"Scary"

My name is Whitney. I stand 5’3 on a “Tall Day” and weigh in at…a healthy weight. I am not large in size, but I’m pretty feisty. If you know me, you likely think I’m sweet, considerate and very “non-scary".

While I’m a big advocate of the campaign my kids started in my honor, called “Crazy Beats Big Any Day”, I never really thought I was all THAT terrifying.

But, if I’m being 100% honest with myself, I guess I should acknowledge…

Yes…

I have been very known for getting more than a little loud at the ball field on occasion. (What?!)

And…

HEAVEN FORBID anyone try to “come between me and MY man” (Spoken in my annoying Big Brother Rachel voice).

But, today someone I love deeply told me it was often hard to tell me the truth, because I made them feel afraid.

Afraid…

Of me.

Of what I would think.

Of what I would do.

Of what I would say.

It was in that moment, I realized I need to give people a little more slack. I always say if you don’t want to be disappointed, don’t expect too much from anyone.

But, the truth is, I expect a lot from everyone in my life. Not just “a lot”. A LOT.

My expectations for myself, for those I love and for those I choose to let in my life are great. In fact, they are most often so unreasonable, there is no one who could ever fulfill them to meet my standards. I preach the value of character authenticity, but then I am quick to cast judgment on it when it’s revealed.

I suppose you don’t have to be 7 feet tall and weigh 500 pounds to be terrifying. No, you can be 5’3, weigh a buck thirty five and still have the power to cause such immense fear that you’re unable to be given the truth.

I’ve decided I don’t want to be “scary” anymore.

So, to those who deserve it…I’m sorry. <3

Whitney

The Water Shut-Off

At the complete risk of completely humiliating myself, just to entertain my Big Sister and a few others who actually enjoy reading this blog…

Yesterday, our water was shut off. Not because the construction workers building the home across the street hit some sort of water line, not because I had a plumbing problem, but...for non-payment.

Yep. It turns out, if you owe the water company money, they can choose to cut your water off. Even if you only owe them $27.

Look, it wasn’t that I didn’t have the $27 in the bank to pay the bill. I most certainly did and the minute I realized my oversight, I obviously paid the bill.

It’s just that in a world where I’m trying to juggle a 3rd grader, a 6th grader, a crazy fireman husband, additional graduate classes, a full time job and an obsession with songwriting and performing, some things get forgotten. Sadly, the water bill was at the absolute dead-last-bottom of my priority list.

Thankfully, Hubbit, who has been telling me for about two weeks to “slow it down” and “you’re doing WAY too much these days”, was completely asleep during the entire fiasco. I have to admit, I did breathe a sigh of relief when after I humbly called to admit my oversight and pay the bill, they turned the water back on...before Hubbit woke from his nap.

Little did I realize, since Flea was home sick from school and witnessed the “Water Shut-Off”, after we picked up Bug from school, he revealed our little dirty secret. Flea also felt inclined to tell my parents, who then quickly called me to be sure I didn’t need money. Not a bad problem to have really...parents who are forever trying to give me cash! But, since I’m the world’s best daughter, I did not take their cash and simply admitted to my mistake. ;)

While we’re a family who likes to have no secrets, the problem with telling Bug ANYTHING is...he has zero ability to keep it to himself. He’s definitely not the kid to reveal anything to.

Not Chrismas present purchases. Not that you REALLY dislike his coach. Not that you secretly passed gas.

Because, he WILL tell.

So, ultimately Hubbit did find out and I got the exact response I knew I would get...”slow it down” and “you’re doing WAY too much these days”.

UGH. Doesn’t he know SuperWoman can do it ALL? Geez. Such a hater.

Side Note: Last year I made a bold statement that people over the age of 21 should NEVER use the word “hater”, by the way. In fact, my declaration REALLY ticked off at least one person. (giggle) But, in all fairness, it really does fit nicely in this context...so eat it up!

Anyhow, what no one knows...

I had already taken a shower before the big “Water Shut-Off” event, so the only thing I was genuinely concerned with was finding water to use for hand washing after using the bathroom. I searched the pantry and successfully found two bottled waters.

We were home free! Or so I thought...

After feeling confident we would “survive” this aggravation, I went to a few appointments and took Flea to the doctor. When I returned home, the water still hadn’t been cut back on.

