From the batcave

Once I moved my entire life down here (i.e. work, blogging, etc), I thought that it would help me to focus.  HOWEVER… I don’t feel very focused.  I’ve been playing around on the Internet for um…2 hours now and worked for 30 seconds.  *sighs*

Our open house yesterday yielded NO activity, but I did come home from the waterpark with a newfound respect for the sun (ouch ouch) and screaming calves that are mad at me for schlepping up the hills (waterpark is at a ski resort) on hour-long lines so I could scream for 30 seconds and I plummetted down the squiggly chutes on a rubber tube.

And, I survived.  But, my legs are PISSED off at me… they don’t like hills… and they definitely don’t like hills barefooted.  So, by Wednesday, they should be less angry at me and a little more sedate.

My sunburn doesn’t hurt as much as my frustration… we are once again the ONLY house in the price bracket we’re in.  We haven’t dropped our price since we took on the new realtor.  Other people have dropped… way WAY low.  Like, 20-50 THOUSAND lower.  I’m not willing to do that.  And, I don’t think that by dropping the price of my house anymore will ensure a sale.  I think it’ll just prolong this real estate agony.

So, I’ve come to (another) conclusion… let it be.  It’ll sell WHEN it sells.  But, I will not freak out and drop the price of my house out of desperation.  It just frustrates me b/c my middle son is going to be a sophomore.  I’d hate to pull him out during his junior year… or, his senior year.

I’m tired of power cleaning for no one.  I like my house clean, don’t get me wrong, but scrubbing baseboards and corners of floors when no one comes… well, its a pain in my ass, to be honest.  If you’ve ever tried to sell a house, it’s a big pain in the ass… always be clean, always be willing for people to trapse through your house at any time between 9am and 7pm.  To play the game, of which I don’t play well.  I hate games.  Games are for babies.  You want to make a deal, then MAKE one.  Don’t play like you don’t like me, my house, my whatever.  You either do or don’t.  Either way, it is what it is.

So, back to yesterday.

We went to a waterpark at a ski resort… where the hills are STEEP, the lines long, and the people rude.

Any of the amusement parks in NJ are frequented by city people (most specifically NYC).  They are rude, disrespectful, and are totally unaware of their surroundings.  For instance, and this has happened in several different venues, not just this one… yesterday, I have #3 son w/ me in the wave pool.  It is a hot day, so there are about a hundred people in here… and men, in their 30s, are doggie paddling… and struggling to swim (in 2.5 foot water with waves), and nearly drown my kid.  I got FUCKING angry, let me tell you… and I said something like, “Be a goddamn man, learn to fucking swim you asshole.”

I don’t think #3 son heard my exact words, he was too busy jumping waves in his little life jacket.

Then, we get hit by a wall of teenage boys who are throwing each other around. The first time, I just grabbed one of them and told him to knock it off.  The SECOND time, I grabbed #3 son and went right in the middle of their little testosterone-fest and ripped  them a new asshole… collectively.  “Watch out, you guys, you have little kids swimming here.”  ALL of their eyes grew to the size of frisbees.  “MY kid is swimming here, and I have sons YOUR AGES, so I “get it”, but just be careful.”  They all dropped their heads and yes ma’am’d me.  Five minutes later, they were back to tackling each other.  And, being one in a pool of a hundred or more makes it hard to motion to the lifeguards.  So, we moved (body pushed through a wall of shit-for-brains) over so we were far enough away from them, but then found ourselves in a pile of people who couldn’t swim IN 3 FOOT WATER (people taller than me, and I’m 5′5-1/2″), grasping to standing people because apparently, the rumor is true… you CAN drown in 1 inch of water.  Fortunately for them, NONE of them did.

Which brings me back around to this point: if you CAN”T swim, then WHY are you in the wave pool? 

Oh, someone must’ve heard me… because I did see a 6-foot something man who outweighed me by a bit, wearing a large kiddie lifevest… and was doggie paddling in the 3 foot water.

