A New School Year

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I'm ready for summer vacation to be over. The last few months have been great and, in addition to a couple vacations, we've all enjoyed some much needed time off from science projects, weekly piano lessons and alarms going off at 6:15. But now, after an especially easy August, I feel like it's time to return to reality, mainly because I'm pretty sure that if you were to peer into my kids' skulls, all you would find is something that resembles an overcooked bowl of oatmeal that has been sprinkled with the occasional bit of brain.

Before the backpacks go out the door tomorrow morning, though, I'd like to ask the schools for a few simple things that would make not only mine, but everyone else's lives a little bit easier.

1. Please create family accounts for lunch money. Then I would only have to deposit money into one account instead of a separate account for each kid, and my kids could all use the same PIN. Currently, each kid has their own account, which means that they each have to memorize a different PIN (and, of course, the PIN changes when they change schools), and I get three separate emails notifying me when the balance drops below a certain amount and please deposit more funds immediately before your kid receives the Stamp of Shame on his hand and is only allowed to eat a cold cheese sandwich.
2. About that PIN -- would it really be that hard to let a family choose what their pin number will be? I didn't think so.
3. And about those lunches that I pay for -- please make them edible. And while I'm all for trying to broaden the kids' horizons and encouraging them to try new food, putting sliced beets and collard greens on an elementary school lunch menu seems a bit, well, moronic.
4. We live .9 mile away from the front door of our elementary school, which means that I am responsible for getting my kid to and from school each day. The lady that lives an additional tenth of a mile away gets to put her kid(s) on a bus. Please adjust my property taxes accordingly.
5. I know that science projects can be educational, but assigning 25 of them only manages to teach one thing: a hatred of science. Please keep the maximum number of projects to be completed within one school year to three. Four tops. Zero would be even better.
6. Feel free to omit the three-week swimming unit from the junior high phy ed curriculum.
7. Feel free to add a unit called "How to use deodorant" to the junior high health curriculum.
8. Maybe this issue was specific to our school district, but next year I would appreciate it if the kids' junior high schedules could be posted sooner than two days before the first day of school, during Labor Day weekend.
9. Instead of teachers waiting until the first day of school to tell the kids all about the additional, specific supplies they're going to need for each class, why can't they post them online ahead of time? Believe it or not, there are some families that don't thrive on the thrill of hunting for school supplies.

And one last request: The majority of the teachers I know are spectacular people that love watching kids learn, give selflessly, work whatever hours are necessary and genuinely care about their students. But to those teachers that are incapable of using common sense, never reply to emails, assign more homework than is necessary over the weekends "just because they can" and seem to derive pleasure from watching good students make mistakes, A) You will not receive a good Christmas gift from me, and B) Knock it off.

Camp at (Someone Else's) Home

I love summer vacation. And the only thing better than summer vacation is being able to take a week-long vacation at the beginning of the summer vacation. And the only thing better than taking a vacation at the beginning is being able to take another vacation at the end of summer vacation. In other words, I pretty much live for the word "vacation."

Due to the fact that the last couple months have consisted of nothing but tennis, swimming, more tennis, more swimming, a couple tennis tournaments, a few piano lessons and a whole lot of ham sandwiches and fruit, my boys never went away to camp. But maybe I should be more honest: even if our summer consisted of nothing but sitting on our asses, grilling burgers, playing video games and going to movies, I still wouldn't have sent my boys to camp. They have less than no desire to go live in a stinky cabin with a bunch of strangers for a week, fight mosquitoes, eat weird food, leave cell phones behind and miss their friends. And in addition to me not wanting to deal with them after they've spent a week eating weird food and putting up with strange children, my husband and I have no desire to pay for it.

But since I'm not one to ever deprive my kids of anything, I started wondering if maybe the reason they didn't go to camp was because of me and my lack of motivation to pay, pack, drop-off, pick-up and do laundry. They might actually enjoy a week in the woods, exploring nature and swimming in a lake. Maybe I should create a "camp at home" for them, just to give them a little bit of the experience without the homesickness, bugs, smells, discomfort and most of all, outpouring of cash.

As if on cue, friends of ours, who are on an extended vacation out of the country, offered us the use of their northern Minnesota lake home for a week. In addition to being given the perfect setting, I then came across some ideas for creating a camp in the comfort of your own home. Now I just need to figure out a way to incorporate these ideas:

Pick a theme: This is easy. Our theme is relaxation. Not international day, outdoor enthusiast, or Hawaiian luau -- it's relaxation. I will not be sneaking in any educational activities other than saying "Please order something that's less than $10" when we go out to dinner and "Try to get out of bed before noon." After all, they should be brushing up on their math and time-telling skills before school starts.

Try new cuisine: If one kid orders tacos, another kid orders spaghetti and the other one orders a burger, they can all taste each others' food.

Check your stress at the door: We are staying at someone else's house, so needless to say I might be a little bit extra anal about shoes coming off, coasters being used and bathrooms staying clean. That is, until I've had my third vodka tonic. At that point, I might not even be using a coaster.

Try role playing: I'm hoping that this tip means "let the kid be the parent for a short time," and if it does, I can pretty much guarantee that it's not going to happen. Otherwise, I suppose it will depend on where all the bedrooms are located and how soundproof the walls are.

Make a T-shirt: Maybe I'll get some puffy paint and let each kid decorate one shirt that they can wear the entire week and throw away at the end, therefore cutting down on the amount of laundry I have to do. On mine, I'll write "Welcome to Camp-I'm-Feeling-Drinky."