No big deal. I settled down to do a little work, when I remembered I hadn’t washed Bug’s football pants and socks.

Since he didn't have practice until a few hours later, I knew there was still time. However, I had to act quickly, because I was scheduled for a studio session and had to leave 35 minutes later. I threw the clothes into my handy-dandy front loader, added detergent and turned it on. It started making a crazy noise and wouldn’t start.

My immediate thought was that our washer was broken and I started cursing the evil-too-expensive-not-really-worth-it machine. In my defense, since our dryer broke last week, I was a little paranoid about another broken appliance.

Knowing I didn’t have time for a “broken washer”, I did exactly what I do whenever I forget to wash things and have less than an hour to deal with it. I grabbed the clothing out of the washer, ran to the boys’ bathroom, tossed them in the sink and BEFORE THINKING, added a ton of liquid blue laundry detergent to the WHITE pants. Just like always, I twisted the water knob, fully prepared to see water come out so I could do my quick hand-wash.

ONLY...there was no water. How could I have forgotten about the “Water Shut-Off” and made such a big mistake. I looked at the clock and had absolutely NO time to run to the store for a gallon of water.

So, I panicked.

I looked at the bright white pants, covered in bright blue Tide. I looked at the remaining small amount of “hand washing bottled water” I had left. And, I almost started to cry.

Where on Earth was I going to get enough water to rinse out all of the detergent, so I could throw the pants in the dryer and hit the road to my session?

Just then, I got an idea. I’ll admit it wasn’t an ideal plan. In fact, if presented the chance again, I’m not sure I would do the same.

But, when your water has been shut off and you’re in a desperate situation, as I certainly was...

Lifting the back cover on your toilet, MIGHT OR MIGHT NOT be your magical-hear-angels-singing solution...

And you MIGHT OR MIGHT NOT be able to use the back of the toilet as a mini washing machine...

And if you are blessed to have three toliets with backs full of water, you MIGHT OR MIGHT NOT have enough clean water to rinse out a ton of blue liquid Tide from bright white youth football pants.

I guess, Hubbit doesn’t call me the Redneck Martha Stewart for nothing.

Whitney

We never know the worth of water, until the well is dry. (Author Unknown)

happy. 1st. day. of. school. seriously.

Today is the first day of school here, which means several things…


1) I might…JUST MIGHT…be able to blog more regularly now! Woot!! Woot!!

2) I gave THE performance of my life this morning, (in hopes of being nominated for a “Best Actress” award, of course) fighting back tears and pretending it didn’t bother me for a second to send my big boy to his first year of middle school (…gasp…) and my little bug to his first year at a new school, after being diagnosed with Diabetes (…double gasp…).

Thankfully Hubbit took off for a few hours this morning to be my ever present “Emotional Rock”. Last week when he mentioned he was taking off a few hours for the first day of school morning ritual, I was a little surprised. At that point the reality of this morning was far from my conscious, as we were trying to soak up the last little bit of summer break, laying poolside.

Our convo went something like this…

Hubbit: I’m taking off for a few hours next Thursday morning, just to help you get the kids off to school.
Me: Um, ok. I’m sure I’ll be fine though, seeing I’ve been getting at least one kid off to school EVERY day for the past six years. (Eye-Roll-I-Am-Woman-Hear-Me-Roar-Look)
Hubbit: (Totally aggravated at my eye roll, since he swares it’s the non-verbal equivalent to saying “FU”.) Well, maybe I just don’t want to miss their first morning back.
Me: Ok. (Thinking he is such a great daddy.)

What Hubbit knew then and I was simply too blind to realize is, I TOTALLY needed him this morning. While I’m sure he did love seeing the boys off to school this morning, he is one of those rare finds (AKA Soul Mate) who sincerely knows me better than I know myself. I always joke, he knows when to put his arms out to catch me, even before I know I’m falling and today was a prime example.

When Bug started crying at his desk, after we said goodbye in the classroom, I immediately shot Hubbit my “Please-Rescue-Me-Before-I-Totally-Lose-It-And-Bawl-Like-A-Crazy-Lady” look and he swooped in to fix everything. After a few minutes with his Daddy, Bug was tear-free and ready for a wonderful day! What would have happened if Hubbit hadn’t taken off this morning? Um, I would probably have laid my head down on that desk, right next to Bug’s, and wept too.

