The last two days have been absolute disasters in terms of sumer activities.

Yesterday I packed up everyone, loaded up diaper bags, stroller, sunscreen, hats, sunglasses, camera, etc, etc, and drove us 45 minutes out of Seattle to pick blueberries. I had baby J all hepped up for the petting zoo and the pony rides–to the point that he was chanting HORSIE! HORSIE! the last 10 minutes of the drive.

After parking and unloading, we discover that the farm closes in 20 minutes and that the pony rides are closed.

When I was buckling J in for the drive back to Seattle, he was sobbing and saying NO BLUE CAR MOMMY!, w hich you can kind of understand, right?

Anyway, today I was going to make up for it with a trip to the beach. Again, we load up everything and we’re all set with swim diapers and sunscreen and sun hats and beach towels. We spread out our towels and set up shop and the weather is perfect…beyond perfect even. J wanders down to the edge of the water and starts playing in the sand….and about 10 minutes later lets out the most unholy scream and holds his foot up.

I race over and he has punctured the bottom of his foot…wait for it….with a fish fin.

No, really. A huge spiky fish fin is implanted in the bottom of his foot, blood is pouring out of the wound, a crowd has gathered, and J is going wild.

I didn’t know what else to do so I pulled it out, wrapped his foot with the edge of the beach towel, and then carried him howling BAD FISH! BAD FISH! back to the car. All 11 blocks. During the walk, I realize he has a poopy diaper.

It was a low point in parenting history, I assure you.

Tomorrow, though, is another day and I’m aiming high for a day that transcends the errors of yesterday and today.

Sincerely, ever hopeful,



Today our mail yielded a BONANZA!

Not one, but TWO letters from D at summer camp.

Okay, it was really a postcard and a form that I sent to make letter writing easier.

Whatever, he’s alive! He has a top bunk! And…best of all…he says camp is “awesome”!

Yours, resting easier,



M is the one on the far right, Mohawk Kid is in the middle.

Good thing my kids aren’t in sports where you can yell from the sidelines…listening to myself, I am pretty sure I sound like the crazy little league mom.