A behind-the-scenes 4th of July

Usually as a holiday approaches I feel compelled by some unseen force to cram happy memory making moments down the gullets of my dear family. This Fourth of July weekend was no different. Barbecue, fireworks, watermelon seed spitting contests, parades, picnics, perusal of local festivities . . . we were going to do it all and everyone was going to have a good time dangit, including myself.

As a mother, I somehow take it upon myself to create an environment rich with opportunities for my children to create their most treasured childhood memories. And since I never know which memory will be their first, or which activity will captivate them the most, I’ve got to throw in a little of everything just to cover all my crazy, perfectionist, delusional bases.

I must admit, the weekend was quite nice. A couple of my sisters were here. Bosco and Bubba were finally over round three of colds. The Husband had a day off work. I was on pain medication. I’m pretty sure we created some treasured moments for the kiddos and ourselves. I suppose only time can tell for sure though.

But as usual, these treasured moments got all jumbled up with a plethora of less than stellar moments. Some of them even heinous. Some of them even hilarious. C’est la vie n’est-ce pas?

So instead of sharing family pictures with everyone smiling, I think I’ll go another route and share with you a few of my pictures that probably won’t get framed. But they are worthwhile, nevertheless. It’s almost like you just received a backstage pass into my life. Talk about compelling blogging! Feast your eyes on all the nitty gritty:

Bosco snapped this beauty during the parade, right as I discovered that he had gotten his sneaky little hands on my camera. There are about a hundred pictures of the back of my head. I didn't know he knew a) how to turn on the camera b) take a picture c) zoom in real tight on all my imperfections.

 

During that same parade, a very tan and sweaty Tarzan spritzed himself all over with sunblock in a very provocative fashion. I would be lying if I told you I didn't laugh in his general direction, then scream when I saw the "creatures" crouching down around him. And to think I thought this was a family parade.

 

Curious to see what exactly a smoke ball was, we lit a few and soon found out that it was exactly as the name described. It was a ball, that when lit, gave off colored smoke. And when the ball rolls on its side, your driveway also gets colored . . . FOREVER.

 

Bosco was given the choice to stay up late and do some fireworks, or go to bed. He chose to go to bed. What the heck indeed. So it was just us mature folk that had fun with sparklers and other pyrotechnics. I can't remember what we were trying to spell but I assure you it wasn't OIL. This is not a political statement. Just a bunch of crazies with flaming sticks of silliness.

 

About an hour and half before this picture was taken, we were all sitting on a grassy field enjoying a spectacular fireworks display. Then they stopped, but I assured everyone that it wasn't over yet. The Husband was anxious about traffic and started to pack up and head to the car despite my warnings. The minute we got back to the car the fireworks resumed. Yes, I was right again. And yes this happened last year as well. Cut to an hour later, we are still in the car, in traffic, and Bubba has now started to cry. Oh I forgot to tell you that our house is only about five miles from where we were watching the fireworks. The Husband mumbled something about this being his own personal hell. Cue camera. Click.

 

With all the fun to be had, Bosco missed some naps over the weekend. This of course led to a few beast-like transformations. Nothing that couldn't be fixed with some quick shut-eye and drooling in the car. And before all you safety monitors berate me, I know part of his seat belt is off. I am well aware. And it is beyond aggravating that he keeps doing it, especially when I'm catching up on my own Zzzzzs and not noticing until we have reached our destination. What can I say. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. I think that applies here somewhat.

And that my friends is a behind-the-scenes 4th of July. Tomorrow I will captivate you with Tales from the Chiropractor.