Rachel Callahan

I REFUSE to be Vintagicated!

August 17, 2009 Rachel Callahan Don't Listen to my Fashion Advice

When the 80’s fashions came back in style a couple of years ago, it didn’t bother me.

Sure, they were horrid and ugly and I couldn’t understand who would want to wear them and all that, but it wasn’t personal. After all, I was just a child in the 80’s (0 – 8 years old), so if I HAD worn 80’s trends, they were very kidded-down versions.

However, this fall’s 90’s Throwback fashions are offending me.

Not in the offensively immodest way (they are quite the opposite, really), but in the “Am I Really Old Enough For This To Be Happening To Me?!?!?!” way.

I remember when “Bell-Bottoms” came back in style, and my Mom was so horrified that they were “back”. I didn’t understand – “Really? Come on, Mom – they’re vintage and great!!”

But now I understand how she felt. Plaid??!! Back?? Cool?? How can that be cool? They were so unattractive and shapeless and horrid.

(Or is it just the visual of my awkward High School self seared into my mind that is making them seem so horrible?)

At any rate, since I am OBVIOUSLY not old enough for this to be happening to me, I am fighting back with this post, in which I will be exposing the crimes of the 2009 Reenactment of Plaid Fad.

To do my research, I canvassed the currently for sale Plaid “fashions” (and I DO use that term lightly), and have them here for your review. And, unfortunately, there was SO MUCH plaid to be found that every website I went to had choices like these in the sidebar:

Shirts
Pants
Skirts
Dresses
PLAID PLAID PLAID
Accessories
Shoes
Denim

Don’t believe me?

Yes, the plaid epidemic is THAT bad. It’s more widespread than the Swine Flu ever thought of being.

Unfortunately, they didn’t go back to the 90’s and just bring back our awful plaids. they also brought back the ever unflattering and potato-sack-shape-inducing drop-waisted dress:

Which, when combined with plaid, looks like something that my Great-Grandmother used to sleep in. Or maybe the Ingall girls in Little House in the Prairie. All it needs is the long, white night-cap from “The Night before Christmas” to go with it.

They also brought back the standard, plain, nothing-interesting-about-it Plaid shirt:
I had one nearly just like it that I treasured and adored. During my most dark days of Early High School fashion judgment.

My other favorite plaid shirt was a combination of these two:

Yes, it was Christmas Red-And-Green. And it was so long and overly bulky that it had a half-dollar sized rip in the side that you couldn’t even see because there was so much dang billowing plaid fabric.

Another great plaid fashion trend that we see back this fall is the Geezer Dress Shirt (that is always so old it is yellowed with age and cigarette smoke):

EVEN OLD MEN QUIT WEARING THOSE. Seriously – if one could puke plaid, THAT would be what it would look like.

Although on most accounts (including all referenced so far) it is obvious that they haven’t tried this, there are a couple instances where they’ve actually attempted something more impossible than sitting through the entire movie of Gigli and actually liking it: They’ve attempted to make plaid sexy:I’m pretty sure that the words “strapless” and “plaid” have never, ever been placed next to each other until this year.

And there was a VERY good reason for that.

Speaking of Daisy Duke, they’ve also brought back the horrid western plaid look:

Don’t worry – if you’re more of a carnival girl than a western girl, you can choose the cotton-candy plaid:

Of if you have a more somber occasion to attend, there’s the black-lace-funeral-dirge plaid:

I’m sure that someone in the food chain of designers realized that the standard plaid shirt had no waist definition and therefore was NOT flattering in any way, so they made it all the more “Little House on the Prairie-ish” by adding this gorgeous pintuck-and-flow option:That shirt is looking for it’s covered wagon and bonnet if you see any wandering around.

And, of course, they couldn’t limit the damage to shirts only. Plaid has infiltrated the dress,
Of which attempts were made to “modern it up” by adding the haute bubble dress look,

And the weird window-drapey-skirt look. (Which, by the way, don’t bend over while wearing. I saw someone wearing one of these (non-plaid) dresses at Church bend over to pick up their kid and I could see their plaid underwear. Except that it wasn’t plaid.)

And, of course, what 2009 wardrobe is complete without a pair of plaid leggings?

Okay. I somehow feel vindicated now.

Just please, please, PLEASE tell me that kids these days don’t refer to plaid as “Vintage”.

Oh no.

I just said “Kids these days”.