Seriously?  I wish I had a camera with me.  I so wish I had one.  I would share that image with the world… and make him the poster child for REASONS TO LEARN HOW TO SWIM.

Yes, I spent the first 9 years of my life living in an urban-suburban civilization… and didn’t learn to swim until I was 9 or 10.  BUT, you wouldn’t find me doggie paddling in water if I couldn’t stand.  And, where I could stand, I would… stand.  NOT act like a retarded monkey.

Needless to say, #3 son caught THAT vision of manliness and said, “Mommy, he looks silly.”

Yeah, ok.  Silly isn’t what I was thinking, but whatever.

And, yes, that’s mean.  I do have to give him credit, though.  At least he had a vest on.  (*coughs*doggypaddlingdork*coughs*)

 I had to dodge water shoes, and bathingsuit parts.  I had been staring at the tramp stamp circus for the past 5 hours, people who throw papertowels on the floor of bathrooms instead of in the pail merely a foot or less away, other people who throw their trash on the GROUND instead of the garbage, other people who act like shitheads (all day long), and a parade of hormone driven 12 year olds.  I was more or less at my edge of reason… and tired of people being oblivious ALL GODDAMN DAY LONG.  So, I did mouth off to a few people… but, none of it resulted in a fight or altercation.

Damn. 

I am quite proud of myself AND #3 son.  He went down (face first) on a mat slide… TWICE.  I was surprised that he would do it as it was HIGH and fast… and last year, I had to bribe him to get on the kiddie rollercoaster (or any ride for that matter)… this year, he’s outdoing me.

I’m competitive.  Maybe I’m TOO competitive at times.  It’s almost unhealthy the levels I’m willing to go to when I want to beat someone at something.  It’s sick.  But, it’s me.

I see my kid go up on a tube ride and think, “Shit, he’s 6 and can do it.  I’m gonna do it, too!”

Ok, I hate heights.  Its not news.  It is something that I deal with.  Granted, sometimes heights do not bother me, it just depends on where I am at the time.  On a 4-story stack of stairs? No can do.  ON a steep hill?  Probably ok.

I climbed up this super steep hill… to do on a 4-person raft ride down a twisty, turny scarier than shit ride that dumps you into a pool of recycled water where lifeguards move you out like cattle.

I (acted) excited… and exclaimed that I’d do it.  I mean, I had just gone on this incredibly crazy single tube ride down a twisty, turny, scarier than shit water ride that dumped me into a pool of recycled water where lifeguards were ushering us out like cattle.  And, I was alone, (screaming like someone was trying to kill me) and wanted to try to go down with someone.

(#2 said he wouldn’t ride on the double tube w/ me because A. it is too slow, and B. he didn’t want me screaming in  his ear)

TOO FREAKING BAD. 

I can’t control the screaming.  I’d probably scream until I passed out had I been on a rollercoaster (or peed myself, lost my voice, THEN passed out).  Some people laugh… I scream. 

We climbed this hill… my husband, #2 an 3 sons (#1 was at SD’s house for a function) lugged ourselves up this steep, long, steep hill until we were finally on top (a mere few hundred feet before the top ski lodge)… and I took a breath.

WHAT THE HELL WAS I ABOUT TO DO? 

My middle son REALLY thought I was going to back out.  I almost did, but then I realized that I’d have to walk DOWN the hill.  And, it was hot and I was getting tired of walking.  Plus, I didn’t wait an hour on a line to quit.

I climbed into the raft, made sure that #3 son was holding onto the straps, when the last thing I heard from the smiling female lifeguard was, “Have fun.”  She pushed us, and backwards, I plummetted down 5 stories of mountain hill and slippy, slide-y, twisty, turny tube hell.  I tried to look behind me TWICE, and each time I regretted it.  All I saw were hills… curves… sheer death.

The first time we went up the wall (on the side), I grabbed #3 son with one hand and the raft with the other.  I did not let go of that child until the lifeguard tried to prybar me out of the raft.  I think I dented the raft by grabbing it so hard.  I think that’s why my forearms ache today.  My grip of death was too much for my poor muscles to withstand.

