Homestead Hobo






We were kicking back at the Homestead this past week. Yes, again. But before you make any assumptions that we must have won the lottery or cured cancer, let me explain. We’re not quite “hobos” either, but we have absolutely no business being at the Homestead as often as we are — or at all, ever. The crucial fact is that we are fortunate to have an extremely generous friend with a time share there. And she sure does share her time with us lucky folk.

This time was a whole new experience because I could FINALLY put Sam into the Kids Club and get a full-fledged break, which is what vacation is supposed to be all about! (Kids apparently never got the memo on how vacations are supposed to work.) The Kids Club always seemed like a mirage in the desert to us because we’d never been able to use it before now. First the problem was that Sam wasn’t three. Then when he turned three, the hang-up was that he wasn’t potty trained. Now we finally have achieved the winning combo — he is both three and fully housebroken (for the most part, give or take lots of accidents here and there). We had reached the milestone – we were good to go. Yahoo!

And let me tell you, it was bliss. Bliss, I tell you! I only had him in there from 9-12 one morning, but it made the trip. Daddy Mac wasn’t there, poor buy, because he had to work and subsidize our lifestyle. However, he was kind enough to send champagne on our anniversary, complete with chocolate milk for the Saminator. Yes, I am a lucky girl. The whole Homestead was quite quiet because school has not let out yet, so Sam was the only kid in there, which was pretty funny but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he had not one adult supervising him but TWO! Man, that kid has no idea how good he has it! I won’t digress into all the miles I had to walk to school through massive snowdrifts of course, but really.

However, it was also the first time he was ready and willing to sleep in one of the big beds, all of which are VERY high off the ground. I relented of course but was dreading hearing a big huge CLUNK in the middle of the night. So I fenced him in big time with pillows all around him and checked on him every hour like he was a newborn. Oh my. And don’t you know it — he did just fine all night long but then fell off it randomly during the middle of the day. C’est la vie. Just when you think you have things all figured out, it all changes. It keeps life interesting, I guess.

Another highlight was bowling it up! What a hoot! Did you know there is such thing as a bowling “ramp” for anyone not up to throwing the ball? YOu put the ball on top, give it a little push, and it rolls down and works some serious magic on the pins. Sam used it and outscored me handily. Go figure. Next time I am going to plead old age and use the ramp, too. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!

LibbY

PS This blog is also on www.RichmondChic.com

One thought on “Homestead Hobo

  1. When I grow up, I want to be a Homestead Hobo, too! Either that or Sam Mmmmackey! You guys look like you had a blast. I know I owe you a phone call, so be prepared — I’m going to try and sneak it in during all my new-found copious free time!

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