’s just leave them for the renters.”

In any case, there’s a certain comfort in seeing these old movies.

6.  Along the lines of “you can’t make this stuff up,” the other night, I took the monkeys to the park after dinner.

While we were playing, two teenagers and a boy who was about 10 arrived.

They were playing around, being goofy, and then one of the teenagers said to the 10 year old, “Hey, let’s put you in the baby swing!”

Wanting to please the big guys, the 10 year old said, “Sure!”

This boy was a larger boy, and as soon as he was in, they realized they had made a mistake.

They tried to get him out, but they couldn’t, and their efforts were just cementing him in the seat, even further.

The leg holes appeared to be cutting into his legs (not through the skin, but you know what I mean.)

We were on our way out, but all I could think was, if one of my kids was in trouble and there was an adult around who could have helped, but didn’t, I’d be furious.

So, I told the monkeys to stay put and walked over.

I told the one teenager to get down on all fours, like a table, and for swing boy to try to stand on his back, to release his weight from the swing, and maybe we could pull it off.

Kid was so stuck and at such a strange angle, he couldn’t really even stand.

I told the other teenager to go get a parent.

Then, I told swing boy to hold his hands high and try to pull himself up, and we’d try to pull the swing down.

Didn’t work.

The other teenager came back and said that his Dad was in the bathroom and couldn’t come.

Fantastic.

The boys were all nervous, and swing boy was starting to get teary.

When teenage boys get nervous, you know it’s time for action.

So, finally I said, “Okay, I know you don’t know me, so sorry for this,” but I went behind him and grabbed him under the arms and around the chest, told him to pull himself on the chain and pull while I pulled back and told the other kids to pull at the swing.

Like a cork in a bottle, he finally popped out.

They thanked me profusely, I gathered the monkeys and we were on our way.

Good times.