Have circle time: According to the article, "circle time will help get your day started and should include reading or singing time." Um, no. Just no. The only way that I will incorporate circle time is by staring at the top of my coffee cup -- which is a circle, while staring at the lake, which is circle-ish.

Create a craft: Since I don't do crafts at home, I'm sure as hell not going to haul craft supplies on vacation. Unless I can't find a paring knife. In that case, an X-acto knife might come in handy for hacking up a lime.

Play some sports: I will be an active participant in the sport of putting my feet up, placing a drink in my hand, focusing my eyes on a magazine and eventually -- napping. Hopefully my kids won't then participate in a sport called drowning.

Sleep outdoors: No.

Stage a talent show: Again, no. Unless there's whiskey involved.

Go on a field trip: This one I can do. There is a bar nearby that has tons of cool stuff on the walls, a deck facing the lake where you can see fish jump and a ping pong table in the lower level bar. I may even make a questionnaire for the kids to fill in after we leave, like "What kind of beer did dad order?" and "How many times did mom accidentally swear?" and "How long did it take before Zoe said 'It's my turn to play ping pong'?"

Have fun at home: Well, duh. Isn't that the whole point of going to camp? I mean, even without setting up an obstacle course, playing the harmonica, going on a scavenger hunt or having international cooking day, I would hope that a week away from work and our frustratingly-hectic schedule of the summer would be fun! After all, I CAN BE FUN! I'LL SHOW YOU THAT I CAN BE FUN!

And just like that, I'm actually looking forward to hosting this camp at home. Or in this case, someone else's home.

A Couple Simple Requests

Tomorrow is the last day of July. I know this sounds cliche and very creatively challenged, but holy shit! Where did the summer go? How is it that I only have one month left to enjoy not having to deal with school drop off, homework-free evenings and elementary school drama? I guess this means that I'm going to have to really crack down and focus on making the most out of the next few weeks, and also be extra appreciative of the fact that our school district doesn't start until the Tuesday after Labor Day.

At least the summer hasn't been a complete waste. Over the last couple of months, I've spent a lot of quality time with my kids and in the process, have discovered a few things that certain businesses could do to make my life, and the lives of other moms, much easier and more enjoyable. So if these changes could be made by Monday morning, I'd really appreciate it because it would make the rest of my summer much better and result in me being even happier than I already am. And everyone knows: If mom is happy, then everyone is happy.

• Time is tight and we're all trying to squeeze as much enjoyment as we can out of each hour. So, I'd appreciate it if either bars started offering pedicures and neck massages on their happy hour menus, or spas provided complimentary vodka-tonics and/or cold beer with their pedicures. I'm not being greedy and asking for both, but will happily accept one or the other.
• And whichever establishment decides to put this business plan into action, I'd appreciate it if you would offer diet tonic.
• At the end of the school year, I received an envelope so that I could clip and collect Box Tops for Education over the course of the summer. This envelope would be much plumper right now if Box Tops were found on cases of beer or bottles of booze, not just cereal, granola bars, toilet paper and tampons. Yes, that's right. There is a Box Top for Education on Kotex Tampons.
• In addition to my ongoing request for a lotion bottle pump that reaches all the way to the bottom of the bottle, thereby allowing me to use the last 1/3 of the product, I'd also like a bottle that lets me squeeze out the last bit of sunscreen without getting carpal tunnel syndrome. If not that, then an aerosol can of sunscreen that actually puts the product on my child, not just in the air.
• If everyone wants my kid to wash her hands, please place the soap dispensers in public bathrooms at a height where a child that's not the offspring of the Jolly Green Giant can actually reach it without having to be hoisted up by a parent. Inevitably, there is a giant puddle of water on the edge of the counter, which ends up being sucked up by a kid's shirt after the kid has tried in vain to stand on their tip-toes, stretch as far as they can, and still not reach the damn soap.
• If you're not going to move the soap dispensers, then would it really be that much of a cost burden to toss a few plastic step stools in front of the sinks? Do you really think that anyone is going to be so desperate as to steal a plastic step stool that dozens of grimy feet have stood on? If yes, then chain the damn stool to the sink.
• Okay, I'm going to sound a little obsessed about this public bathroom thing, but I have to say something about the toilet paper dispenser. First off, when the roll that's the size of a semi-truck tire is full, it never actually spins, releasing a long strip of paper. It dispenses the paper in 1/2" long segments. Second, if you tear at the wrong angle, you risk lacerating your knuckle. Third, they're usually located in a spot that is unreachable by a child unless the kid yells "Go go gadget arm."
• Yes, yes I know. You're sick of the bathroom theme, but just one more. I'd really like to have stall doors that automatically lock when the person that just used up the last of the toilet paper leaves the stall. That way, I won't end up being the one sitting there later, only to find an empty roll. Because then I can't help but visualize all of the strangers' asses that must have been in that stall throughout the day in order to use up such a humungous roll of toilet paper, which makes me a little nauseous. Also, I'm sick of drip drying.
• Why can't Costco have an express lane? Or better yet, accept normal debit cards? And what is with their moronically designed milk jugs? And I wouldn't have to annoy you by climbing the salad display to pull a fresh one from the back if you would stop leaving the about-to-expire crap on the shelf. In the front. In my way.
• Gas stations should start placing complimentary vacuums next to the pumps. That way, when I'm waiting for my tank to fill, I can use the time to suck up Goldfish and granola bar shrapnel.
• It's really nice of McD's to offer the huge Diet Coke for $.99, but what I really want is for them to offer the huge Diet Coke with a couple ounces of Captain. I'd even be willing to pay more, like $1.99.

