Hooray for Dollywood!

Around 9 o'clock this morning, I dropped the boys off at their Nan and Pop's and headed home to meet up with my friends Leslie and Kerry. We'd made plans to head to Dollywood and after chasing down a BBQ joint that, in spite of what Trip Advisor says, doesn't appear to have been open, since 1997, we made it. 

Our visit was spectacular; it was made all the more so by my complete ineptitude with my  (apparently too) rarely-used Selfie Stick and the ritual renaming of certain blends of essential oils (among them, "Neck Ease," "Migraine Be Gone," and "Go-to-Sleep").

Here we're laughing at how horribly I handle
the Selfie Stick. I cannot figure that thing out.

We talked all day about how differently it is to ride rides as 38 year olds, as opposed to riding them as 16 year olds. They were all AMAZING, but after each, we were all creaky and achy and slightly more woosy than we used to be - which is why Les and I drove home, rubbing "Neck Ease" on our backs and shoulders and why I fell dead asleep at 10:30 p.m. after drinking a 32 ounce Coke at 7 p.m.

Though I talked about my boys so much that I constantly apologized for being *that* mama, I still had so much fun with these girls and cannot wait  to go back ... and I won't have to wait long.

We're planning biannual trips back!

Again, we were laughing at my Selfie Stick idiocy.

Meta

I think Les should make this her profile
picture, but she refuses.

I rode a Scrambler, because Leslie wanted to.
The things we do for love ...

Leslie talked all day about getting pictures with Rudolph.
Her wish is our command. 

Photo of the Day -
one of about 42 "burst" images
taken thanks to a Selfie Stick
malfunction (thus the laughter)

a Moment for Mama

Who says selfies are just for teenagers?!

(This blog isn't about me, but it IS for me and by me. That's why I'm posting this anecdote - and others like it - that I want to remember as much as I do stories about the boys. You okay with that? Thanks for understanding.)

I know my husband is handsome.

What I'm learning more and more, though, is that he's also really wise. Take, for instance, last nite. I was whining, complaining about having a less-than-stellar week of Weight Watching, imagining that a few caloric improprieties would lead to double digit gains in the same amount of time it'd take me to polish off a Papa John's pizza. After doing the diet so well for so many weeks, I didn't just fall off the wagon. I took the wheels off of it.

Son of a beesting.

Jeremy doesn't know this, but I complain about these things to him in hopes that he can somehow fix them.  Can't he erase the calories? Doesn't he have a pill I can take to undo what I did? Well?!? DOESN'T HE?!!?

He may not have a pill, but he did make me feel better. Sitting on the window seat, pulling on the legs of his flannel pajama bottoms, he said this:

"Even the best rounds of golf have some bogeys in them."

Well, now.

Why didn't I think of that?