Next thing you know, I’m going to be rocking on the front porch, popping my dentures in and out, trying to sort my 57 medications into my “pill of the day” container and talking about how my hemorrhoids are causin’ my goiter to act up.

All sinfully indecently ugly plaids in this post were found at the Belk, Kohl’s and Delia’s websites. I will be looking for their letters of gratitude and payment for my shameless promotion of their products post-haste.

Eleven Adventures, Beach Style.

August 15, 2009 Rachel Callahan I embarrass myself just for your amusement., Toddlers: The Experience, Yes I'm a beach bum. What of it?

1. Pool Adventures:

Ali got another poolside lunch. And, since she’s such a slow eater, she had plenty of time to get dry..

And then, a mysterious and quite gushing amount of liquid dripped down under her chair (to join the abandoned fry): …which reminds me…swim diapers ONLY hold in solids.

Lovely thought, huh?

Chris put Ali to work pulling him around the baby pool:

But she quickly figured out where the real meaning of the pool could be found:

Which makes me wonder if that swim diaper had any more overflows while she was sitting there…

Ew.

2. Toenails and sand DON’T mix.

(This one’s for Mama Hen and Jill, as this is their pet peeve.)

After we came in from the sand, one of my big toe’s toenail polish was sticking straight up. I tried to tear off the bit that was loose, and the entire toenail polish came off in two big hunks:

so I was left in this very un-fit situation,

And of course I forgot to bring replacement nail polish. And you know, you do weird things when you’re on vacation…you let all of those inhibitions down and end up making decisions like this:

My justification: It matched my swimsuit.

Odd thing is, the same thing happened to Kitty the very same day:

But for some reason, she didn’t choose to join me on the blue wagon. Not sure why.

3. Pink Ice Cream

The last time Ali stayed with Mom and Dad, Dad decided that he would potty-train Ali. Since, after all, he was the one who taught her to walk.

However, just in case you’re wondering, there is precious little in common about teaching a child to walk and teaching them to use a toilet for more than a pommel horse.

But I digress. Anyway, he had told her to name one thing – anything in the world – that she wanted, and he would get it for her if she used the potty. She very quickly answered that she would want Pink Ice Cream.

She’s never had Pink Ice Cream nor had she ever mentioned it before that point, but apparently this was a lifelong dream of hers.

She didn’t achieve her goals on that trip to Mom and Dad’s, so she didn’t earn her P.I.C. However, thanks to an Ice Cream Parlor here at the hotel, we were able to mark that item off of her bucket list:
And, actually, it was even BETTER than Pink Ice Cream, because it was Pink, Orange, and Green Ice Cream:

4. Driving Lessons.

Ali woke up from her nap on Friday in the oddest ever ~~Complete And Total Meltdown~~ funk – VERY out of character for her. She couldn’t quite get out of it, so we decided to take her to the arcade (also in the hotel) to distract her from whatever uninvited hormones had attacked her while she was sleeping.

It worked perfectly, and she was quite the studious apprentice as I taught her how to drive at 188mph.

In fact, her expression never changed for the entire race:

She learned valuable driving lessons such as:

You can drive off the edge of a cliff and magically appear back on the road,
you can run head first into other cars and be able to keep on driving as if nothing happened,
and that the best way to drive is to keep your foot all the way down on the gas, while the brake pedal is just some unnecessary extra appendage like a gall bladder that’s not really useful for anything.

She’s ready to hit the roads now.

5. The New Pier

They just opened the brand new pier at the Gulf State Park (The other one was destroyed by Ivan, I’m pretty sure).

It’s a pretty long walk for people with shorter-than-average legs:

But the trek was SO worth it. We just happened to hit it right at sunset:

6. Dancing With the Aged

After our second night of Pink Ice Cream, we were about to head up for Ali’s bedtime when we realized that they were playing live music in the lobby. Knowing that Ali would love it, we took her up to see it.

We found un unobtrusive corner to stand in and let her continue her mesmerization with the piano and sax players/singers (that Simon Cowell likens every bad American Idol contestant to):

And then, all of a sudden as if they apparated from nowhere, we were surrounded by half a dozen Octogenarian Dancing couples making passes at grabbing each other’s booties:

Of which, of course, Ali was just as mesmerized by.

7. Lessons in What You Will Never Have.

We took Ali down to The Wharf to see all of the crazy-expensive yachts. Luckily, she was much more interested in swinging from the handrails than being Veruca Salt and demanding, “Doddy, I’D like a Yacht. And I’d like a Yacht Right Now!!”