If one, two, or all of these requests are met, then I can safely say that August will be spectacular. If not, well, then I'll just have to pick up my Box Top for Education-free case of beer, put my unpainted toes up on my deck railing, attempt to squeeze the last bit of sunscreen from the tube without hurting myself and enjoy the month at home. At least then I know I won't have to deal with drip drying. Unless, of course, someone in my family forgets to replace the roll.

Pathetic Parenting at the Pool

Starting today and for the next two weeks, I have four tennis tournaments to prepare for, drive to and keep track of. While this means that I will be able to be outdoors in the sun, it also means that I will be in a lawn chair or sitting on some metal bleachers instead of sneaking in a flask and lounging poolside.

Normally, this fact would annoy the shit out of me because summer is only so long and I hate the idea of acquiring shorts and tank-top tan lines. But believe it or not, it will be kind of nice to have a break from the pool because lately, there are more than a few people that are really pissing me off. It's almost like they're all preparing audition tapes for a new reality show about all the wrong ways to parent.

Hear my empty threats? The perfect scenario for a summer day would be hanging out with a fun friend, sitting for long periods of time in a lounge chair and watching the kids play together without any drama. Since this type of scenario only happens, well, never, it's best to just go to the pool anyway, accepting the fact that more time will be spent walking around the pool, settling the endless "who is drowning who" debate and taking kids to the bathroom.

What drives me insane is when a parent thinks that they're going to be able to have an actual conversation with another adult, while seated, and attempts to control their horrendous offspring by threatening them over and over again with disciplinary measures that everyone, especially the kids, know will never actually happen. For example:

• If you don't stop splashing everyone, you're going to have a ten minute time-out.
• If you don't stop screaming, you're done swimming for the day.
• Don't hit her in the arm! If you do that again, we're going home.
• You need to stop whining. If you don't stop whining, we're never coming back to the pool again.
• Don't drown your sister! If you do that again, we're leaving.
• That's way too loud. Be quieter, or I'm taking you home.
• If you jump in head first again, you're grounded from swimming for a month.

Immediately after these threats are made, the parent goes right back to the conversation they were having and the kids go right back to splashing, screaming, hitting, drowning, diving, whining and yelling. At no point are any time-outs actually issued, no swimming time is taken away, and worst of all, they never do go home and always seem to return a couple days later.

You're going to learn how to swim whether you like it or not, goddammit! I will admit that I am lucky in that all of my kids learned how to swim without much effort or drama, and that the only way I had to participate in the learning process was to drive each of them to their two-weeks of swimming lessons. I didn't sign them up for lessons until I thought they were ready, old enough to understand how dangerous water can be, and made sure that they wanted to learn how to swim. As I have discovered, though, not everyone goes by this philosophy, specifically Psycho Sally, which is probably not her real name but that's what I'm going to call her, because Stupid Fucking Bitchy Moron would take a long time to type over and over again.

Psycho Sally showed up to the pool with her adorable little not-quite-three-year-old son, Ryan, and the first words out of her mouth were "Oh my GOD Ryan! If you're not going to listen we're going home NOW! Ryan, you need to stay RIGHT BY ME! RYAN!" She then strapped a foam swimming aid (that is designed to fit a much older, much more experienced soon-to-be-swimmer) onto Ryan's teeny body and instructed him to get into the pool. Apparently she didn't like how he got into the pool because no sooner did he have a pinky toe in the water before she grabbed the back of his foam floaty, yanked him backwards and shouted directly into his ear. During the next fifteen minutes, the following phrases, accompanied by more grabbing and yanking, were heard:

• Scoop, scoop your hands. Do you hear me, Ryan? SCOOP I SAID! If you don't scoop, you will drown.
• Ryan, you're a horrible swimmer. Why can't you swim better?
• You have a swimming lesson tomorrow, I can't believe how bad you are at swimming.
• If you don't learn how to swim, you will drown. Do you want to drown, Ryan?
• Scoop your hands and that will keep your face out of the water. Stop laughing Ryan, this isn't funny. You're supposed to not drown.
• The point is to not drown. Stop laughing.
• Why can't you do this? That other kid can swim! (Note: That "other kid" she referred to was at least four years older than her son.)
• Scoop. Your. Hands. How hard can it be?
• Forget it, you're probably going to drown.
• If you don't learn how to swim, we're never coming to the pool again.
• Stop crying, Ryan. There's nothing to cry about.

After the super fun "swimming lesson," Ryan walked over to the shallow toddler pool and asked Psycho Sally if he could play in there. She said fine, if that's what he wanted to do, even though that was the baby pool for kids that didn't know how to swim.

I wanted to smack her and then shove her in the deep end.

Every moment can be a learning moment! A couple days later, a dad walked out to the pool with his three-year-old-son and two-year-old daughter. He strapped life jackets onto both of them and pretty much just chucked them into the water. The kids bobbed to the surface, sputtering and fighting back tears, and the dad, who I think I'll call Crazy Kevin, laughed it off by saying "It's just water! W-A-T-E-R! It's fun! Get your hair wet! W-E-T!"

