This blog has no true theme. Sometimes it's a recipe book. Sometimes it's an obsessive aunt's video diary. Other times it resembles nothing more than a middle schooler's journal.
But I've decided to not care. More than anything, I want it to be something my nieces and nephews can read when they are older and learn about me, their family, and their lives when they were young.
So, with that said...here is the final Jersey post.
The untold stories of the Jersey Shore.
So, at our sub par Comfort Inn, Uncle Dave ended up sharing a suite (a suite!) with the boys. You'd think it would be a late night party and frat house atmosphere, right?
Wrong.
I went to check on the boys on Sunday morning and found the boys up, watching cartoons in the one room next to an empty pizza box and tipped over soda bottles. I asked where Uncle David was and they pointed to the door leading into the other room of the suite. "He's in there and he's not to be disturbed".
Oh my gosh. Though he has three sisters, Dave is by far the biggest prima donna of our family for sure:)
When we got the church, my sister's kids were given the opportunity to do a musical number. "I am a child of God". It was the four of them and our 8 year old cousin Emma. It started out rough and got worse from there. Only James sang the first verse. None of them knew the second or third verse. Although James gamely sang the first verse over and over. It was the most amazing musical number in my 33 years as a Mormon. And that's saying something.
The splat (or slop) pig incident was our biggest vacation meltdown. After 7 hours on the beach and boardwalk I made the wise decision to take Danielle's kids to an arcade. Which turned out to be half casino/half arcade. Elly won a pink squishy ball called a 'splat pig'. Within three minutes, the splat pig had exploded all over the arcade floor. Elly proceeded to have an exorcist like screaming and crying fit that lasted like 20 solid minutes. Until a kind stranger gave her enough tickets to get another one. That splat pig dream lives on.
And lastly, the sunscreen incident. On these trips we go on, it's always clear that Danielle is the mom. It's clear because: She has the mom muscles to carry any of them any length of distance if needed, she isn't having a raging fit meltdown with them after 10 minutes, she isn't saying 'yes' to every donut, pretzel, and candy they reach for, AND..she doesn't let them apply their own sunscreen. Which I did. Which led to James being labeled "the masked avenger" by my dad for the strange pattern of sunburn on his face.
So..the long, probably boring to people who weren't there, stories of the great Shore trip of 2013. May we have many more Shore stories to come!
Lori Ann