8. Outlet Mall Adventures

We decided to waste some time at the Outlet Malls, of which Ali wanted to take the Great American Money Sucking Ride Tour (but, lucky for us, she hates it when they move, so no Money Sucking took place):

You don’t realize how many of those darned things they are until you’re in a indulging mood and let your kid play on all 6,573 of them.

During one of the above rides, I headed off to find the restroom. There was this crazy-long, self-promoting mural on the wall:

But the people were very oddly misshapen and unproportional…

It looked like the bodies were painted and real people were sticking their heads through the cut-outs and staring at me while in the restroom. Very awkward.

We also saw an interesting product or two. I love me some chocolate, but I’m not so sure about the ingredients to these bars:

“Why yes, I’d like some Endangered Chimpanzee Chocolate, please. I prefer the gamey taste.”

9. Lambert’s: Home of Throwed Rolls.

“WHY IS THERE A STEAMING TEN POUND ROLL FLYING TOWARD MY FACE?!?!?!”

10. Ferris Wheel.

Ali loves SEEING the Ferris Wheel, but when we told her that we were going to RIDE it, she begged, “Let’s ride it tomorrow. Not today. Can we ride the Ferris Wheel tomorrow?”

After all, tomorrow IS another day.

Unless your parents are sadistic freaks, in which case, TODAY is the day.

We thought that she might come unglued, but she did great – just very studious of our situation. VERY studious.

We did get her to take a break and smile,

But then it was back to her studiosity.
11. Revenge of the Chocolate.

I might have bemoaned my daughter’s chocolate mess-making abilities earlier in this trip.

Well, apparently, she comes by it naturally.

Remember that I bought myself chocolate on that stop also? It seems that a large chunk of my chocolate decided to take a dive into my door handle without me realizing it, and has since been baking for two days:

(It was kept company by Ali’s animal bracelets.)

AND, that also happens to be the place that I set my phone when in the car, of which by all appearances my phone’s receiver has a penchant for slurping chocolate into it’s tiny caverns: So if I sound a bit fuzzy in a somewhat chocolatey way next time I’m talking to you on the phone, now you know why.

Family Tradition

August 14, 2009 Rachel Callahan Toddlers: The Experience, Yes I'm a beach bum. What of it?

The third week in August is a week that we look forward to every year. It is our longest vacation of the year, from Wednesday to Sunday (we prefer a few short vacations rather than one long one), and we spend it staying on the beach with Chris’ Dad.

He comes every year to the Perdido Beach Resort for a work conference, and invites us to tag along. PBR is an glorious place to stay, because it has two restaurants, a pizzeria, ice cream parlor, and poolside takeout restaurant, so it’s super easy to get anything that your heart could possibly desire after a lazy day of getting way too much sun.

We always have an adjoining room with Chris’ Dad (Papa), which definitely caused quite an “adventure” last year when Ali walked into Papa’s room and closed the adjoining door behind her, of which we had no key to rescue her.

Suffice to say, the first thing that Papa did when we arrived this year was give me his extra key.

Ali has come to love this tradition very much, and actually calls Chris’ Dad “Beach Papa” when we’re down here, as if he’s a different person altogether than regular Papa (which may or may not be true).

Although Chris and I came years before Ali was born, we didn’t really take pictures back then. (You know, Ali is much more photogenic than us and all.) But I do have ONE photographical shred of evidence of Ali’s TRUE first trip in 2006, three months before her entrance into the world:

Yeah. Don’t I get extra credit for voluntarily putting a pregnancy picture up?

At any rate, here’s a short historical jaunt through our beach trips, Ali-style:

2007, Playing leapfrog on the bed:

In 2008, she was more about cuddling on the bed:

But back to playing on the bed for 2009:

2007, sunbathing in the pool (and getting a paci tan line) with Daddy:

2008, Playing in the “Warm Pool” with Daddy:

(little did we know at the time that she was creating a hot-tub-baked-disgust-o-diaper during that adorable photo op)

2009, Building Sandcastles with Daddy.

(She was really wanting to build a pink sandcastle, but it seemed to me that adding food coloring to sand might possibly be slightly messy. And since we’ve already made our mess for the trip, they just made sand sandcastles.)

2008, More interested in her sunglasses than in playing with Mommy:

(Yeah, yeah, no picture of she and I in 2007. I was quite post-partum and apparently avoiding the camera quite successfully. But hey – give me some credit for posting the pregnancy pic, anyway!)