After telling his son, Wyatt, to practice jumping into the pool, Crazy Kevin proceeded to try to keep the daughter, Olivia, from wandering over to the toddler pool. Over and over again all I heard was "Olivia! Olivia! Ollie come here! Ollie get your pacifier! Where's Ollie's pacifier?" And then, just in case we didn't all know her name by then, he started spelling it out in a song: "O-L-L-I-E. That's your name, isn't it Ollie! O-L-L-I-E! Spell it with me!" The girl just stood there with her pacifier dangling out of her mouth, pointing at the toddler pool and yelling "Poo!"

Since I was sitting near the toddler pool, I watched as she climbed in unattended while Crazy Kevin continued to chuck his son into the pool over and over again. No sooner had Olivia entered the pool then her pacifier popped out of her mouth and started circling around, caught in the current created by the drain. Now, I realize that if I were a nice person I could have stood up, walked over, fished the pacifier out and handed it back to Olivia. But this dad was really, really annoying which kind of erases any possibility of me being a nice person, and I kind of wanted to see how he was going to handle the situation. Sure enough, on it's second trip around the pacifier disappeared into the skimmer, and then the dad finally walked over, and then proceeded to pretty much freak out. "Where's the paci? Ollie! Where did you leave your paci? P-A-C-I. We need your paci." I, of course, could have helped at this point since I knew exactly where the paci was, but he wouldn't stop spelling words out, so I didn't.

The best moment of the day occurred when Crazy Kevin's perfect, smart, well-behaved children started acting up. Wyatt didn't want to share his life jacket with Ollie, Ollie didn't want to swim in the big pool but Wyatt didn't want to be in the toddler pool, Ollie was obsessively playing with something she wasn't supposed to which was making her dad visibly agitated, and then it happened: Wyatt threw a giant tantrum. Not a little whimpery one, not a medium-sized fatigue-induced meltdown, but a huge, scream-filled T-A-N-T-R-U-M.

Olivia just stood there watching the chaos with her paci in her hand, and that's when she looked over and noticed me, sitting nearby and watching the whole ordeal. I wanted to say hi Ollie. You're really cute, and just in case you're wondering how to spell dad, it's R-E-T-A-R-D.

It Looks Good on You, Though

Even though I've spent the last 15+ years in suburbia surrounded by cul de sacs filled with houses painted every hue of taupe imaginable, I spent my childhood and high school years in Forest Lake, MN, which is a town about a half-hour north of either Minneapolis or St. Paul. Some people refer to Forest Lake as "that town on the way to Duluth," and I guess they're right, if "on the way" means "after passing Forest Lake and then driving another 140 miles, you end up in Duluth."

I moved to Minneapolis within a month after graduating from high school and have never moved back, which means that after I left, the minority population of the entire town could be counted on one hand. This could be why, except for the occasional dinner at my parents' red house on the circle, I haven't ever been motivated to spend much time there. So why I suddenly thought that spending this year's 4th of July wandering around Forest Lake seemed like a great idea is just slightly more than completely bewildering. Maybe I thought that since I haven't lived there for such a long time, things had progressed. And who knows, it might be fun for my kids to spend some time seeing where I grew up, listening to me be a dorky, cliche parent saying things like "See that baseball dugout over there? I used to sit in there and smoke" or "There's the high school where I skipped a lot of classes, especially political science."

After wandering around the "midway" for three minutes, I quickly realized that not only was I still the only Asian in the town, but now my whole family was involved in the list of "only's":

• We were the only people not smoking, although I could sense Zoe giving it strong consideration.
• I was the only girl over 18 without a tramp stamp. And who knows, maybe Zoe was the only girl under 18 without one.
• Doug was the only guy not wearing suspenders, tube socks, a sleeveless t-shirt with an eagle on the front, a mullet, a giant chain on his wallet, or any combination of the above.
• We were the only family not holding a tray of cheese curds.
• Doug and I were the only parents that weren't swearing at their kids.

I will admit that it was slightly fun to watch my boys jump back a little when they were on the receiving end of a carni's toothless smile, but most of the fun came from the people watching. I'm still shocked that Doug and I were able to keep track of our kids, considering how often one of our heads would whip around while we said "Holy shit, did you see that dude? What the hell!" over and over again. It got to the point where I realized that there was no way Doug was going to see everything and everybody, considering the excessive amount of time he was spending doubled over with laughter, so I did what any thoughtful, considerate wife would do: I started taking pictures so that he could look at them later.

You have to wonder what the rest of this guy's closet looks like. Does he have a large selection of jorts, suspenders in other colors, short-sleeve dress shirts in an assortment of patterns and crocs for every day of the week?

My 20-year class reunion is coming up and when I asked Doug, jokingly, if he wanted to go with me (because I already knew the answer was "hell no") his much more creative answer was "See that? I would rather wear that guy's outfit to the office for a week than go to your class reunion." This was a relief to hear, since I had just sent in my RSVP with payment for only one person.

Like I said, we were the only people not smoking. In addition, I kind of felt like a minority because I wasn't displaying any whale tail or muffin top.

"DAMMIT Frank! I told you to bring some chips to the picnic! And what about the dip? Who was supposed to bring the goddamn dip? We only have nine bags and six jars! We're going to run out! Oh, and let me just dig through this bucket of chicken and touch each and every piece before I put one on my plate, and then sit right by the chips because there isn't any room left after piling on 7 scoops of coleslaw."

