Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire


Last week. The whole hives thing.

This week.


What is wrong with me????

No. Seriously, I might have a sun allergy.

Or better yet. I might be evolving into an Albino.

For. Real.

Yesterday afternoon, I took the kidlets to the park. They had SO much fun and while they were having fun, I per yesterdays blog I planned the next weeks menu.

They were in the sun for two hours! Actually a little bit more. And made all of these friends. And dug in the sand. And loved it.

Fantastic Experience.

But. Can I just remind you that I said, they were in the sun for TWO hours.


And I get Mommy of the Year Award because I forgot Sunscreen. Yep. 100% forgot it.

In my weak, very weak defense, it was cloudy when we left the house, and in the back of my mind I was thinking it was already in the car.

It wasn't.

So. There my children are, out in the sun, exposed to the elements and we leave the park and nothing.

Maybe they're a little darker.

Maybe. Like, maybe a shade.

I thought for sure Scarlett would be roasted like a pig. Sister is a little bit on the pasty side.

Stella has amazing skin tone and can handle it.

I was never really worried about her.

And for sure I was never worried about me!

And not because I think I can handle the sun. That's not why. I grew up being a firm believer that every good tan starts with a good burn. But not so anymore.

First. I burn way too easily to want to spend my summers in misery. Burn. Tan. Burn. Tan. Burn. Tan. It sounds exhausting.

Second. This family catches cancer like most people catch seasonal colds. I can't sit around waiting for a big hairy mole to pop up! Besides, I have enough cosmetic issues.

And Third. When I was in Sri Lanka. I had an issue with getting burned. Like, I never did it on purpose. Ever. But sometimes, I don't know, I would like fall asleep in the sun at the beach or whatever and wake up in a colony of lobsters. And there was this surfer there doing work with us, Matt Beachum. After one such days of lounging at Una Wa Tuna and coming home more Crimson than Caucasian, we were sitting in a circle waiting for Bible Study to start, the whole group of us, and he says to me from across the circle of listening ears, "Rachel, you have got to stop burning yourself. You look like Tupperware!!"

Not exactly the whole look I like to go for.


But now. Every time I'm in the sun, every single time, I think, where's the SPF 100? I don't want to look like Tupperware.

But yesterday should not have really been Cause for Crispy. Ok. I was not even really in the sun. I had the baby! I was hanging out in the shaded picnic table area for the most part.

Yet, here I stand today.


Dang it.

And Zach says to me, "Rachel, I've heard sunburn totally brings back hives."

I kind of about killed him.

Good thing I'm still on the Roids.

Seriously. Good thing. Because after Stella's hair cut this morning. Ok, it was a trim, and I can barely tell the difference, so I was ok with it... And so was Miss-Aspiring-Repunzel. I dropped the girlies off with their Nana, grabbed my little man, and a 44 oz. Fountain Pop (Holla!) and came home to quiet.




And hours and hours of scheduled work ahead of me.

Well, I don't know about hours and hours, but lots of time to focus.

Thank the Lord for Nanas.

God's wisdom far supersedes my own. Far. Far above my own. His ways are not my ways. And His thoughts are not mine.

But I know this.

When God created mankind. He created Nana's with a very special, almost miraculous purpose.

So. I've got my Mellow Chic Music on, full of teenage angst and break-ups and pain and sorrow and I feel inspired.

Seriously. It's Christina Perri Pandora.

It doesn't get better for high school romances and drama.

Trust me.

I have a bag of candy-coated and stale popcorn next to me, with a handful of Reeses Pieces, left over from Star Wars Movie Night. (Miriah, that cannot possibly make you hate the food mention! It's borderline homeless food....)

And I am ready.

Or maybe instead of writing I will clean my house in record time.

Without kids, I bet I could get the whole thing done in like an hour and a half.


Floors and bathrooms and all.

Or maybe. Just maybe. I won't do anything. I will stare at my precious little man rolling all over this floor and enjoy the silence.

Or maybe. I will just continue to waste time by dragging out this blog...

Yep. I'm thinking the latter!

Jk. I've got work to do! And I have to have dinner ready on time tonight because Zach has a Bachelors Party to attend this evening.

Oh. Lord.

Be expecting a full report on that tomorrow.

Oh. Good. Lord.

And the crazy thing is, this rite of passage for the groom is going to be so out of control I almost wish they were just going to a strip club.


Or. Ok. I don't.

But. Boys. Oh. My.

They will be boys, right?

What happens when boys will be boys with enough plaster for a full body cast and enough alcohol to send them all to the ER?

I guess. We will find out.


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