My daughter decided to chop off eight inches of her hair while we were on vacation. I (mostly) try to support her when she makes her own decisions. So, a visit to SuperCuts in Kihei, Maui, and 25 minutes later: done.
Why did she do it?
a. She wanted a change.
b. She likes to make her own decisions.
c. Her hair was so tangled from salt water and chorine that she was forced to cut it.
I just got back from Hawaii and saw some lovely coconuts!
Code. And not code.
Botanically speaking, a coconut is a fibrous, one-seeded drupe.
On my trip, I didn’t see any hairy, brown, and hard “drupes.” You know, the coconuts you can buy at Safeway on the mainland.
I learned that a fresh, young coconut is green. When you visit a roadside stand, you can drink from one. And sip the splendor that is coconut milk. And if you’re lucky, after you’ve had your fill, a Hawaiian native will take his machete and carve off the outer layer, to expose the juicy meat of the coconut for you to partake.
Actually it was the middle lane of the freeway, as we were cruising en route to the tulip fields.
Then, I heard the five words you don’t really want to hear when you’re cruising en route to the tulip fields.
Mom. I. Just. Threw. Up.
Quick. Time to use my Mom instincts. Otherwise known as vomit ninja instincts. I think my eight-year-old son was a little shocked at my lightning-fast skills. Especially, as I only had one baby wipe left and no “just-in-case outfit” packed. I was kinda done hauling around back-up clothes for my kids. Oops.
Here’s what transpired, in like 4 seconds:
We pulled off at the next exit and came to a screeching stop. Well, whaddya know. The next exit happened to be a rest stop.
I rolled down the windows before the warm stench filled the air, causing everyone to gag.
I lept out of the car and undid my son’s seatbelt–carefully and swiftly–so as not to propel bits of whatnot everywhere.
I used the one baby wipe to scoop off the excess and lifted him out of the car to remove his t-shirt (and promptly threw it in the trash).
We went to the bathroom to wash off with cold water, paper towels, and no soap.
Bought him a Sprite at the vending machine.
And bam. We were back on the freeway, with a stopover at Walmart, where we bought him a new t-shirt and shorts, hand sanitizer, and wipes.
With his tummy feeling better, we made it to the tulip field and ended up having a lovely afternoon.
My son scored a new outfit. And I scored a new title, Vomit Ninja, as he took this photo of me (looking a little bit powerful, I must say).
Remember when you were a child and you thought “when I grow up, I can do whatever I want?”
Adulthood. It’s when you get do whatever you want! It’s when get to buy whatever you want!
When my husband and I were newly married, I bought something I had always wanted, because I could. I bought a 12-foot trampoline to go smack in the middle of our yard. To me, jumping on a trampoline = bliss.
When the trampoline was delivered, I was giddy! My husband and I promptly set it up in the yard and we proceeded to jump. And jump. We jumped for two hours straight. And then.
Ugh. We got the worst headaches. Too much jiggling our brains, I guess.
It was the saddest realization: I was too old to jump on my beloved trampoline. We took it down, boxed it up, and shipped it back.
I took a weekly picture of my puppy and daughter for an entire year, to capture the moments and to watch how much they changed in one year’s time. He grew a little faster than she did.
Looking through these photos bring back vivid memories for our family. Seasons filled with laughter and silliness, frustrations and mess, teaching and energy, cuddling and love.
It was just your typical Saturday night around here.
We cranked up some of my favorite dance songs from “way back when,” turned on the disco ball, and proceeded to have an impromptu dance party. That’s the best kind.
I taught my seven-year-old a thing or two about ’80s rap. And he taught me a thing or two about some crazy-cool dance moves.
Here are my top 13 favorite dance songs from long ago:
When you make cookies as ugly as I do, you might as well call them what they look like: buffalo turds.
Just take your favorite oatmeal cookie recipe and healthify it. Swap the white flour with oat flour. Swap the sugar with pureed dates. Add in some coconut, dried cranberries, and flax seed. And presto, you’ve got yourself fiber-rich “buffalo turds.”
Kids! Come and get ‘em!
And you know what? They disappear about as quickly as the buffalo did a century ago. Fotunately, the American Bison are being reborn and the herds–and turds–are multiplying.
You can read more about these lovely creatures here:
I energetically mother three children: 14, 10, and 8, am married to my college sweetheart, and have two dogs. My life is full of laughs. eye rolls, love, and laundry. I'm friendly and genuine and blog about my bumbling life.