This is a perfect example as to why I prefer places that enforce the "shirt and shoes required" policy. Where are the shattered glass shards when I need some!?

I feel like such a fool. All this time I thought that CMA stood for "Country Music Association" or "Cows Moo Absentmindedly." Who knew it stood for "Christian Motorcyclists Association." Hell, who even knew that there was a Christian Motorcyclists Association. Do they keep a Bible in their saddlebag? Do they pray before they rev the engines? Will she be forgiven for wearing that top?

You may think that, except for the boots, this person really doesn't look that bad. Well, just be glad I didn't take a picture of the front view. Feel free to use your imagination...

This is the bouncer. Doug was observant enough to point out that apparently no one got the memo saying that a bouncer should be strong, fast and be able to present himself as dominant, not just look big. And immobile. And passive.

Believe it or not, this girl wasn't on her lunch break from the Hulk Hogan/KISS/court jester side show. I'm thinking that maybe she was just trying to attract attention to herself so that people would then look at the person next to her and realize that Karin Housley is running for Senate in District 57. Karin isn't a typical politician and wants to bring "real life experience" to the Senate. In fact, she's determined to get this state "back on track" and is "passionate about budgets," believes we need to "create more jobs" and is determined to not let people look like morons by wearing red and black striped tights.

I was trying to take a picture of the lady in the sweet jeans playing Skeeball because she was really good and about to break the high score, but then this cowgirl do-si-doed right in front of my camera.

I'm going to put this picture on our refrigerator so that every time I tell one of my boys to go change his clothes and they say why, I can point at this kid and say because you don't want some freaky lady laughing at you, taking your picture and then posting it on her blog.

Summer, Please Slow Down

While I am more than happy to embrace the upcoming three-day weekend and submerge myself in beer, bratwurst and potato chips, watch some fireworks and remember the important rule of "Stop, drop and roll!" I am a little pissed off because typically, the 4th of July means two things: 1) Zoe will have a hard time going to bed because of the random fireworks that last until midnight; and 2) Summer is half-over.

Normally I'm an optimist that says things like "Yay, I still have half of a beer left" or "Mmm, someone left half a bag of jalapeno kettle chips, it must be my lucky day!" And some people will say something lame like oh boy, good sleeping weather is right around the corner! But half of the summer being over is just that: half of the summer. Oh-Ver.

In an attempt to put some sort of positive spin on the holiday and not dwell on the reality that some grocery stores are already stocking back-to-school supplies, I decided to find some new recipes to try. Nothing spectacular or fancy, just little additions here and there to help differentiate this weekend's cookout from the typical weeknight burgers on the grill.

The first thing I found was this macaroni salad. It's so good and reminds me of every neighborhood potluck that I used to attend as a kid, in the days before bringing a bag of chips was considered a suitable potluck contribution. Substitutions and fat-reductions are easily made, I've yet to use exact measurements and it always turns out the same: delicious. Please note, though: It makes a hell of a lot of salad, so unless there are ten people in your family and they all love macaroni salad, cutting the recipe in half is not a horrible idea.

Then I found an article in the paper promoting the benefits of making your own hot dog buns. According to the article, homemade buns "enhance whatever comes off the grill, elevate any cookout to a peak experience" and can become "a memorable part of your meal." Even though the thought of spending several hours in the kitchen to make hot dog buns that could be bought at the store in 42 seconds seemed completely stupid, the picture of the eggy, poppyseed-encrusted bun that accompanied the article did look good, and I imagined it would be even better paired up with an all-beef dog, sport peppers, onions, mustard and relish. So I read the recipe:

• 3 1/4 c. all-purpose flour
• 1/2 c. whole wheat flour
• 1 1/4 tsp. instant yeast
• 1 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1 1/2 c. room-temperature water
• 1 tbsp. honey
• 1/4 c. olive oil
• sesame, poppy or other seeds for the topping
• beaten egg for brushing the buns

Combine the dry stuff with a whisk, add the water, honey and oil and mix with a wooden spoon. The ball of dough will look a bit shaggy. (WTF is "shaggy?" Honesty, that adjective should never, ever be used to describe something that will at some point be eaten.)

Put it on a floured surface and knead the crap out of it, flouring only your hands if necessary, which will probably result in flouring the floor, the fridge handle, your hair, the phone and the dog. The dough should then pass the windowpane test, whatever the hell that is.

Put dough in a lightly oiled bowl, turning to coat. Cover with plastic wrap, or if you're out of plastic wrap, go to the store and buy a package of hot dog buns. If you did have plastic wrap, let rise 1 1/2 to 2 hours, until doubled and an indentation remains when you poke it with your finger. Poke it about as hard as you poke your kid when you're trying to get their attention and have said their name four times but they haven't responded so you reach over and poke that super-fleshy part of their arm.

Gently remove the dough from the bowl and put it on a lightly floured surface. Or, if it's stuck because you forgot to oil the bowl, tug the shit out of it. Shape it into a square, or something that sort of resembles a square, cut it in half, or as close to half as you can, then cut each half into four rectangles. At this point, you should have eight hunks of unrecognizable dough, that may or may not end up resembling hot dog buns.

There are more directions for shaping the dough into specific buns, which involves more kneading, pinching, squeezing, shaping, scraping and another hour of rising. When the dough eventually looks like something you think you'd want to jam a hunk of meat into, before you bake it brush it with the egg and dump on some seeds. At least I think this is what you're supposed to do, because I sort of lost interest.