What can I say? I’ve said it about Hubbit before and I’ll say it again. He’s a keeper!


3)Hubbit and I were reminded that while we THINK we’re the hippest and coolest parents EVA…we are sadly as dorky as Flea constantly reminds us of being.

Here’s the scoop…

Hubbit and I both rode along to drop Flea off for his very first day of middle school, the thought of which brings me complicated and diverse horrors on many levels. I was feeling cool and confident as we properly navigated the potentially insane drop off route, with absolute ease. (Big thanks to EJH Middle School for providing an advanced copy of your car dropoff map I could actually decipher and understand.)

When we pulled up to the drop off point, Flea got out of the vehicle and started walking away from us, toward the school’s door. Hubbit and I looked at each other, in complete awe of the fact we now have a 6th grader.

Hubbit: Wow, it’s unreal he’s in 6th grade already.
Me: (Again, holding back those Crazy-Mom tears) I know. It just kills me. He’s like a little man.

Just as we were wallowing in our ridiculous sorrow, Flea looked back, smiled the biggest smile ever and waved. Shocked, surprised and ridiculously OVERJOYED at the fact our pre-teen son who typically only claims us as his biological parental figures when he needs cash or food, actually waved to US on his first day of school, we FRANTICALLY waved back and blew kisses, with Giant-Almost-Psychotic-Smiles on our faces.

However, our joy only lasted a moment when we glanced behind us to see a group of Flea’s best friends waving their arms in the air and yelling...

“Hey Flea! Wait for us!”

...and the embarrassing realization washed over us, as we realized he was indeed NOT waving to us.

Once a dork, always a dork. (Author Unknown, but I'd be willing to bet it was a teenager!)

The Fish.

If someone asked me how I operated under pressure, and I was COMPLETELY honest, I would say…TERRIBLY. In fact, these days I try to avoid drama like the plague because, although it amused me greatly as a teenager, it gives me total panic attacks these days. I avoid confrontation (unless it’s with an umpire or opposing coach on a baseball field, of course), stay clear of all crisis situations and basically try to keep as stress-free of an existence as I possibly can.

However, for SOME reason, Hubbit tends to attract chaos. For example, I would be perfectly happy and content living as a recluse in spider-less woods, miles and miles away from other people, where no one’s ridiculousness could skew my own. However, if I were to invite Hubbit to be my co-habitant in these spider-less woods that only exist in my sweetest dreams, there is no doubt…NO DOUBT…some person in need would stumble upon our creatively hidden tree house and need some type of flippin’ medical treatment, on a very regular basis.

I’ve pretty much come to expect some teenage pregnant chick to pass out, some old lady to crash into a tree or some anorexic beauty queen to have an allergic reaction to new psychiatric meds at any given time, pretty much any place we ever go. McDonald’s, an Interstate in Virginia or Arby’s…doesn’t matter where we are. It never fails, someone needs help and dun-dun-dun-aaaahhh…Hubbit comes to the rescue.

For the first few years, it freaked me out and Hubbit pretty much had two patients on his hands. The first being the person who was ACTUALLY in need of medical attention and the second being ME, the person who freaked-the-helicopter-out anytime an emergency occurred around me.

These days, my game plan goes a little something like this:

Stranger: Help, I think I am having a heart attack.
Hubbit: Dun-dun-dun-aaaahhh! I will save you!
Me: (turning immediately toward the door and saying to Hubbit) I’ll meet you in the car when this is all over, thanks.

Yep. Classic avoidance.

Something I’ve mastered over the years, no psychiatrist in their right mind can tell me isn’t helpful and/or healthy in at least SOME cases, such as this.

In any case, the whole point to my rambling is: Hubbit is a helper.

Now, on to the real dish…

About a week ago we were on our way to a family birthday gathering and as a result of an ignorant person trying to text while they were driving, two cars in front of us almost crashed horribly in front of us. At the speed we were going (Hubbit was driving so we ALL know it was faster than legally allowed), the crash would have been potentially very damaging to the cars and their drivers.

Hubbit joked: “Thank God they didn’t crash because I would not have been able to stop and help since it would have made us late for the birthday party. We're actually early for once.”