2009, drawing smiley faces and “A-L-I Ali” in the sand with Mommy:

2007, relaxing at the pool while her servants attended to her every diaper-and-milk need:

2008, relaxing with the one and only Beach Papa:

2009, relaxing while laying out and attempting to close her eyes (she finally figured out how to CLOSE her eyes, but still not how to do it without squinting mercilessly):
(Her reason for laying out? Well because Kitty was doing it, of course.)
Speaking of Kitty (who, by the way, is Chris’ Aunt who lives down here), here’s Ali in 2008 with Kitty and I:

And, 2009, “floating between them”:
Ali has definitely jumped right into beach mode quickly this year. I mean, she built a sandcastle, for goodness’ sakes!

Okay, maybe with a little help from Daddy:

And, of course, I’m playing my usual role of being “Parent of the Year” by letting her eat WHILE swimming, (as I’m pretty sure that I wasn’t allowed to swim until 30 minutes after eating…)

Which, really, I was much less disturbed by the possibility of her getting nauseous from eating and swimming simultaneously as I was by her eating with “baby pool hands”, which might or might not include water polluted by the snot that I’d just seen the other kid in the pool wring out of his nose and into the pool.

Ew.

Nothing like a good snot story to finish off an otherwise overly-sappy blog post, right?

They Melt in Your WHAT?!?!

August 13, 2009 Rachel Callahan I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Just My Luck, Parent of the Year, Toddlers: The Experience

We headed down our familiar stretch of interstate today to our beloved Alabama Beaches. I felt GOOD because I was more prepared than ever to entertain my precious toddler for the drive. I brought brand new toys that she had never seen before, new books, plenty of snacks, stickers, and even painstakingly found all of Strawberry Shortcake’s accessories and put them in a nice neat little purse.

Everything a girl could want.

As I was preparing, I really thought it was overkill – she usually does great on our 4 hour jaunt to the beach. But at least I’d be prepared.

However, for some reason, she was more impatient with the drive than ever before, despite all of her new distractions.

Oh, the irony of my life.

So around halfway down, I was in dire need of a chocolate break, and I decided that maybe that was what Ali needed, too.

So I headed into the gas station, made my choice, and then went to get Ali’s favorite, M&M’s. But as I was reaching for them, I saw the tube of M&M Minis:

Perfect!! She loves to pour things, so she will have chocolate AND the ability to pour them in and out of a neat little tube. It just screamed “Hours of Entertainment!! Step Right Up!!”, so I even bought the mega sized tube.

(Why hello stupid. Why would you buy a TWO YEAR OLD a King Sized tube of chocolate? There goes my Smart Parent of the Year Award.)

Of course, she was thrilled. She poured and she shook. She ate and she poured. She played and she shook.

Wait a minute. There was a lot of shaking going on.

I did a quick check – OH NO.

I slid my finger down into her seat, and it came back completely covered in a thick, chocolatey goo.

At least it was chocolatey goo, as opposed to the dreaded Peanut Butter Poo Flu Goo. MUCH better than the alternative.

So we’re driving down the interstate, and my “trying to control the situation” self is turned around in my seat, desperately trying to contain the goo before it spreads to permanent levels.

They were EVERYWHERE. They had fallen down both sides of the seat, into every crevice and seatbelt hole, and there was a very large consolidation of them in her crotch. Smooshed and oozing, of course.

The console between Chris and I looked like this:

And AFTER I had contained the damage to the best of my abilities, Ali’s bum looked like this:

(Yes, I had two of her five harness points unbuckled in a moving vehicle. There goes my Safe Parent of he Year Award.)

So, she got the privilege of eating dinner with the dreaded brown butt:

But it didn’t deter her in the least from enjoying her ranch dressing.

Bum-N-M’s. Melt in your Crotch, not in your Mouth.

Gremlins.

August 12, 2009 Rachel Callahan Parent of the Year, Toddlers: The Experience, Weird Strange and True

I’m not one to condone making blogscuses, but I would like to state a disclaimer for the following blog post: My house is currently under attack by a parade of little gremlins.

I was accosted over the weekend by the Emergency Dental Pain Gremlin, and I must say that the Weekend EDP Gremlin is MUCH worse than the weekDAY one, seeing as how he enjoyed tormenting me with pain-like-when-the-dentist-drills-into-my-not-yet-numb-teeth every time I tried to ingest any substance until said Dentist opened on Monday.