It turns out that homemade buns, from start to finish, take about four hours. Now, I don't know about you, but I say fuck it to the concept of homemade buns. I think I'll continue to buy my buns, use booze to elevate my cookout to peak experience and I'm pretty sure the memorable part of the meal will be spending four hours watching drunk Uncle Mike fall out of the canoe before passing out on a picnic table, using the store-bought package of hot dog buns as a pillow.

Just when I thought that macaroni salad was going to be my only new addition, a hyper-intelligent person named Jennie, who somehow detected my lack of baking skills but sensed that I had excellent drinking skills, gave me a recipe for bourbon slush. Now this is a recipe that justifies having to lug an extra cooler to the cookout.

Bourbon Slush/Double Batch

2 cups boiling water

4 tea bags

7 c. water

1 1/2 c. sugar

1 1/2 c. bourbon

12 oz. frozen concentrate orange juice, thawed

12 oz. frozen concentrate lemonade, thawed

Club soda

Steep the tea bags in the boiling water for 3 to 4 minutes. In a large, freezer-safe container mix together the tea, water and sugar until the sugar has dissolved. Add the bourbon, orange concentrate, and lemonade concentrate. Mix well, then cover and place in freezer.

Remove from freezer ten minutes before serving. Scrape with a spoon, fill glass about 3/4 full, then top with club soda and stir.

Or do like I'm planning and randomly grab hunks out of the freezer throughout the day and pop them straight into your mouth like ice cubes.

Lazy My Ass!

Three questions that I have already heard at least a dozen times this summer that make me want to commit murder, or at least inflict massive amounts of pain accompanied by significant bleeding:

1. What are you going to do all day?
2. Why are you so tan? Do you do anything besides sit in the sun? (I know, technically this is two questions, but they're related enough to be considered as one.)
3. What are you going to do with all your time this fall when the kids will be in school all day? Are you going back to work? (Again, two questions, but one always accompanies the other and they're always asked by the same moron)

Here are my feeble, anger-managed attempts to answer the first two questions:

During the three, sometimes four months of a Minnesota summer when it is warm enough to sit outdoors dressed in something less than a turtleneck, I tend to get tan. Maybe this is due to the fact that, even though I like to act like I'm Irish, I'm really not Irish at all and am actually quite Asian. Like 100% Asian. And Asians tend to get sort of tan. Like really tan. Even with sunscreen. So, unlike my husband who only manages to get tannish, I get very brown. Not brownish or sun-kissed, but brown. I don't need to be stationary, reclined, or have a beer in my hand to acquire this tan, but those three things definitely don't hurt the process.

As far as what I do all day during the summer: The last time I checked, summer vacation didn't come stocked with a cleaning lady, chef, personal driver or errand boy. It also didn't come with a lawn boy, laundry service, dog walker or schedule manager. So even though I wish I was able to devote gobs of time to being selfish and thinking of nothing but myself when I'm sitting by the pool, that type of behavior would probably result in a sunburnt, starving or in a worst-case scenario, drowned child and a whole lot of lists that didn't get made for the errands that need to be ran in the car that someone has to put gas in and remember to get the oil changed.

So, even when it appears that I am taking advantage of a little personal time by participating in such indulgent activities as reading, sitting in the sunshine or peeing by myself, here's a little note to the inconsiderate morons that are assuming I'm being lazy and selfish and want to share their opinion with me: Shut the fuck up, because with stay-at-home-moms, nothing is ever as it appears to be.

What I'm doing: Peeing.

What I'm thinking: Oh look, the hand soap is almost gone so I need to add it to the never-ending Target list. I see a dried soapy water glob on the floor, maybe if I stretch really far I'll be able to reach it and clean it up. "What? No, I'm not sure how jelly beans are made, maybe if you wait until I'm done peeing we can find out together, because I don't have Google in here." Which reminds me, I need to call the pharmacy and refill my birth control prescription.

What I'm doing: Sitting by the pool.

What I'm thinking/saying: Come here I need to put sunscreen on you. Turn around. Turn around the other way. Not that way, the other way. Now you, come here for sunscreen. Thank you, kid #3, for needing your own personal invitation to get sunscreen on. Yes, we need to do your face too. Please stay where I can see you. No don't throw the football all the way across the pool. I don't care if you didn't do it, just say you're sorry. Please don't drown each other. No you cannot stand on each other's shoulders. Oh my god someone make that toddler quit screaming, I don't think he likes the water. Please shut him up. Please watch your sister so I can pee and get far away from that screaming kid.

What I'm hearing: Mom I'm thirsty. Mom I'm hungry. Mom I forgot to bring a towel from the locker room. Mom, where are my goggles. Mom I have to pee. Mom I'm thirsty again. Oh, all you have is water? I guess I'm not thirsty. I think I need more sunscreen. Where is it? I can't find it. I don't think it's in there can you find it? Mom I stubbed my toe on the bottom of the pool so I need a Band-Aid. Where are the Band-Aids? By the sunscreen?

What I'm doing: Watching a movie.

What I'm thinking: What was that noise? It sounded like feet on the floor, someone must be up and they're probably going to appear on the steps right as John Malkovich screams "You fucking fuckers!" at the top of his lungs. Oh crap, I forgot that I have a load of laundry in the dryer that I need to go fold. Sorry, yes you need to pause it, I'm really sorry, I'll be right back. In ten minutes. Oh, I might as well let the dog out while I'm folding laundry. Ah hell, where did the damn dog go? Shit, he took off. Guess it'll be longer than ten minutes. Great, now I have to go pee. And I see another soap scum glob on the floor. And there's the almost-empty soap, which reminds me that I still need to go to Target.

