Laughing with you, not at you

My family is ultra competitive. We may seem fun and laid back, but we will compete over literally everything. If it’s not already a competition (say, breathing) we’ll make it into one (like who takes the most breaths per minute or who can go the longest without breathing.)

It’s a sickness, but I think it might be the secret to our closeness.

I once screamed “GET ON WITH IT WOMAN” to my grandpa’s wife when she was trying to come up with a clue while we played a family game of Taboo on Christmas Day. And I’m not ashamed to admit it. I mean, it’s a timed game.

It is with this background that I give you this email exchange with my aunts and uncles and parents and grandpa without further comment.

Aunt Lori (after she sent an emailing saying “right” instead of “write”: 

Correction: “write” a note. Jeez.

Lori’s Brother Dan:

Don’t worry sis, I’m sure everyone knows that you don’t not know how to spell and use good grammar.

Aunt Di:

I new that.

Aunt Shay:

Me two.

My Dad:

Leave Lori a loan!

Me:

Their, they’re, Lori! Don’t loose you’re good attitude about it. Its something that definately effects all of us at some point weather or not we want it too.

My Grandpa:

It looked write to me.

Lori’s Brother Dan:

The responses are hilarious! I am laughing so hard I think I’m going to pea in my pants.

Aunt Janet: 

Four reel now … where did we all go to skool?

Even who can be the most grammatically incorrect is a game. Which I obviously won. Grammatically Incorrect Champion of 2012!

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There’s really no good reason to look inside the mouth of a heaving toddler. My best friend found out the hard way.

When you’re on vacation, or any time really, you don’t want to be woken up from a dead sleep with “MEGHAN! MEGHAN! Come here! COME HERE!”

When you’re on vacation, you really don’t want to flip on the lights to see your best friend holding her child out at arms length with both of them covered in throw up.

Since I was still half asleep, I didn’t have to time to do anything but grab the baby, run him to the bathroom (facing away from me DUH!) and let him finish his business. If you’ve never seen a 2 year old throw up, it is literally the saddest thing in the world.

I’ll spare you fine folks the details, but as soon as I saw my little buddy boot it into the toilet, it was painfully clear that I had bribed him with one too many handfuls of M&Ms on our trek earlier that day. Or maybe it was the cannoli?

As I held the tiny chocoholic – diapered, whimpered and defeated – my friend was balling up her shirt and the baby’s onesie in a towel that she conveniently “forgot” to throw away or take care of the next day. Sorry, cleaning service!

Twenty minutes later, he was doing somersaults on the bed and trying to kick me in the head and I was trying not to throw up because I kept thinking about it. I have a weak stomach, y’all. These are the things you do for the ones you love. Also, I’ll remember this forever so I can hold it over my friend’s head in perpetuity!

True to my panicking nature, I made my friend take a sworn oath that I would not have to board a plane if anyone else got sick, which was a possibility since the little guy had already stuck his vomit-covered hand in my mouth. One of my worst nightmares is getting sick on an airplane and having to deal with what we proper Southern girls call “stomach issues” in the confined space of a tin can with 200 other people. My stomach is hurting just thinking about it.

I make parenting mistakes, with other people’s kids, so you don’t have to and the lessons here are plentiful.

Don’t ply your child to get into his/her stroller with handfuls of M&Ms, especially if you are walking for like 5 hours through the streets of Boston because that’s a lot of chocolate.

Above all, if your child is kind of gagging or heaving, do not pass GO, do not collect…whatever, you know what I mean. Just RUN to the bathroom and aim for the best.

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Whenever I tell people I’m taking a sabbatical, they either think I’m totally depressed and hate my job, some weird hippy college professor who still smokes weed on the weekends or not having sex for awhile (you’re thinking of celibate, Mr. Mensa!)

Not true.

I tried to think of a way to make this post funny because I try to think of a way to make everything funny, but it’s not really that funny. It’s just my life right now – for the next eight weeks – I was on vacation for the first two – as I take a mental break from doing the same thing for six years. That doesn’t mean I don’t like my job. In fact, I love what I do and I’m lucky that I was not only allowed but encouraged to take the time I wanted. But, being in the creative field is a brain strain sometimes and I needed a little time to recharge, learn some new things, sharpen my skills as a writer and just chill. Let’s be honest, I have a long time until I retire and I won’t be taking maternity leave any time soon unless a true miracle happens (not like that’s a vacation at all) so I needed a little something. Something new, something different. A reference point in my life where I can look back at think, yep…that’s when I made something happen for myself.