Luckily, my “rooty-tooty” Dentist must have realized that I had already done my Penance of Pain, because he went ahead and double numbed me before pulling out his torture devices (he usually likes to give me a test drill or two before doing it right, hence how I know SO WELL what it feels like to have my teeth drilled un-numbly).

However, the result of the double numbnation was being numb UP THROUGH MY NOSE all day Monday. Which makes it really hard to tell if you have anything hanging OUT of your nose, for the record.

Anyway. Other Gremlins.

Chris has been attacked by the more-work-that-you-can-shake-a-stick-at-right-before-you-go-on-vacation Gremlin. (Have I mentioned we’re going on vacation? Oh, sorry. We are. Today. But don’t worry, I’ll be around all week.) Poor guy has been working like crazy trying to get it all done, and is still working in the basement as I write this blog post (late Tuesday night).

And Ali? Well, you really don’t want to know the gory details of her Gremlin’s disastrous wake, seeing as how it made Chris dry heave and have to finish his fatherly duties with his shirt pulled up over his nose, but let’s just say she’s been attacked by the Peanut Butter Poo Flu Gremlin.

Which also had a weird and completely unrelated side effect of her waking up with a black eye yesterday morning. It drove me absolutely crazy all morning because I could not recall a single injury that might have caused it (especially since she Does. Not. Get. Hurt. Ever.) I even called my Mom and tried to ask in the most non-accusatory way if Ali had done anything when she was at her house that could have resulted in a black eye.

Now please understand, I didn’t mind at all that she got hurt – because I’m cold like that, and a kid’s gotta get hurt sometimes, right? I really just wanted to quench my annoying curiosity of WHAT CAUSED IT. Because there’s nothing more annoying than a bruise of which you can’t recall it’s precipitating event. And, since my bruises are like my sunburns and very late in appearing, I often wish I kept a bruise journal. It would be very helpful, like other unnecessarily detailed record books which I might or might not have kept in the past.

Anyway, so her purple/red eye got darker and darker as the morning went on, and then, at lunchtime, in a flash, it completely vanished.

Amazing.

So, the moral of this story is: Apparently there’s a virus going around that causes a complete lack of appetite, zombie-like behavior, Peanut Butter Poo, and Magically Vanishing Black Eyes.

Sounds like something out of Harry Potter, available for purchase at the Weasley’s joke store.

However, one more side effect of this intriguing Peanut Butter Poo Flu Gremlin is deep thoughts.

As we were traveling to take a meal to JC, Lindsay, Eli, and new Baby Tessa Kate Monday night (before I really realized that she was potentially sick, for the record), Ali was philosophizing in the back seat about the upcoming dinner.

“Tessa won’t eat it. She’s a baby. Babies drink milk.”

(silence, as more deep thoughts take place.)

“Tessa’s older than my snot.”

(silence, interrupted by stifled giggles in the front seat.)

“Tessa’s older than my cheese and crackers, too.”

I’m pretty sure that she’s right on the snot account, but I’m thinking that there’s a good chance that her oh-so-preprocessed Lunchables Cheese and Crackers MAY have been sitting on the grocery store shelf a tad longer than Tessa’s been around.

In fact, maybe that’s where the Gremlins came from.

Olympic Doubtful.

August 11, 2009 Rachel Callahan Just My Luck, Toddlers: The Experience

As I’ve mentioned before, Ali is pretty much obsessed with all things gymnastics.

Everything long and narrow, whether raised or not (including but not limited to painted lines in parking lots and tile designs at the mall), is a “balance beam”, and she must walk on it.

Every kind of long and (hopefully) sturdy bar is a pull-up bar, and she must swing from it, hang from it, and do pull-ups.

(It takes all of my persuasional power to keep her off of the handicap bars in public bathrooms. If only I weren’t always sitting just out of reach and somewhat compromised in my ability to get up…oh, the irony.)

And, of course, flips. She LOVES her flips.

So, I went against my don’t-start-your-child-out-in-organized-activities-too-young philosophy and signed her up for a weekly “Mommy and Me” Gymnastics class.

When I told her, she was absolutely elated. When we went in to register last week, she almost kissed me of her OWN accord.

And THEN we went leotard shopping. I let her pick out the ones she liked, and we headed to the dressing room.

This was her original favorite, and she can be seen here having a heart attack of joy when she tried it on:Yeah. A bit blinding, huh?

