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Jul 272010
While we were camping last week, I read five books. Apparently if you take away my Internet connection, I can blast through the pages like a madwoman. It was great to get back into my first love of reading. I read all year, but I love to throw down books so quickly.
I had a wide and varied library with me, but chose to dabble a bit in romance since I read romance novels so infrequently.
Now I remember why!
To boot, pun intended, these two romance novels were… wait for it… FIREFIGHTER ROMANCE NOVELS. Win.
The first was The Firefighter’s Secret Baby
Kind of lacking in the realism factor. But that’s okay. What’s not okay, however, is the crazy sex the main female was having less than a week after a traumatic birth experience. I laughed. A lot. Not at the cheesiness of the writing (which, yes, it was still cheesy), but at the thought that any woman could read that section and possibly think that sex so shortly after birth would feel that good. Also? No mention of the breastmilk that was likely pouring at that point since she wasn’t nursing the baby. I had a good laugh.
This book was part of the Atlanta Heroes series… and, sadly, I want more to be available already.
As an aside, thank you to Denise, sassymonkey and Elizabeth for signing the book before sending it to me. That sentence is brought to you with a side of cheese. (Ha!)
The second was an accidental find at the library right before we left for camp. Island Sojourn
This particular book was somewhat more believable than the previous one. It involves a lot of sisters, a beach house and shenanigans pulled by said sisters to get the younger sister someone to date. And marry. I kind of resented the fact that they were pushing her to date and marry just like them. Maybe she wanted to be single! Maybe she wasn’t interested in men! Maybe she was seeing someone on the sly back home! Get off her back, nosy sisters! But, as it always does, it worked out in the end.
This book had a great fire scene… until they sent the man in to make sure that she was okay. Granted, she ran in without a mask or any gear, which was silly. And she probably did need some rescuing. But I kind of resent the “let’s rescue women” theme in romance novels.
In the end, I kind of enjoyed both reads more than I wanted to. FireDad had a great time making fun of me any time he saw me reading either book. I would have made fun of me as well.
If you know of a firefighter book, romance or not, that I need to be reading, please let me know!
Jul 262010
Warning: Picture heavy.
We’re home. We’re kind of exhausted. LittleBrother is sick. BigBrother is way grumpy, and I’m even more behind on work than he is grumpy. But we’re home. And we had a blast.
There were highlights: no trips to the emergency room this year, family coming in from all over, ice cream in the evening and sleeping in later and later as the exhaustion set in near the end of camp. There were lowlights: getting on one anothers’ nerves due to small space, the bell waking us up at 7:00 every morning in the earlier part of the week, the CRAZY HOT HEAT OF DOOM. But the highlights far outweigh the lowlights.
Like cousins.
And more cousins. (There were lots more.)
And the sound of thunder rolling down the hill into the valley.
And foam, light-up swords that don’t hurt when you bonk your brother in the head.
And perfectly blown bubbles by Daddy.
And a moment when LittleBrother didn’t realize I was in his classroom.
And my cousin totally being an awesome little girl.
And, yes, more ice cream. Way after bedtime.
And getting to see their program even though I thought I wouldn’t get to.
And this.
And this.
And this.
And us.
And about 600 some other pictures of highlights, plus the ones, like snuggling in bed with one boy or another, that weren’t caught by my ever-present camera. (Though, except for the bubble picture, all of these were taken in extreme heat. Apparently you take the good with the bad.) I left camp feeling both rejuvenated and exhausted. We’re trying to find our back-at-home groove, and I suppose we’ll find it just in time for me to head off to BlogHer ’10. And then we’ll find it just in time to go on our annual beach vacation. And then preschool starts the day after we get home.
That means, as of now, we have begun the slippery slope toward the end of our summer. Wow.
Jul 222010
As I mentioned yesterday, LittleBrother has been experiencing his first-ever “class” scenario. It’s an hour and a half of songs, stories and crafts. And other kids.
The latter being the kicker.
LittleBrother is a social dude. His “awkward-hide-behind-Mommy’s-skirt” phase pales in comparison to how BigBrother refused to socialize at the same age. He likes other people, especially other kids. But his interaction with large numbers of other children are limited to an hour at the YMCA (er, “The Y”) child care (seven kids max). Even our church’s child care is limited in numbers right now. So while LittleBrother loves kids, he’s never really been in a setting where there were lots and lots of kids. (At the beginning of the week, one class featured 12 boys and 6 girls. Numbers have continued to rise as the week has gone on.)
Things have gone extremely well for both boys. Until yesterday.
Due to the size of the class, they have separated the kids by age when it comes time for crafts. The younger kids need more help and sit at one table, while the older kids who need less help sit at another table. This means that BigBrother and LittleBrother are, woe, separated. Of course, they’ll be separated by classrooms this fall in preschool, so it had to happen at some point. I’m not overly concerned, but I didn’t know how LittleBrother might respond. His brother has always been there, for better or worse. Back to craft time yesterday…
Someone spilled water on LittleBrother’s Toy Story sandals. Despite my repeated explanations that water doesn’t hurt, LittleBrother freaks out about spilled water. Especially on him. And apparently especially on his beloved sandals. So, he cried.
Now, remember, I’m not in class, too. The following happened organically.
BigBrother walked over to LittleBrother, took his cheeks in his hands (which we call “cheeky-cheeks”), gave him a hug and kiss and told him that it would be okay. And LittleBrother stopped crying.
Pardon me while I melt. And then pardon me while I attempt to figure out why they can’t act like that at home.
I am so, so, so, so glad they have each other. (And yes, I will remind them of this story forever.)