(Disclaimer: He was joking. We ALL know his “helper” mentality would not let him pass by anyone in need.)

Since we were actually running ahead of schedule, Hubbit decided he wanted to take us to this little fishing hole he’d discovered a few days before. While he knew you couldn’t eat them, he claimed he saw tons of enormous grass carp swimming in it and thought the kids might like to take a peek. After all, it was on our way to the birthday gathering.

We arrived at the little creek and when we did, were in absolute awe at the sight of thirty five GIANT grass carp, swimming in shallow water. Hubbit had noted the drop in the water level just from the day before, when he said it was basically at the top of the bank’s edge.

We all stood there, looking at the pretty 60 pound creatures floating around in the water. All of a sudden, Hubbit glanced down the creek and spotted a giant grass carp stuck in an extremely shallow area of water I’m pretty sure could best be described as a puddle. In fact, I’m 99% sure I’ve seen deeper puddles in the Wal-Mart parking lot after all of this rain we’ve had lately.

The fish had its head under the water, but most of its back was exposed above water. Hubbit grew concerned immediately. He was genuinely worried about the fate of this fish.

The only access to the big swimmer was to walk on really small rocks, into the middle of the creek. Convinced this fish would die unless he was able to transfer it back into the deeper water where the rest of the fish were fully covered, Hubbit insisted on venturing into the creek.

This is a man who just hours before told me he was thinking about taking up hunting and he now couldn’t stand the idea of this dumb fish dying. By the way, he’s never hunted in his life and I’m pretty sure he’d be more likely to kill a human being than a deer...but WHATEV.

I tried to stop him, considering we WERE on our way to a family party and HE was the one who insisted on us being timely. In addition, I was not amused by the fact he thought his giant size 15 shoes would fit easily on the tiny stones that led to the distressed swimmer.

But, my pleas fell upon deaf ears and before I knew it Hubbit was almost-falling every two seconds on the slippery rocks, making his way toward the fish. Meanwhile, Flea was laughing, Bug was begging to be allowed to help and I was praying out loud that Hubbit didn’t fall, knock himself unconscious and force me to make what would likely be the most embarrassing 911 call EVER. Although, I’m not sure if it would have been more embarrassing for me or him considering the Fire Department Grapevine passes gossip faster than any other I’ve ever witnessed. Who knew a bunch of middle aged men had better gossip spreading skills than the average 12 year old girl?!

In any case, he made it to the fish and bent down to pick up the giant creature. He picked it up with both hands easily, but as he stood up to walk three rocks down for the ultimate water transfer, the fish slipped right out of his hands. It landed on rocks (I have NO idea how it survived the fall) and before Hubbit could recover it once more, it slipped back into the puddle it was retrieved from.

At this point, I started trying to convince Hubbit things like…

1) It liked the puddle and actually WANTED to be there so it could tan it's back in the sun.
2) There’s no way a fish that big could be dumb enough to get itself stuck in a place it couldn’t survive. After all, it did somehow live long enough to pack on 60 POUNDS!
3) Even if he did catch the fish, it was far too slippery to actually hold onto long enough to make the intended transfer.

Persistent and stubborn, Hubbit refused to give up. Instead, he started silently looking around for something to aid him with the rescue. All of a sudden, Bug spotted an old rusty metal-grated-fence-type-of-thing and in his own personal MacGyver style, suggested Hubbit slap the fish up onto the grate and then carry the grate to the fuller area of water. Hubbit smiled, the plan was set into motion and Bug was VERY proud his idea was being put to use.

Twenty five minutes after we’d first arrived to the scene and after a few more failed attempts, the plan did work. The fish was “rescued” and we headed back to our parked vehicle.

As we got back in the van and buckled up, I looked Hubbit in the eye and said, “Well, it’s a good thing those cars didn’t crash because HEAVEN FORBID us be late because you had to play Superman or something.”

Whitney

“I used to be lost in the shuffle. Now I just shuffle along with the lost.” (Author Unknown)

Yep. We're "That" Family.

I love baseball.

Seriously, LOVE it. Doesn’t really matter who’s playing or if it’s major, minor or flippin’ t-ballers getting their ball-on, when Spring comes baseball is my “thang”.