Pro: Getting lost would be out of the question.
Con: The traffic cone resemblance is uncanny. And we all know what happens to traffic cones.

She thoughtfully checked the price tag,

But somehow, the Olympic-gold-medal-worthy price didn’t curb her enthusiasm at all.
We then tried on her next choice. At first, she wasn’t sure,
But after fully examining herself from all angles,

She was ready to plead her case:

We finally decided on Leotard de Froggy, along with this one:

And, like all people of the female persuasion, getting to buy the OUTFIT for an upcoming event makes it infinitely more exciting.

(Speaking of, that’s what made me finally get excited about football last year. I’m thinking it’s time for a shopping trip for Mommy, compliments of Daddy.)

So, between her excitement, her obsession with Gymnastics, and how amazingly well she played on all of the gymnastics equipment when we went to Kid’s Gym, I was certain that our first lesson would be a smashing success.

Why, oh why oh why oh WHY, am I always wrong when I am certain?

Yeah. She wouldn’t do anything.

When I tried to get her to walk the balance beam (something that she has NEVER EVER turned down in her life), I got,

“I don’t want to walk on the balance beam. I want to sit in your lap.”

When I tried to get her to do stretches as her coach illustrated,

“I don’t want to do stretches. I want to sit in your lap.”

Surely she would want to swing on the bar.

“I don’t want to swing or do pull-ups. I want to sit in your lap.”

The issue certainly wasn’t classmate intimidation – there were only two others in her class – both boys – 12 months and 18 months old. Who, despite their age, were MUCH more willing to do anything and everything than she was.

When I finally managed to pry her white knuckles and clinched knees her from my lap, she sat, as far away from everyone else as she could.

And the only thing that DID seem to interest her was collecting and hording all of the gymnastics toys and, of course, NOT using them.
I know she’s cautious and shy, but this was BEYOND her normal level of shyness.

However, right before class was supposed to be over (of course), she made a new friend – Sydney, the coach’s daughter (who will, of course, be back in school before next week’s class). But seeing Sydney do tricks on the bars was enough to make her FINALLY want to actually DO something:
And then, it was time to go.

“No, no, I don’t want to go I want to stay.”

Of course.

Tube Dating

August 10, 2009 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, I'm a Glutton for Adventure, The Blissfulness of Life

Chris and I had a “date day” Saturday – Ali went to Gramamma’s early in the morning and spent the night, so we had all day to spend together.

Ali, of course, was absolutely thrilled to spend the day and night with Gramamma, but for the first time in her life, she was quite curious and needing to know what WE would be doing while she was gone. For two days beforehand, I was grilled with questions such as,

“Where are YOU going to be while I’m at Gramamma’s?”

“What will you and DADDY be doing?”

“Will you still be at home?”

Chris and I each had our own theories on the motives behind her interrogations. I think she wanted to make sure that she was having all the fun and we were having NO fun while she was gone, just so that she didn’t miss out on anything.

Chris, the more trusting and ~~naive~~ optimistic parent, just thought that she cared about us and wanted to know where we’d be.

By chance Friday afternoon, I happened to see a blurb on Twitter, and then on al.com about a tubing trip down the Cahaba River. I’ve been wanting to go canoeing again for a very long time, and tubing sounded like a perfect way to spend the first half of our date.

Chris agreed, and so we hurriedly put plans together.

Fortunately, Chris, in all of his wisdom and pre-planning ways, remembered how important it is to have river shoes when doing a trip of any kind down a river.

Unfortunately, he didn’t remember until Saturday morning, in which we had very little time to obtain these shoes.

So, of course, we went to Wal-Mart. And, of course, as luck would have it, they had exactly ONE variety of women’s water shoes, and available in two convenient sizes: 5-6 or 11-12.

Since I wear a 7 1/2, I opted for the 5-6, and looked like a little Chinese lady practicing the art of foot binding:

But it was WELL worth it. Those shoes helped me stay mostly uninjured on our trip.

So we arrived, and I left my camera and my phone in the car, after telling them that no, it was nothing personal, and no, I’m not deathly ill.

(They aren’t used to not being attached to me, poor things.)

The group comprised of eleven people, and all of the following pictures are courtesy of Matt Cuthbert, the Senior Producer at Al.com, and the person that I saw twittering and blogging about the event. And, because he apparently has a death wish for his camera, he actually took it down the river with him, and managed to take some awesome pictures.

