Get In The Van. I Have Candy. Part 2

So, Part 2.
(Remember, sequels are NEVER better.)

We try to take a weeklong family vacation every summer so that I may make Shutterfly photo albums lovingly captioned with snarky descriptions of our hi-larious times together.  This way, when the kids are in their 30's and complaining about their bad childhoods, I can throw my stack of family fun and nutty hijinx on the table and say, "What now, you ungrateful bastards!?  You got nothin' on me and I have the Shutterfly books to prove it!"

As I mentioned in the last post, there was a lot of drama and even more Dramamine on the first leg of our trip.  (Fear not, Gentle Readers, the worst part of the trip is now over.)  We drove through Southern Illinois, which honestly makes Nebraska look a little exciting, and lo and behold, we saw a sign for Metropolis.  Wha?  You mean SUPERMAN's hometown?  Current Husband is a huge fan of The Man of Steel, so SNAP! We fell right into the Tourist Trap.

Poor YD was still not feeling great. 

But c'mon, honey, rally!  It's Superman!

It's a bird!  It's a plane! 

No, it's my new gigantic knockers!

Able to leap bored housewives in a single bound? 

I certainly hope so.

(And?  When am I going to learn to

suck in my gut for pictures?)

At 11 p.m., we finally rolled into our friends' driveway in Atlanta.  The family we visited moved from our hood over a year ago, and they're the kind of people who will not only let you fly your freak flag, they will raise your freak flag if it isn't up already.  Needless to say, good time were had by all.

The kids played the "I'm the floating head creeping

in the back of your picture" game all week.

We occupied the kids so we could go out drinking.

(Oh put the phone down, they did it to themselves.)

And YD organized a game of Marco Polo,

but apparently she misunderstood the rules.

We really went to Atlanta just to visit our friends, so we didn't go out too much, and besides, it was about 175 degrees outside, plus humidity, which brought the heat index to 280 degrees.  The only thing that could cure our Beiber fever was a bartender with cold chardonnay and a moustache tattooed on his finger.  We were in luck.

He is known in Downtown Decatur as Chardonnay Tony.  

We stayed up talking into the night.  (Back to the friends, not Chardonnay Tony.) We awoke in mid-morning, and drank the best French press coffee ever. (Me and Tony.  Obviously.) We ate.  We drank.  We lounged.  Then we drank a little more.  We watched the funniest damn PBS special ever, which my friend Angie gave to me and has absolutely changed my life, simply called "Ferrets".  It about ferret breeders and the biggest ferret show in the country, The Buckeye Bash.  Here is a little snippet for you, but I HIGHLY recommend you buy your own copy:

That damn ferret song goes through my head all the time.  Then I made them watch this classic movie, because doesn't EVERYONE sit with friends they haven't seen in a year and watch ferret videos and cheesy 70's movies?

Oh yes, Barbra.  My love for you is ageless and evergreen.

And thank you for covering Kris Kristofferson's nipple.

There are so many terrific things about spending time with people you love, but of course, all good things must come to an end.  We pulled away from Hotlanta and headed for the hills of Tennessee, where we enjoyed our Family Stalker Adventure in Nashville.  Stay tuned for Part 3 of "Get In The Van, I Have Candy".  It's like you are trapped on vacation WITH me.  The call is coming from inside the van...get out!

   

The Happy Spot

All of you mandatory reporters and Department of Human Services folks can sharpen your pencils and get out a new manila folder, my family might be back on your radar in the next week.

I blame it all on Current Husband (CH) and his plan for cable domination.

CH had one of his "There HAS To Be A Better Way" moments and cancelled our cable, thinking we could figure out how to watch everything we like on the Internet. To his credit, the kids are watching much less TV and reading more books. To his great dismay, I've been missing Project Runway and Mad Men. This is to his dismay, because during the scheduled times of my shows, I walk around the house with a glass of wine and a cleaver and mutter under my breath about missing the things in life that bring me joy. Because of him. But at least he isn't pretending to send one of the kids up in a "science balloon" or pimping me out to Wife Swap, so there's that.

But I digress.

Since we no longer have the Toxic Twins that are Disney and Nickelodeon in our home, the only TV the kids are really interested in is PBS. My youngest has been enjoying catching up with Clifford the Big Red Dog. The other day, in between giving children a ride on his Big Red Back and accidentally ripping up Mr. Bleakman's garden, Clifford wanted Emily Elizabeth to scratch his Happy Spot, which would make Clifford's leg move. This entertained my youngest daughter to no end. She couldn't get enough of watching Clifford move his leg when scratched.

A few days later, I'm in my bedroom folding clothes. CH is laying on the bed, enjoying football and watching me be his domestic slave, when our daughter runs into the room, jumps on the bed, and starts scratching CH's back. Suddenly, I stop folding CH's boxers and look up in horror. What did she just say?

YD: "Where is it, Daddy?"
CH: "Lower, it's lower..."
YD: "Is THIS your Happy Spot?"
CH: "No, lower...that's it...you got it!"

And then CH starts shaking his leg and Youngest Daughter shrieks in glee. She jumps off the bed and runs from the room to find someone else's Happy Spot. She is happy. CH is happy. I am alarmed. I decide to kill CH's buzz.


ME: "Um, honey, what is that all about?"
CH: "She liked that Clifford show, so she finds the Happy Spot and I'm Clifford."
ME: "You DO know how this is going to sound at school, right?"
CH: "Uh, NO."
ME: 'I spent the weekend in bed with Daddy rubbing his Happy Spot!"
CH: "Oh no."
ME: "Oh yes."

Every Monday morning, the first graders do a chart that shows what they did over the weekend. It is like a flower, with the main activity in the middle and the activities associated with the main activity branched off. Here is how I pictured Youngest Daughter's Weekend Chart: Rubbed the Happy Spot - with Daddy - in his bed - his leg moved - he's a dog - our special game.

I had to take action. The only way to get Rubbing the Happy Spot off of the school chart was to come up with a better activity. And this is why you could find my family at the IMAX theater this afternoon watching the last Harry Potter movie, with my youngest daughter in a formal dress and her favorite fake Uggs, an owl hat someone knit for her, three boxes of candy on her lap, and a Sprite in her hand. Because money might not Buy Me Love, but sugar will buy her silence, and if diversionary tactics keep the DHS off my doorstep, my work here is done.


Clifford The Big Red Dog using some kid's head to rub his Happy Spot.