So, I’m never one to complain when our kids’ baseball games aren’t called off for the possibility of rain and am all for getting the game in, if there’s anyway in the world it can be accomplished before the clouds burst open and Mother Nature shows her fury.

In fact, I think I might be more disappointed than the kids when their games get rained out!

But, last night was one of those nights the game should have been called off…BEFORE the torrential downpour began.

Here they were in the top of the 4th inning and like we’d all expected after it had gotten almost too dark to even see the ball five minutes prior, it started raining like Cahhhraaazzyyy!

Being great under pressure like he always is (giggle), Hubbit instructed Bug and I to start running for the van. Like good little soldiers, we did as we were told, only to get up the hill to the van and realize I had no keys to unlock the vehicle! So, we were forced to wait outside in the pouring rain for Hubbit and Flea, who FINALLY made their way to us with the keys, about FIVE minutes later.

As they came up the hill and noticed we were not safe and dry in the van as they’d expected, Hubbit yelled to me, “Where are your keys, you Moron?!”, just as Flea’s teammate’s grandmother rolled down her window to say goodbye.

Nice job looking like Husband of the Year, Hubbit.

Of course, since he had packed everything up and was carrying our chairs, a bat bag and most importantly…THE KEYS…I let his rudeness slide. For the moment. After all, Bug and I had run off with the only umbrella, totally abandoning him at the bottom of the hill with two arm loads of our crap.

After asking what took them so long to come to let us in the van, Hubbit started explaining:

Hubbit: Well, I was standing behind the dugout, getting DRENCHED, waiting on Flea to get his stuff together and run out. After waiting for about three minutes, I peeked around into the dugout to see what was taking him so long and caught him casually chatting with his teammates. He wasn’t even kind-of getting his stuff together. He was just STANDING THERE, twirling his batting gloves around like he had absolutely nowhere to be! Meanwhile, I was outside getting WET!

Me: So, what did you do?

Hubbit: I screamed like a banshee, “FLEA, get out here…NOW”. His teammates and coaches probably think I’m horrible.

Me: Nice.

Hubbit: Come to think of it, not only do the coaches likely think I’m horrible but it’s VERY likely the grandparents in the parking lot who heard me call you a “moron” think so too.

Me: (giggle) Just think of it this way. Maybe one day we'll win an Oscar for our roles as members of “that” family?

Whitney

If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.(George Bernard Shaw)

Life Lesson #421: Never Take A Pee Break While Cooking

I have always believed in soul mates and still to this day feel like God brought Hubbit and I together in the most intentional-to-Him but random-to-us way. I could not ask for a better husband. Seriously, he’s as good as they get. After all, being married to me can challenge even the greatest man, as I tend to Samba on his last nerve at least a few times a week.

Of course, don’t get me wrong. Before I have another Single-White-Female movie scene on my hands, I want to be clear. Our life is not perfect. You may THINK I’m joking about the SWF thing, but last August I learned two important lessons in life:

1) I'm not the only chica who thinks Hubbit is a great catch.
2) There are people out there floating around this world who are crazier than me. Imagine that.

Anyhow, before anyone starts gagging, you should know that we do fight…”sometimes”. And, for those of you who know me well, if it’s only “sometimes”, then he truly is my perfect match! ;)

In any case, over the years I’ve managed to figure out many reasons God brought me Hubbit. But, the one that stands out consistently is the fact I have a really bad habit of accidentally-almost setting things on fire.

Me: Accidental Firebug
Hubbit: Valiant Fireman

Taaa...daaa.

In our first five years together, our near-catastrophes involving fire were basically limited to exploding jar candles I’d forgotten I’d lit hours and hours before or metal-in-the-microwave-fires (Who would think the old Little Caesar’s breadstick paper was actually metal?! I would have sworn it was just cheap silver paper…giggle). As life progressed and I started graduating from the idea that a $5 discount pizza couldn’t really be considered a home cooked meal, things got a little trickier.

How?

I started cooking!

Thankfully, Hubbit is forever on guard with a towel to fan the smoke detector, a lid to squash a stove fire or a fire extinguisher when things go haywire. Due to his diligence, we’ve never had a terrible tragedy, even though for some unknown and unintentional reason, I am bound and determined to set SOMETHING on fire.

In fact, he never even gets angry at me for nearly killing us all and destroying our property. Even when he was forced to repaint the ceiling due to flames reaching up to it after a candle mishap, he never made one disgruntled comment.