Here we all are, trying to get situated on our tubes without being eaten alive by the quick-mud at the drop-in point:

There were three hilariously entertaining kids on our trip. This one was determined NOT to get his butt wet on the trip, which is why he is sitting as if he has a hemorrhroid:

However, the laws of the universe require that if you’re the one person on a tubing trip that is trying to NOT get wet, you will be the one person that will fall in the river, immediately and repeatedly.

So we set off on our journey,
Enjoying the gorgeous scenery,

And not looking nearly as graceful as we thought we did.

We had a lot of friends on the river – swarms of dragonflies.
They liked to land on us, and most of them were, um, “attached” to another dragonfly friend, if you know what I mean.

At one point, a lonely single dragonfly landed on me, and I watched in amazement as he bent down his lower body in hinges so that the end of his body was touching my leg.

Then it started to sting.

And I didn’t find it quite as amazing.

However, in case you ever wanted to know, a dragonfly sting is quite mild and leaves no lasting welts.

The tubing adventure was full of long stretches of slowly moving river,

Interrupted by spurts of rapids and small waterfalls, of which Matt apparently liked his camera enough to not get any pictures of.

However, being that I am a glutton for adventure, I loved the small waterfalls.

(And when I say small, I really do mean QUITE small.)

After the first one, I learned that in order to not have your back opened by the rocks pretending to be can openers, you must completely stretch out on TOP of your tube as if you were on a luge, and basically slip over the rocks. Sometimes your tube would get stuck, but at least it was your TUBE getting hung and not your BUTT.

Here I am after just having come off of some rapids, still in partial-luge-position:

Notice the pointed toes. Important.

Another thing I came away with was a lovely Tubers-Tan. Or more accurately, Tubers-Burn.

See the glowing properties of my legs?

Yeah. From halfway down my thighs to halfway down my calves became quite toasted. Much more toasted than I realized, because I have really unpunctual skin: I burn AFTER the fact. So, as we were sitting through the third part of our date last night (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, if you’re curious), my legs got progressively toasty warm.

I bet you’ve never had the pleasure to sunburn in a movie theater.

But it was well worth it. Two and a half hours of floating along a beautiful river together is the PERFECT way to start off a date:

And Matt and Misty were an awesome host / hostess duo for the trip:

And overall, I must say that I am now totally sold on tubing. I may never canoe again. Because:

a) You’re in the water, not above it, so it’s a much cooler trip. Here’s Chris doing his head-cooling-off routine:

b) You’re not working as hard – no paddles, so you’re not about to absolutely die from exhaustion and upset about the fact that your arms fell off somewhere up river by the time you get to the end,

and

c) Tubes are QUITE comfy. Lounging down the river on a soft, pillowy tube rather than a hard, unforgiving bench is most DEFINITELY the way to go.

This trip was organized by Fresh Air Family, an awesome non-profit group that organizes events to help families spend time together outdoors.

It took place in Centreville, Alabama – about an hour out of Birmingham going towards Tuscaloosa, and the tubes/transportation/instructions were provided by Adventure Shoals for only $10 per person.

Survey Saturday: What Blogs Should I Read?

August 8, 2009 Rachel Callahan Blogher, Survey Says. . .

One more thing that I realized while I was at Blogher is that I don’t read hardly any “superstar” blogs. I kept having people around me talk about being starry eyed at all of the “celebrity” bloggers they had spotted over the weekend, and I would have no idea who they were talking about, and CERTAINLY wouldn’t have recognized them if I had seen them myself.

Over the past year, I have focused much more in interacting with you all, my readers and my friends, by reading your blogs, and have not really searched out for other blogs to read. Currently, other than my readers and the 5 Minutes for Mom sites, I read BooMama and Big Mama, but that’s about it.

And I’m not quite sure that I want to read a ton of other blogs because I want to continue to read my reader’s blogs first (I’m all about bloglationships, you see). But I do want to try it and see if it helps me hone my own writing and be able learn from them (besides the fact that I love to read a great blog).

Here’s what I’m looking for:

Somewhat humorous / entertaining blogs – not too deep or heady.
Fairly clean – I’m not at all of the mindset that cursing makes things funnier (unlike the humor “experts” at Blogher).

So, tell me what blogs you read!! And if you really want to help me out, tell me a little about them, their blog, and what they write about.

Thanks!

Thighs, in the Powdered Form.

August 7, 2009 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, It's Tough Being a Girl

I LOVE Shredded Mozzarella Cheese.