What I'm doing: Driving to tennis.

What I'm thinking: Did anyone forget anything? Does everyone have their tennis bag and a water bottle? Come on lady! Green means go! Accelerate please! Oh I see, you're on the phone, and your conversation is so much more important than actually operating your SUV. Zoe, please put your window up. No you may not yell at that man on the motorcycle because you might startle him and then he'll fall off and I might run him over and I don't have time to deal with something like that right now. No, you cannot have gum right now. No, I said no. No I can't get you a piece of gum, I'm trying to not crash. OK FINE! Charlie, get her a piece of gum! But please be quiet and stop shrieking! Oh, oh my god. Look at that girl driving without any hands. Well, that's why she's driving like that since she needed a free hand to throw a cigarette butt at me. Zach. Hey Zach. Zachary. ZACH!!!! Oh forget it, now I forgot what I was going to say.

What I'm doing: Exercising.

What I'm thinking: Why am I working out right now because I still need to cut the grass. Hopefully there isn't any crap from the neighbor's dog in my yard. Speaking of crap, I guess the kids are up since I hear feet and toilets flushing. Wait, what time is it? Man, I hope I have enough time to mow and then take a shower before the boys need to be at their orthodontist appointment. And I should probably sprint through the grocery store after their appointment since there is a tennis tournament this weekend. Which means I need to regrip racquets. I wonder how much gas is in the car, which also needs to be washed. Oh ick, that table over there is kind of dusty. Maybe I'll have time to clean between mowing and showering, before I leave for their appointment. Oh, hi Zoe. No, you cannot have Fruit By The Foot and Club crackers for breakfast. I'll make you something in seven minutes when I'm done working out. Seven. Yes, seven minutes. No, that's not infinity, it's seven stupid minutes. No, you will not starve. Go read two books and that will take seven minutes. No, you cannot eat a Fruit By The Foot while you read the books. Oh the hell with it. I guess I'm done.

What I'm doing: Sitting on the couch.

What I'm thinking: After cleaning the house, making three meals, running errands, doing four loads of laundry, working out, walking the dog, organizing a couple drawers, taking out the garbage and cleaning the kitchen for the fifth time in a day, I decided to grab a magazine and sit down on the couch.

What I hear: Hey mom, I was sitting there. And I'm hungry.

What I'm doing: Reading the paper.

What really happens: Researchers..."What? No, I'm not getting you a pet fish today. Maybe another day." Okay, where was I. Researchers have dis... "I don't know what day. Just not today. We don't have enough time." Researchers have discovered th... "No, I don't know how many sleeps it is until Cosmo's birthday. Yes, I know he's old." What the hell was I reading? Oh yeah, Researchers have discovered that the amo... "What? Yes, I suppose we will have to get him a cupcake or something. No, we are not taking him out to dinner." Resear... "He just can't go to dinner with us, that's why. Please let me finish reading the paper." Researchers have discovered that the amount of... "Really? Well, that's great. Thanks for letting me know that you just farted. I guess I'll just pinch my nose while I read." Researchers have dis... "No! You are not getting the fish tomorrow either! Seriously! Let me finish one sentence!" Researchers have discovered that the amount of vodka consumed by a stay-at-home-mom greatly exceeds the average amount consumed by the other adults.

What I'm thinking: Well, DUH!

As far as answering the third question, after a lot of brainstorming and introspection, I came up with the following answers: A) Stuff, and; B) No.

Happily Hydrated

Today is the first official day of summer, and now that summer vacation is officially here and the temperature each day will (hopefully) make me sweat, I've decided to make a conscious effort to drink more water. The positive result of drinking more is that I stay hydrated and also feel like I'm setting a good example for my kids (See mom holding a bottle of water. I told you I don't always need to hold a bottle of beer, sometimes I am happy drinking water. Mmmmm, water.) The downside of drinking a lot of H2O is that I end up having to pee a lot. Like, all-the-time a lot. And like most other moms, I don't have time to be peeing all the time because if there's anything more inconvenient than having to find a bathroom for a kid that suddenly has to pee, it's finding a bathroom for yourself after holding it as long as you possibly can (which, after childbirth, really isn't that long) and then trying to convince the kids that they might as well go now while we're right by the bathroom so we don't have to find one later, but then end up arguing over the fact that they don't have to go now so they'll wait, but you refuse to lose a fight so you stand there doing a pee dance while yelling "Just go now while we're here! Try to go. JUST TRY DAMMIT!" so they say geez, have a spaz why don't you and then you suddenly understand why they're marketing Poise pads to such a young demographic. Yeah, this is all kind of inconvenient.

Drinking an extra glass of water or two a day doesn't seem like it should be a huge pain in the ass, but finding the perfect level of hydration is harder than it sounds. The most ideal scenario would be to find the happy place between never being desperately thirsty and not having to pee twenty times a day, but also being able to occasionally hit a blood/alcohol percentage that doesn't leave my pee the color of mustard. In order to achieve this goal, I read some hydration tips and have now come to the following conclusion: I'm screwed.