Until…

I almost set the hotel in NYC on fire…the SECOND time. Apparently, being woken up to a smoke filled hotel suite, by a far-louder-than-it-should-have-been-in-my-pyromaniac-opinion smoke detector, wasn’t his idea of a relaxing vacation.

The first morning, in true fireman style, he SILENTLY jumped out of a bed at record speed, opened the windows and started fanning the smoke detector until it stopped chirping.

But, apparently going through the EXACT same thing the NEXT morning was enough to aggravate him and not only did he repeat the previous day’s actions like he was living in some insane Groundhog’s Day movie plot, but he also had a few choice words for me.

Who knew? :)

In any case, I learned a few very important lessons…

1)Even though the bathroom might be less than three feet away from the stove, it’s not a good idea to leave sausage cooking on high heat, unattended, while you take a quick “pee break”.

AND

2) If you wake your fireman Hubbit up two mornings in a row to a smoke alarm, while he’s on vacation away from the firehouse, the smoke detector won’t be the only annoying sound you’ll be forced to listen to.


Whitney


How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being. ~Oscar Wilde

I'm Back Witches!! :)

WARNING: In the following VERY LONG blog, there will be typos/grammar issues/things that don't matter to me at this late hour.

It’s been about a million years since I’ve actually sat down and took the time to write “for fun”. So, the few of you who actually follow my blog might have been waiting, anticipating and expecting something fantastically funny or ridiculous.

Sadly...I’m likely to disappoint.

While my life is normally full of hysterical nonsense, the past week or two has been so hectic we’ve all been pretty much walking a straight line, just trying to get by.

What have we been up to?

Well, the most exciting adventure was our Spring Break trip to New York City. We’d been planning it for several months and were super excited to see something other than the beach. Until…we realize we were going someone other than the beach!

That realization occurred when we were about six hours along on our driving route when all of a sudden the temperature drops 20 degrees and we start to see three foot piles of SNOW on the sides of the road. This is the moment when Hubbit and I began to look at each other, silently asking one another:

Why in God’s name are we NOT headed toward sunshine, island music and the gentle sounds of waves crashing outside our hotel window?!

In any case, NYC was full of lessons…

What did I learn while traveling to NYC?

1) You’ve not experienced crazy driving until you’ve stepped foot in Sharir Omad’s Yellow Cab. I THOUGHT I’d experienced riding with a crazy driver. The Lexington firefighters so blessed to ride with Hubbit THOUGHT they’d experienced riding with a crazy driver. My mother, who seriously threatened to get out in the middle of nowhere on the highway 700 miles from home one year while on vacation with us when Hubbit was driving, THOUGHT she’d ridden with a crazy driver. But, while Hubbit can scare even the calmest man into holding the “Oh Crap” handle on the car interior roof, he’s NOTHING compared to NYC cab drivers.

The cab drivers in NYC are ridiculous. They are on the fastest stop-go-race of
their lives and whoever jumps in their cab gets to go along for the wacky ride!

The process:

* Jump in the cab.
* Cab driver asks you to buckle up for “safety” (Heh!) and then proceeds to go from 0-to-80 in the blink of an eye.
* Cab driver comes upon a yellow light and SLAMS ON BRAKES.
* You go flying forward, only to be jerked back due to the “wise” cab driver’s request for you to wear your seat belt.
* The light turns green and process continues, over and over again, until you reach your destination.

On the first ride you start to think about suing the cabbie for whip lash…until you realize it would be a waste of precious energy, as they tell you they only plan to be in the US for three weeks and are just trying to earn a little cash while here.

Question: How come it takes the average 16 year old 8-12 months these days to get their license but someone staying in the US for only three weeks not only has a license but also a job where they’re responsible for driving others around, as well? Things that make you go hmmm….

2) Times Square is a big fat joke. Those of you who “love” Times Square can “kiss it” because it literally made me want to stab myself. In the eye. Willingly. Not only is the noise and crowded pathways insanely annoying, but why? WHY?! Would a geographic area which hosts over 26 MILLION tourists each year have a McDonald’s featuring a ONE STALL bathroom? Ridiculous. Standing in line for 20 minutes to go to the restroom at McDonald’s after paying $32 for three cheeseburgers, two fries, two sodas and a water? I guess the concept of the Value Meal is lost on New Yorkers.

