Oh Shit.

In honor of the late George Carlin, I flat out refuse to censor the title of this post, especially after what I had to deal with this afternoon.

It’s summer camp week in the Madden household. I tell you, I had a time finding a summer camp for Cassie – not too many places take pre-K kids. Technically, my girl is old enough and way smart enough for any camp, but 99% of them insist that your child be finished with kindergarten before they’ll accept them. Don’t know why; maybe they’re afraid the uncivilized little pre-K’s will eat the post-K’s alive.

So anyway, I found a camp at Virginia Living Museum and I signed Cassie up for it, completely forgetting that Cassie’s pre-school graduation was the same week, so I had to go back and cancel that. I lost ten dollars on that, but fortunately the Norfolk Botanical Gardens also has a summer camp that costs ten dollars less than VLM and they had dates available at a time when our calendar was clear, so I signed Cassie up for that and now she’s happily attending summer camp.

Unfortunately, Sam and I are attending with her. Cassie’s camp lasts from 9 AM to noon, and Norfolk Botanical Gardens is just far enough away that I can’t really justify dropping Cassie off and then going home, especially given how bad the traffic can be in that area. It has taken us anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour to get to camp, and if I were to drop Cassie off and go home, chances are really good that I’d have to turn around as soon as I got back just so I could pick her up again.
Now I know I could just leave Cassie at camp and go somewhere else in Norfolk, but really, my only options are to go shopping at the local stores because three hours isn’t that much time for sight-seeing, and I don’t want to go shopping because I’m already losing enough money as it is on gas and camp fees on this venture. Sooooo, everyday this week we arrive around 9 AM at the garden, I drop Cassie off with her class, and then I grab Sam and the stroller and I take off into the garden for a three-hour tour, a three-hour tour…

Huh? Where was I? Oh year, three hours in the Norfolk Botanical Garden. It’s pretty much all outside, so you know what that means – no air conditioning. The temperatures have been in the nineties all week, and I’m thinking that between the heat and the exercise I get from lugging around Sam, her stroller and her snacks, I just might be another two pounds lighter come Friday. I know because this is just like Disney World all over again – heat + lots of walking + lugging around kids = negative weight gain. If I could patent this weight loss plan, I’d make a fortune. Oh wait, everybody already knows about the wonders of exercise, don’t they?

So we’re in the garden all day, hiking and sweating and practicing karate (which seems to only slightly scare the other visitors) because I have a review coming up tonight. Then around 11:45 I meet Cassie in the children’s garden and we walk back to the car and head home. Now I know that after three hours in that kind of heat, doing that much walking, I am exhausted. And Sam and Cassie should be too. Should be. Cassie has been nodding off at the drop of a hat all through the day, so no problems there, but Sam?

Sam. I’m gonna kill that kid.

I put her down in her crib shortly after we got back today. I know she’s tired. But did she go to sleep? No, she spent an hour or so singing in her crib. And doing other things.

Other things like pulling off her diaper and smearing herself, the crib, and all her toys with shit.

I discovered this activity when I passed by her room on the way to get myself a soda. The odor was overpowering, wafting out from under the door to permeate the hallway. I had to put Sam in the tub and scrub her from head to toe, then take all her bedding and crib toys and throw them in the washer. The room still smells like poop, which makes me wonder if I’ve missed a spot, but I searched and couldn’t find anything. My luck, I’ll step in it later tonight when I put Sam down for bed.

We have one more day of camp left, and then I’m praying that we go back to a quiet summer schedule – no more travel, no more unexpected trips, no more hours spent walking around in the heat just waiting to die. I want to stay home and work. Lord knows, I’ve got more to do than hours to do it in.

Better get crackin’, I guess.