So, I have some plans, but I’m trying to keep myself open to saying “yes” to whatever comes along. I had the chance to take a wonderful trip to Disney with my family, see a friend get married in Colorado. I’ll be training for a half marathon. Writing and reading like crazy. Doing some projects around the house. Cooking. Probably catching up on my DVR and developing some new reality TV addictions (hi, Barter Kings and 7 Days of Sex!!) And, the best part, whatever else I feel like.

I have taken to talking to the dog, psyching myself up in the mirror to put on pants before 2 p.m., sat with my computer outside in 100 degree heat so I didn’t fall down the spiral of a Laguna Beach marathon, bought a pressure canner and drank a margarita during the day.  There’s not really a road map for sabbaticals so I’m just going with my gut here.

Please check in on me from time to time to make sure I don’t become a weird hoarder or mute or start wearing matching clothes with the dog.

What about you guys? What would you do on a 10-week sabbatical?

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So awhile back, my friends starting wearing leggings and I hated it and thought it was stupid. I was nervous to wear them because I didn’t want anyone to see my front privates. I didn’t think I had the right bod for it and all my shirts were too short. I didn’t get it.

Then, like a year later, I pretty much was exclusively wearing leggings for pants because it didn’t even feel like I had pants on and it was awesome. I’m a late adopter of trends.

This is how I feel like Bloggers in Sin City has bloomed in my heart. Last year, I was nervous. I didn’t want to show my front privates (I mean this as a metaphor for being nervous to meet new people BUT also that I didn’t want to literally flash strangers my vag) and I didn’t put myself out there the way I wanted and I felt weird when I left and everyone was writing sweet and squishy things about each other and I didn’t feel like I was getting it like every one else was.

But a year later, I totally, totally get it. Everything aligned and I felt like my heart and soul were totally pantless the whole time this year.

You know that type of love where you feel like someone should build a statue of you, have a parade in your honor, name a street or school after you because what you are doing, what you can accomplish together is so astronomically ridiculously grand that it has never happened before and must be immortalized for generations to worship? Yeah, me neither, but I think I heard a song about it.

But, that’s sort of how this weekend was. It really doesn’t make any sense that 60 bloggers from all walks of life, all ages, all levels of dancing ability (let’s be honest, people, some of us are not good dancers and we all know that it’s not me!) could come together for three days, many meeting each other for the first time, and just totally rock it out like they’ve be together forever. But, it totally works and you walk away in total love with the experience, ready to shout your hopes and dreams and goals from the rooftops, wanting to never stop laughing, and creating your best life. YES, all of that can happen in 72 hours. Sort of like hallucinogenic drugs, but more legal. Maybe you could find a handful of people who would even have a bananers idea like this, but only one could actually make it happen. If you don’t know Nicole, you need to change that right now because if you want your soul set on fire, she’s got the matches and probably the lighter fluid, too.

I want to say that you can’t understand it until you’ve been there. Not because I’m trying to be a jerk about it or a snob, but because it is beyond comprehension that all these people make such a cohesive group. That I decided to fly into San Diego instead of directly to Vegas so I could drive in with my roommate WHO I HAD NEVER MET BEFORE. My dad was worried that she would kidnap me and/or leave me in the desert for the vultures, but thankfully she was really skinny so I could totally take her. Plus, she’s too nice for that. Seriously, Swapp is the best roommate this blogger could ask for.

From start to finish, there were huge hugs, sparkly bikinis, Mad Men inspired fashion, so many laughs, dancing, winning money from my future husband, going to a bar made COMPLETELY OF ICE WTF?, nakedness (Cirque, not me), buffets, delicious caramels, condoms (not used, hi mom!), water made specifically for travel (what am I, a celebrity?), VIP pool status & my favorite Vegas hotel rooms, new friends, old friends.

See you next year, little biscuits.

(photo by the loverly Terra Bear!)

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So, the other day my friend Nicole had a great thought – isn’t it weird that some people who read our blogs have never even heard what our voices sound like? My real life friends and family who read obviously know what I sound like and say they can hear my voice telling them these stories. I think it really makes a difference!

So, because I am susceptible to peer pressure and Nicole asked nicely, I’ve taken one of my blog posts (I’m a Panicker…about the time I almost became a criminal) and recorded it.

Unlike other people, I think my voice sounds awesome. Like Valley girl meets pot head. Plus, I won a speech competition in like 7th grade so BOO YAH!

Is the story funnier or in any way different hearing me say it?

P.S. Thinking about reading people’s blogs when they don’t know what they sound like reminds of something weird I always think about. You know how you have photos with random people in the background that just walked in your shot. Isn’t it weird to think that someone is looking at a photo album right now, flipping through their most precious memories and your dumb ass is like in the background of the shot totally clueless?? WEIRD, RIGHT??!?

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