When the Indentured Play

It happened. Just as I promised. I went camping at Virginia Beach with all six Masters of the Universe and I, the Queen of Everything, lived to tell. So here it is, in all the gory, scatter-brained-because-I-have-memory-problems details. You should probably sit down first.

The drive out wasn't too bad, four plus hours in the car with the windows down and the stereo cranked up so I couldn't hear a darned thing that wasn't right up next to my ear. I think everyone got along ok, but I really wouldn't know.

Day 1- went just fine. We arrived, set up, discovered all the things we forgot, even though some of those things were on the "Do Not Forget to Bring This" list, and made dinner. Actually, I had to make dinner twice, on account of a certain someone's dietary restrictions and inability to eat the same slop that everyone else eats. I'm usually on a low-slop diet, but in this case, I was too hungry to turn my nose up at the mac & cheese w/salmon and green beans (One pot meals are my specialty) because of the crazy notion that I would live on diet bars for the duration of my time away and come home having lost eight pounds.

Right.

After dinner, we went to the beach until dark. Number five nearly drowned, but learned a valuable lesson, and the rest of my royal herd shivered and shook and laughed because it was such a joy to walk, jump, and dance in the waves. We then went home (aka, our tent) to discover that sleeping on the ground in a campground with over a thousand sites--all packed to the gills--was not as glamorous as one might imagine from the comfort of their air-conditioned homes. Furthermore, I can officially state that camping is NOT on my life's list of to-do's now, or anywhere in the foreseeable future. At all.

Day 2- That would be Saturday. I didn't sleep much, and it looked like it might rain, so I convinced the six pack that going to the aquarium would be loads of fun and we could hop on the beach later in the evening. Many, many hours later, and some ninety dollars lighter, we emerge from the deep-sea exhibits with sting-ray-slimed hands, much whining, and a shaking of the knees syndrome. My eyes are losing focus (guess who didn't pack any Tylenol) and all I can think of is shutting them. So I, and the biggest whiners, take a short break back at the tent and leave the rest of the galaxy to look after itself for the sake of nap time. Upon waking, we join a group of our friends for a pot-luck dinner, after which it is too late to tromp in the sand and we end the day to the sour tune of, "We didn't get to go to the beach today!" ringing in my ears.

Is it time to go home yet?

Day 3- Who goes to church while on vacation, you ask? I do. And I drag my little heathens with me to better their immortal souls. From what I heard of the service, it was quite enjoyable, but don't ask me what it was about, because all I remember was the two loudest voices in the room, alternating between barking like dogs and meowing like cats. The Masters of the Universe are sooo talented, you see. Yeah. A reeking stench wafts up from dog/cat #1 and I know that we must head back to HQ for another emergency shower. More beach,followed by another pot-luck... I really didn't think it would rain, but lo, we barely bite into the watermelon and thunder cracks the sky, letting water rain down on everything and give us all the shower we couldn't get earlier in the day. That was fun. Until Goddess In Training #1 remembers that we left the tent open.

Suffice it to say that I know how to spell misery with a capital W. But a ray of light you soon will see in this, the gift that was giv'n to me. I have the best friends in the world, one of which had an air-conditioned RV with LOTS of extra beds (all dry) and a willingness to share them. May her place in heaven be ever assured.

Day 4- Beach. Again. I'm about done with beaches by now. The temperature has soared up over 100 and no amount of sunscreen will save me. I'm also done cooking. Pizza Hut, how we love thee, with cheesy garlic bread done up so nice, peperoni and pineapple pizza, just right. OK, enough with the verses. The only reason to brave the scorching sands again is to retrieve our stuff and retreat to a cooler place. Brave #6 discovers a new love at the pool, and desperately wants to become a fish. I, on the other hand, am charged with bringing six, living, breathing children back home (not the tent-home, but the other one) and soon tire of "CATCH ME, MOM!" right before he throws himself into the pool.

One last trip to the beach, this time at night. We have the most fun here. Who knew glow sticks could bring so much joy. Almost like getting a box...

Day 5- I'm done. In fact, I'm over-done. Stick a fork in me. We could have done something else, but all I really want is to never see that municipal bathroom again, with its low pressure showers and running toilets, hairy sinks and slippery floors. The tent is full of sand, along with everything else. A mysterious critter has used our table as a toilet and the pounding in my head may be due to the allergy pills I forgot to pack, or the children who keep calling out for some person called "Mom". Whoever she is, I feel sorry for her.

We go home, looking desperately for every available rest-stop along the way because if you give a small child a whole bottle of Sobe, they are going to drink it all, and it's just a teensy bit funny to hear that pitiful sobbing from a boy with a bladder too full. I know, I'm heartless, but this is from the child who has frequent "accidents" but absolutely will not pee on the side of the road.

So that's about it. We got home and the children made bee-lines for technology, that is the DVD-player and computer/internet. We communed with nature, made some memories, and I am SOO glad to be home. I can't help thinking that I have about two weeks to recover from this vacation before the whole Summer Break is unleashed upon me. Shiver.


Magic Under Glass by Jaclyn Dolamore--

There was a big fuss made over this book and its original cover, a racial issue that I supported 100%. When the book became available at my library, I was happy to see that a new cover had been made for the novel and I snapped it up. However, putting aside the book's fame, I'll get on to what I thought of the content. The premise was pleasing and the first few chapters gave me the happy feeling of finding a good read. But as the story progressed, that happy feeling turned to a sour cramp in my gut. Unnatural dialogue and too convenient plot twists moved this story along like a square peg through a round hole. In no way was this the worst first book I've ever read, but the forced manner of Ms. Dolamore's writing ultimately turned me off to her new series.

Gregor and the Prophecy of Bane by Suzanne Collins--

Book two of the Underland Chronicles is just as exciting and mysterious as book one. Children of all ages have, and will continue to, enjoy this book.

Cheating at Solitaire by Ally Carter--

Another book by another of my favorite authors. I really like Ms. Carter's YA stuff, but this is equally fun to read and deserves attention by those who have enjoyed her other titles. It has a few choice words that I prefer not to read, but I've also read worse in books wearing the YA badge, so kudos to Carter for keeping this one relatively clean.