I love looking at what people Google to get to the Camp ... usually it's pretty boring standard fare:
"Connie Britton Hair"
"Crying it out" (Simon will roll his eyes right now because Julia was up 99 times on Sunday night and guess which sucker of a mom went and listened to her specific requests? -- we turned the monitor off last night so you can pretend to pat my firm and disciplined back if you'd like)
etc etc etc
And then there are some that are giggly:
"onesie as diaper" (I'd love to hear how that worked out for you ... )
"Simon met Grace at party?" (not this Simace)
"mind over bodily fluid"
"hiking chapped pain butt paste"
"are culottes back in style?"
"candid mom in bra on couch"
"chubby housewife in socks"
But the search, "bad mom" is always always always on the list. Does that make me feel like a bad mom? Add one too many blog reads about the importance of fostering a creative spirit in your children by way of arts and crafts in the home, the dangers of listening to secular music around small children, or the multiple benefits of exclusively breastfeeding (which is great - and my children are probably doomed -- winkety wink) and maybe I feel like not the greatest mom for a second or ten.
Simon is the wise 1/2 of our marriage and tells me to rise above the nasty comments and I know I should but a couple of months ago some (sane) reader combed through over 1000 blog posts and listed every single mischievous thing the kids have ever ever done on my watch - some of the things were fabricated, some were exaggerated, and some were true. If her intentions were to make me feel like the worst mom ever - success! She won. I'm mostly over it (this is what we'll call closure - I guess) and Maggie - if you're still out there - I hope you're doing well.
Anyway ... this weekend we went to a nice lodge with Simon for one night for a work conference. I was not expecting the fanciest lodge in all of the land but that's what it was and if I had to guesstimate I'd say there were no fewer than ten dead animals on the walls (including a huge raccoon that Simon dreamt about).
(random church that Julia assumed was a princess castle because we are raising saintly little heathens)
The kids loved it. Julia kept asking if we were at "the trip" and she slept in a bed (NOT A CRIB ... there is hope) like a normal 2.8 year old
(this will be the picture - in the future - that Julia asks about, "you know that one picture of me looking so cute and notcreepy with my hair in a notmullet?!")
and Sebastian slept in the bathroom in a portacrib because the bathroom was the size of eight of our bathrooms and Theo slept in his car seat because ... we mean.
Saturday morning Simon woke up and did not shower (because you do not wake a sleeping Sebastian that was up until 11pm) and went to present his poster that had LARGE pictures of ... female anatomy and if Julia finds that poster and starts asking questions ... Simon can handle that precious moment. The kids woke up and I got them all set up with the smuggled muffin that Simon had stolen from his free breakfast and an episode of Dora Authentica (¡en español!) and popped in the shower.
I was lathering my hair with the fancy little shampoo from the fancy little bottle when I heard the hotel room's door open and slam. I peeked through the bathroom window (because I'm sure they had Grace Patton and Brood in mind when they designed the rooms) and saw one zombie of a Julia, one kicky Theodore and not one Sebastian.
I will not type all of the words I said from my post in the shower at this point but they were as sinny as you can imagine. This lodge was fancy but still had the towels that covered to about my tailbone but!!!!! robes - luxurious robes they had. I threw one on - white lathered hair and all and peered outside to find Sebastian chumming it up with a middle-aged couple down the hall ...
nice couple: where is your mommy?
nice couple: where did your mommy go?
nice couple: is he? no. is he eating deodorant?!
And that was my cue. I wished I'd been lathering my face to hide the bright red but ... of course not. I dragged deodorant breath back into the room ... and inspected the lock situation (door locks until it is opened - with no upper lock - dumb) finished my shower. Sebastian brought me Simon's now empty deodorant container that Simon had left out before he left and so I'm hoping that the new popular search will be, "bad dad" .... because ...
ain't no bad mom here.