Yeah, I know
I am not a good outdoor person. Not at all. I LOVE to camp but I can't stand the thought of laying on the ground... I am more of the Pampered type camper, if you will. I have to force myself on occasion to do more outdoor type things for Emily's sake. She is definitely an outdoors type person. Even as a baby she loved the fresh air and slept soundly in my arms in the Texas heat while I swang her out on our patio. Anyway, her and I were invited to go to the beach with friends. Sarah has a little boy Zach just a couple months younger than Em and Frannie has a boy Damien a couple months older than Em (Not to mention the little beaner in her belly)... These are Em's buds... they boys, her best friends. So, I get up early and do the whole getting ready for the beach thing... thinking the whole time what a pain in the ass it is to do it all by myself as it takes nearly an hour just to get everything ready. You need allot of crap to go to the beach with a kid. Sarah and I talked about this yesterday. Everything requires a plan. EVERYTHING. You just can't go any place without developing your "How to" plan. Even something as simple as going to the grocery store. (Which isn't so simple anymore more with a toddler)... I planned all the "what if's" people. Food, drink, fresh water for yucky diapers, sun block, towels, shirts, wipes, diapers, toys, chairs... Let's just leave it at that for now and get on with the rest of the story....
Em likes the beach but does not swim in the water... normally. Yesterday she swam in the water... Mommy did not PLAN for that and didn't bring any safety vests for her to swim with. Mommy was a nervous wreck the whole time. Then Em decided during her water adventures that since it was low tide she would take a venture further out and play. Have I ever mentioned that I have a HUGE fear of water. LIKE, A BIG ASS CAN'T STAND THE FUCKING WATER FEAR? Emily takes my hand and starts tugging on me to venture out past my safe comfort zone getting my ankles wet area. Just thinking about it is making my stomach get in knots. Here I am with my two year old daughter whom is happily skipping, jumping, splashing in the water and I am making statements to her like " I hope you know I am having a heart attack, Mommy must love you allot because Mommy is on the verge of having a break down, Emmy, do you see those fish, maybe we should leave, Mommy is going to vomit, Mommy can't breathe, This is Daddy's job, not Mommy's"... You get the picture. Every cell in my body was telling me to leave, to get the fuck out of the there.... The part of my brain though that realizes I am a mother took total control and forced me against my will to stay with my child. That Mommy force is pretty fucking strong, let me tell you... it was the only thing allowing me not to pass out and die.
So, getting back to the planning thing.... The day is done, I have survived having my knees touch the water... I get Em into the Jeep, start taking off her nasty wet diaper... Then... "What the fuck is all over your leg?" I call Frannie over in a panic... she doesn't know, seems to be a bite of some kind... I call Sarah over in even more of a panic... She doesn't know.... My daughter has three big red bites on her leg and I am ready to shit myself. All I can think of is how Keith makes me watch those fucking Discover Channel shows and I how I remembered people dying from a very small jelly fish bite that was very poisonous. Can you say Panic, can you say I fucking spazed out? Yes, people I did. I practically throw Em in her car seat.... drive like a fucking manic to the hospital and call Keith... I left him lovely messages upon him not answering his phone like " I fucking wish you would carry your fucking cell phone with you".... He mets me in Triage... He realizes Em is indeed breathing fine... I am however not. We see somebody at the hospital and they are not sure of course what exactly bit Em but they assure me that if it was anything poisonous that we would have seen the effect of that already. Okay Julie, breathe.... Breathe...
Let's just say that I will be planning our trips to the beach even more so. I will be packing a fucking first aide kit that includes Benadryl, insect bite shit, motrin, and what ever the hell else I think I might need....
Yes, I am freak....
Em likes the beach but does not swim in the water... normally. Yesterday she swam in the water... Mommy did not PLAN for that and didn't bring any safety vests for her to swim with. Mommy was a nervous wreck the whole time. Then Em decided during her water adventures that since it was low tide she would take a venture further out and play. Have I ever mentioned that I have a HUGE fear of water. LIKE, A BIG ASS CAN'T STAND THE FUCKING WATER FEAR? Emily takes my hand and starts tugging on me to venture out past my safe comfort zone getting my ankles wet area. Just thinking about it is making my stomach get in knots. Here I am with my two year old daughter whom is happily skipping, jumping, splashing in the water and I am making statements to her like " I hope you know I am having a heart attack, Mommy must love you allot because Mommy is on the verge of having a break down, Emmy, do you see those fish, maybe we should leave, Mommy is going to vomit, Mommy can't breathe, This is Daddy's job, not Mommy's"... You get the picture. Every cell in my body was telling me to leave, to get the fuck out of the there.... The part of my brain though that realizes I am a mother took total control and forced me against my will to stay with my child. That Mommy force is pretty fucking strong, let me tell you... it was the only thing allowing me not to pass out and die.
So, getting back to the planning thing.... The day is done, I have survived having my knees touch the water... I get Em into the Jeep, start taking off her nasty wet diaper... Then... "What the fuck is all over your leg?" I call Frannie over in a panic... she doesn't know, seems to be a bite of some kind... I call Sarah over in even more of a panic... She doesn't know.... My daughter has three big red bites on her leg and I am ready to shit myself. All I can think of is how Keith makes me watch those fucking Discover Channel shows and I how I remembered people dying from a very small jelly fish bite that was very poisonous. Can you say Panic, can you say I fucking spazed out? Yes, people I did. I practically throw Em in her car seat.... drive like a fucking manic to the hospital and call Keith... I left him lovely messages upon him not answering his phone like " I fucking wish you would carry your fucking cell phone with you".... He mets me in Triage... He realizes Em is indeed breathing fine... I am however not. We see somebody at the hospital and they are not sure of course what exactly bit Em but they assure me that if it was anything poisonous that we would have seen the effect of that already. Okay Julie, breathe.... Breathe...
Let's just say that I will be planning our trips to the beach even more so. I will be packing a fucking first aide kit that includes Benadryl, insect bite shit, motrin, and what ever the hell else I think I might need....
Yes, I am freak....