We survived Thanksgiving, and we’re still married, in case you were wondering after my last post.
As you know, My Beloved called from work last Monday to “suggest” that we leave later that same evening so we could get a head start on our Thanksgiving Festivities. Unfortunately, Hubby has very little patience for travel, especially with the offspring. Never mind that I flew from New York City to Seattle with a 2-year-old and a 16-month-old BY MYSELF. But that’s neither here nor there. (Except that I am awesome for doing so.)
On Tuesday and Wednesday we took the kids to the Great Wolf Lodge. This proved to be a good idea because they were able to burn lots of boy energy before being cooped up in the house at Granny and Papa’s. Unfortunately, I allowed my husband to check in while I stayed in the Swagger Wagon with two (and a half) boys who were unbuckled and poised at the doors in anticipation of water park enjoyment. He came out after having purchased an extra package o’ fun for the boys. There was so much fun involved, we almost didn’t get to complete the fun-having in our allotted two days. The fun was SO fun, at one point Large asked if we could save some fun for next time, and also “can’t we just get in bed and watch tv?”
Water parks, in general, do not bring out the best in me. I only look cute when I’m dry and lounging, save for the fact that I am a 37-year-old woman who wears two ponytails to the pool. I am not destined for bathing suit greatness, and water parks force me to acknowledge and embrace this fact. I have a variety of sassy little cover-ups for the pool. You will never see me struttin’ my stuff in a standard-issue towel because, in general, they don’t fit all the way around my voluptuousness. Water parks preclude the use of cover-ups, however, because you’re going to get wet, which means I have to stand in line in nothing but my swimsuit. This does not make me happy.
|"Man, that lady sure LOVES her kids!"|
Ever wonder why I LOVE my children so much at a water park? It’s because if I’m hugging them and holding their little bodies close to me, I can cover up this-area-right-here. (The areas to which I am referring are my gut, which makes me look like I’m wearing a fanny pack underneath my clothing, and my flat a$$, which is pretty much an extension of my back straight down into my legs.)
Furthermore, there is NO graceful way to mount a giant inner tube. Do I spread my legs wider than God intended and then sit? Do I position the tube and then flop backwards while praying that the tube has not shifted thereby causing me to fall a$$ forward into the water in front of all those nice people waiting their turns? Do I sit with my a$$ suctioned into the opening and my boobs literally resting on my knees? Do I step into the tube and then try to maneuver one leg out at a time, causing potential swimsuit slippage and inadvertent flashing of lady parts?
And then there’s this - I know I’m being a snob, but here goes: I have a strict flip-flop policy. People with ugly feet and/or unkempt toes should not be flashing those puppies around in sandals. There are a lot of ugly feet at a water park. In fact, water parks are rife with yellow toenails, ill-placed tattoos, and unsightly skin conditions. Please, for the love o’ pete, take care of that. The thought of lounging in the hot tub with some of the worst offenders makes me cringe . . . ALMOST as much as the fact that I actually had to explain to one of my children why we don’t drink the water from the hot tub: “Think of ALL the people whose bodies have been in this water. It’s like People Soup.”
|a steaming bowl o' People Soup|