Not sliced, and not cubed.

Just shredded.

Because I’ve always adored that powdery texture that only shredded Mozzarella has. It’s just so cool, refreshing, and delicious.

(Which brings me to an aside: why does refrigerated cheese seem like a healthy snack, but melted-cheese-on-anything seems like a hunk of lard that’s headed straight for your hips? Just a thought.)

As I was saying, I love Shredded, COLD, Mozzarella Cheese.

Until this week.

I happened to be absentmindedly looking at the back of the package (tip: NEVER, EVER absentmindedly look at the back of ANY food packaging!!!), and I saw this:

Ew.

Ya learn something new every day. I never knew I had a fondness of the taste of powdered cellulose.

I know that Cellulose isn’t the same thing as Cellulite, but now all I can think of when I see Shredded Mozzarella Cheese is this:
And now, I’ll never be able to eat Shredded Mozzarella Cheese in good conscience again.

Not that I won’t eat it, of course, but I will just be consumed with guilt and fear as I enjoy it’s powdery, delicious, cellulostasticness.

Public Service Announcement: Forcing “Fun” Only Results in Soggy Guilt.

August 6, 2009 Rachel Callahan I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Parent of the Year, Toddlers: The Experience

So if you haven’t noticed in prior posts, I have, pretty much, the most cautious child ever.

Obviously, she gets it from her Daddy.

And it has it’s benefits, for sure. For instance, I’m pretty sure that she has NO idea what blood is – because she never puts herself in a position from which blood would be allowed to exit her body.

She’s just that careful.

But, of course, her cautiosity gets in the way of her having as much fun as I think she could have in life.

For instance: Yesterday. We went to a splash pad with our Mom’s group, hoping to have a more successful experience than last week’s activity.

While all of her friends enjoyed running through the great sprinklers of life (pardon the Veggie Tales quote), Ali stayed on the perimeter, catching what water she could without actually getting any on her person:
Sure, she was content enough to play in her oh-so-safe way, but what else are Moms for if not to push their child out of their comfort zone?

So, I recruited Abby, Ali’s older, braver, and wiser friend to create a peer pressure situation.

Ali looks up to Abby. She respects her a lot.

No, she reveres her.

I asked Abby to take Ali out to the sprinklers and show her how to run in them:
Ali started to pull away, but out of her reverence for Abby, she went ahead.

I watched.

They went all the way to the middle. Water was coming from every direction.

Ali panicked.

She pulled away from Abby and stood there, crying her eyes out.

So, obviously, the Mommy Guilt immediately set in, and I ran to rescue her from this sadistic situation that I created.

And, obviously, she wanted to be picked up and taken out of the water area.

Which, obviously, resulted in me becoming quite soaking wet (which I would have never had the opportunity to become had I not forced her to get wet):
And, obviously, denim and cotton doesn’t dry as fast as swimsuit, even in an Alabama August. So my punishment for pushing her past her comfort zone was all-day-long sogginess.

After that, she was quite done with the water, thankyouverymuch. So I changed her into dry clothes (wishing I could do the same), and we went to the playground part of the park, wwhere I let her play her way, maximizing her own cautiosity, while I watched, quite soggily.

But, for the record, I come by this whole “push your child out of their comfort zone” naturally.

Join me back to my childhood, circa six years old. . .

We had a steep hill near our house – VERY steep. My brother (JC) would always ride his bike down it, having huge amounts of gleeful fun.

I, on the other hand, was MUCH too cautious for such activities.

(Maybe Ali gets it from me after all.)

One fateful day, Mom finally decided that The Time Had Arrived. Rachel must experience the fun that she has been missing. So she MADE me ride my bike down the steep hill, despite my teary-eyed pleas to spare my life.

And, toward the bottom of the hill, my bike skidded and crashed in a bit of gravel. And I fell forcefully off of my bike, getting a rock lodged quite deeply in my cheek.

Mom, of course, experienced Mommy Guilt in it’s greatest form as she sped my bleeding face to the doctor to get me stitched up, probably getting a bit soggy herself in the process.

I still have quite the gashy scar across my cheek, and Mom just MIGHT still have a little bit of Mommy Guilt over it.

So the moral of these stories is: If your kids are content with their minimal level of fun, LET THEM BE. Because they WILL find a way to make you regret your decision to push them, and therefore make you suffer eternally with Mommy Guilt.

Or sogginess. One or the other.