Start each day with a glass of water (no ice) before you have coffee. This seems like it should be easy, except for the fact that for me, a glass of water first thing in the morning tastes like paint thinner and makes me feel ill. After extensive research, I've discovered that the only beverage that agrees with me is coffee with caramel creamer and Splenda. After that first cup of coffee, though, I'm more than happy to drink a glass of water, as long as it's been heated to a high temperature before sucking the goodness from coffee grounds and then mixed with some caramel creamer and Splenda.

Eat two or three servings of fruits and vegetables at every meal. Since I eat berries for breakfast and a ginormous salad for lunch pretty much everyday, I'm going to go ahead and say that I probably don't have a fruit and vegetable shortage, and therefore won't be able to use this tip to increase my hydration levels. However, if I do feel like I am experiencing a shortage, then I'm sure the lime wedge that I jam into my Corona bottle probably takes care of it.

Establish regular water breaks, if possible. I loathe public water fountains because I've seen what some people touch before they touch the handle, and I've seen the booger-covered faces that come within an inch of the nozzle. I do try to always keep a bottle of water in the car for when thirst strikes, but inevitably thirst ends up striking Zoe after she's been chowing down on Cheez-Its and for some reason, after she's sucked on the bottle of water it doesn't seem that, um, clear and refreshing anymore.

Substitute sparkling water and low-sodium vegetable juice for soda and fruit juice. This one I can probably do, since both spicy V8 and sparkling water mix well with booze. And since I'm supposed to cut back on the Diet Coke and cranberry juice, then I guess I'll just have to start drinking the Captain Morgan and vodka straight.

Install water filters in your home and use a pitcher-type filter at the office. Let me just say that if I am outside on a 90-degree day and have just finished mowing and am about to collapse from heat and thirst, but I don't want to go in the house since I'm covered in grass clippings and dripping sweat, I have been known to suck quarts of water straight out of the garden hose. Has this practice killed me? No. Is there a water filter on my garden hose? No. And since my fridge at home is now full of salad, V8, sparkling water and lime wedges, there really isn't any space for a pitcher-type filter.

Cook with high-quality sea salt. I wouldn't even consider using anything else on the rims of my margarita glass.

A Much Needed Break

Today is the last day of school and while I know there a lot of parents that dread the start of summer vacation, I happen to love being a stay-at-home-mom in the summer. Sure, I'll miss having a couple hours to myself everyday to be able to swear out loud and I won't have uninterrupted time to sit on my ass, eat chips, paint my nails and occasionally work out, but I will gladly trade these things in for the knowledge that, at least for a couple months, the main things I worry about are getting the kids to tennis lessons on time, whether or not it's okay to grill hot dogs three nights in a row, and if we should have happy hour on the deck or in the driveway.

As my kids get older, the school year has definitely become more time consuming. For example, Zoe's last few days of kindergarten revolved around eating cookies, hanging out on the playground, a party, an art project and singing songs. Charlie's a sixth grader and his second week of June included a phy-ed sports day, a full-day field trip, and an end-of-year party that lasted five hours (the other hour and-a-half was taken up with lunch and recess). On the other hand, Zach's last few days as an eighth grader consisted of finals, last-minute projects being handed in and several hours of homework. So while it seems that Zoe and Charlie's summer vacations started a week ago, I've been impatiently waiting for Zach's summer to start since the beginning of April because honestly, the kid needs a break. Oh, and I need one too, from:

1. The weekly notes that come home advising me that a child in ____'s classroom has strept throat, influenza, pink eye, or my all-time favorite: ring worm.
2. Wednesday Envelopes, the communication system that the elementary school uses to send home fundraiser notices, lunch menus, science camp opportunities, registration info for sports, PTO updates and the school newsletter. In other words, the majority of the Wednesday Envelope contents gets chucked directly into the recycling bin.
3. The non-stop requests for money to cover the costs for art projects, field trips, class parties, school pictures, athletic fees, and t-shirts.
4. Asking "Do you have your snack?" every morning and "How much homework do you have?" every afternoon.
5. Getting the following emails: A) Kindergarten is looking for a couple mommies to volunteer; B) According to our records, ____ has a low lunch account balance, so please deposit money at your earliest convenience, like NOW; and C) Kindergarten REALLY needs a couple mommies with some free time that can volunteer.
6. Finding out that a kid needs two styrofoam cubes, a bag of marbles, three pieces of brown felt and some maracas -- yesterday.
7. Hearing the drama about "so and so said she won't be my friend if I'm friends with Suzie but I like Suzie so why can't I be friends with her that just seems weird and sorta mean," from a kindergartner.
8. Huge science projects, group science projects, and the other 15 science projects.
9. School drop-off and pick-up and dealing the fact that carpool is apparently defined as "Jody drives."
10. Driving to after-school rehearsals for orchestra, before-school rehearsals for choir, and attending three evening concerts for each.

I know that occasionally there will be small reminders of the school year during the summer, like when I use a coupon out of the Happenings Book that I bought for a fundraiser in September or wrap a gift using the paper I bought for the fundraiser in October. And even though retailers are cruel enough to start back-to-school sales at the beginning of August, I love knowing that during the summer months, my kid-related responsibilities are pretty much defined by tennis lessons, swimming at the club, packing a cooler with sandwiches and when I should reapply sunscreen. Of course there will still be laundry to do, a house to clean, a lawn to mow and errands to run, but fortunately there are also popsicles to eat, a sprinkler to run through, burgers to grill and a park to be played on.

Oh, and there's also that fridge full of beer to drink.