Interestingly enough, our bus tour guide kept pointing out the exact location a suitcase full of dynamite was found six months ago, placed there by someone who tried to blow up Times Square, but was unsuccessful. Everyone on the bus looked at it with shock and surprise, except me.

While my fellow bus riding tourists were saying...

“Oh. Em. Gee. I don’t understand how could anyone could want to blow up Times Square?!”

I was mouthing to Hubbit…

“Apparently he’d been here a time or two…”

* It’s a JOKE people. Don’t freak out.

3) Never agree to take the stairs when you don’t know how many flights you’ll have to take to reach your destination.

It’s interesting how traveling can bring out certain qualities in people. Bug has always been terrified of heights and particularly of massive staircases where you can glance over the rail and see all the way down to the bottom level. Thus, he’s usually just fine and dandy with taking the elevator. However, in NYC elevators are about the size of an airplane bathroom, which was quite a shock to Bug. In fact, it was such a shock he threw a total fit and convinced Hubbit to walk 24 FLIGHTS OF STAIRS to our hotel suite on the first day we got there.

Now, I hate elevators too. In fact, I once convinced Hubbit to walk 12 flights of stairs with me at the Patterson Office Tower at UK instead of taking their Zero-to-60-in-2.1-seconds-elevators. However, that was when I was much younger and I’ll be darned if I was going to try to hike up 24 flights of stairs. Especially on vacation! Needless to say, they got to about floor 5 and they grabbed an elevator the rest of the way up. I’m a chick who’s afraid of lots of things. I mean LOTS. However, I’m a firm believer when the will to accomplish something becomes stronger than the fear itself, the fear disappears completely and you’ll do anything to get what you want. In this case, the will to NOT have a heart attack from walking up one million stairs became stronger than the fear of riding the elevator and Bug became willing to do anything to stop climbing those stairs.

You’d think we’d learned a lesson from this. But, NOPE.

The next evening we decided to head back to Times Square for a second time to hit up the wax museum (which was honestly a blast). To get to the starting point of the museum’s self-guided tour, we were told we had to take an elevator. Confident Bug had learned his lesson about climbing stairs, we got in line. But, as soon as the elevator’s doors opened and we started to climb inside, Bug started freaking out. He was in a total panic, crying and absolutely unwilling to step even one foot into what he saw as a chamber of uncertainty.

So, what do us fools do? Oh, we say…we’ll just take the stairs.

Willing to satisfy our every request as she was trained to do, the customer service employee asked us to follow her. We entered into a staircase and began climbing. And climbing. And climbing. About four flights into the climb of complete silence, we start slowing down, disabled by the huffing, puffing and panting our bodies are showcasing.

At floor 6, I thought I was going to absolutely die and asked…

“How many flights are we actually climbing?”

The sweet rotund guide answered…

“Nine.”

GEEZ.

We made it to the ninth floor, collapsed in a family pile under an oddly beautiful wax figure display of Ru Paul dressed as a mermaid-he-she-not-sure-but-fascinating-none-the-less and vowed to never…EVER…agree to take the stairs again without knowing exactly how far we’d be traveling. Because, I’d bet if the girl had just told us how far we’d had to climb when we were at the elevator, Bug’s will to accomplish that elevator would have been bigger than his fear…OR…quite possibly I would have thrown him over my shoulder, carried him into the steel box of luxury and listened to him whine for the short 7 seconds until we comfortably arrived on Floor 9.

I could go on and on with little silly stories about NYC but it’s 1am and I still have about ten things on my To-Do list for today…well…now yesterday…I’m clearly not going to get done.

The funny thing is, while the city brought out the absolute WORST in my personality and I pretty much complained from the moment we arrived until we were out of New Jersey on our way home, there were definitely moments of beauty within the city and our trip.

There’s absolutely nothing that can compare to seeing Lady Liberty, strolling through the amazingly beautiful Central Park or seeing how happy our kids were to have amazing seats at Yankee Stadium.

But, no matter what bargaining I have to do or promises I have to make...next year we’re going to THE BEACH. :)

Whitney

“Travel is only glamorous in retrospect.” (Paul Theroux)