Yet, I did survive.  And, it was fun.  (#3 son said I can’t sit next to him anymore because I scream too loudly.) 

Fun like, if I were on the edge of death and survived type fun.

Needless to say, there’s no pleasing #2 son.  I go on TWO big rides (once by myself and once with the family) and I get, “You scream a lot,” and “Well, you didn’t go on the CRAZY ride.”

The CRAZY ride is this: you are flat on your back, and go down this vertical chute, into a funnel and are dumped into a pool of recycled water where a lifeguard is there to chase you out so no one comes down and lands on your head.

I don’t go anywhere face first (the big tube where I went down backwards was not a part of the plane).  I have this thing about needed to go feet first.  Maybe its boater’s safety that I took as a teenager.  If you go down the rapids and fall out of the raft, make sure to go feet first.  Ever since then, I have this weird adversion to going ANYWHERE face first.  I think I would definitely die on that ride.  My heart would explode and I’d drown.

And, I’m a good swimmer.  So, drowning scares me. 

Then, I watched #3 son race his dad and brother down this BIG MAT SLIDE… where he went down face first.  At that point, we’d been there about 6 hours and I couldn’t walk uphill anymore.  Barefoot.  On pavers and gravel.  Moreorless, I had joined a herd of people who walked funny.  We all hobbled out to the shuttle bus, then to our car, and I when I climbed in, I had this shot of pain followed by an EXTREMELY loud sigh of relief.

But, before that, we had to get out of our bathingsuits for the hour-plus ride home.

Let me reiterate how disgusting I find most public bathrooms.  I’ve complained about those in Walmart (especially), various fast-food chains, gas stations (when VERY desperate), and other facilities, but I don’t know if I’ve touched on the grossness of the public changing area at a waterpark.

Here’s what I observed:

1. People with no modesty will change ANYWHERE regardless of what they look like
2. they will also deal with their feminine issues without the courtesy of a door, and then discard things without using a garbage pail
3. the water from the “showers” is almost always slimy and grimy and will cause you to slip in flipflops and fall on your ass after you’ve gotten changed into dry clothes
4. the changing rooms will have a bench the side of a child’s hand an a broken hook… causing you to have to balance the bag, towel and other items while trying to put on clean clothes
5. Some little kid will open the curtain to your booth and ask if you’re his mommy
6. Your naked ass WILL get exposed when said little kid seeks mommy (who is standing by the door, calling his name)
7. Someone WILL pee in the changing room, and leave it for you to step in
8. No one knows what a garbage pail is for
9. Dryheaving means you are weak
10. Tramp stamps are equivalent to discount tickets at a fastfood joint… everyone can get them, but not everyone wants to

Next time, I’ll take my chances in the bathroom… where I usually get changed.  Bleh.

I did drum up a mini-convo with two 20-somethings on the bus.  I recognized the girl’s tee as one students at the university that I taught at last fall wore.   (I’m so observant)  I smelled like baby pool, and was sweating my pahdooper off in this standing room only mini bus (fyi, I had two bags and NO man stood up to exchange with me, but the college kid did give up his seat for two little girls, which I thought was admirable)… and at that point, driving up hill while holding onto a metal bar proved to me one thing:  I am not strap-hanger material.  You can tell that I have minimal contact with public transportation.  I drive my own truck.  I don’t carpool (I work 4 miles from my house).  I don’t ride a bus, subway, or in a taxi unless I’m in a city.  (We don’t have them newfangled transportations here in suburbia.)

My forearm muscles hurt.  My calves are burning.  My back muscles are screaming.  My sunburnt skin is the only thing that doesn’t really bother me.  Even my scalp hurts.  And, I’m pretty sure I contracted some rare germ from being in that water yesterday… because today, my voice is super raspy and I sound like an 80 year old chain-smoker.

hehe

And, even though no one came to see my house, I had fun.  A LOT of fun.  So much so that I want to go BACK again soon.  This time, to be sure, I’ll be wearing my watershoes the ENTIRE time.  Yep.  That’s for sure.