The 30 inch Terrorist

It is next to impossible to turn on the TV and not hear anything about terrorism these days.  It is seemingly everywhere; several workers at the TSA are thought to have ties to terrorism, rouge terrorists tried to take out security guards at a controversial art exhibit down south, just last week a lot closer to home, a suspected terrorist was hanging around outside of a CVS...but for me it is much, much closer to home...I believe I may be living with a 30 inch terrorist...

I know in the past I may have mentioned I believe Emily has declared a fatwa on us and that she may or may not have forged a jihad against us.  Emily is forever getting into mischief, always blaming her older sisters for her misdeeds and always looks like the cat that swallowed the canary when you enter the room.  Well my friends, lately the evidence has become too compelling to ignore.

Though she is only 20 months old she is a smart little bugga.  Against my wishes she spends far too much time using the ipad.  She is kind of a wiz on it, I say that not to brag-- as I find it embarrassing that she spends so much time on it when the Academy of Pediatrics clearly states "no screen time under 2 years of age"...I will be returning my Child Development Degree to Wheelock...I no longer deserve it, but more to prove my point that she may be a terrorist in the making.  Somehow she found this cartoon she loves.  It is 2 young boys that look to be of Middle Eastern descent.  No problem with that...I want my children to be open to other cultures.  I can't understand most of what they say.  Again, no problem with that, however, at the start of their show they do say one word that I can make out...they say in unison, "Infidels", at least that is what I think they say...Sara and Anna think it is something more along the lines of, "kick the bells".  Just take that little nugget and sit with it a minute while I describe more...

Yesterday I caught her watching a Youtube video of the Philippine National Army practicing drills.  How the hell did she find that video?  Also, she is quite the little expert when it comes to climbing on the backyard jungle gym...I have seen the Al Qaeda training videos...there are ALWAYS monkey bars involved!!   Oh, I just remembered while she was "playing" on the play-gym she slammed into me nearly breaking my nose...coincidence?  Maybe...or she may just be perfecting her Krav maga skills.  My sweet, darling Anderson Cooper has been reporting lately that ISIS has been recruiting young people, targeting women especially,  through the use of social media...she may just be the youngest member indoctrinated so far.

Speaking of ISIS, the other day she walks into the TV room talking to herself.  She spots me and yells, "ISIS, ISIS, ISIS!"  Could she have been talking about my glass full of ice?  Possibly.  But I am still going to sleep with one eye open as I can not definitively prove otherwise. 

Recently my blog has been viewed from Indonesia, Palestine, Iran and Iraq.  I am grateful for all page views regardless of their origin, but again, is it a coincidence that since Emily has been fiddling around with the computer my page views have jumped in places that are considered "hot beds" of terrorist activity? There are a few too many "coincidences" to ignore.  To quote Ian Fleming;

“Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action"

 And there you have it my friends...apparently I am the mother of a mini terrorist.

Mother's Day...why should today be any different?

So today is Mother's Day.  It is my first mother's day without my mom.  I tried really hard to get all my sadness out yesterday.  I went to her grave and planted flowers and cried.  A lot.  But today I really wanted to focus on my girls and make a day of special memories with them.  So we make plans to go to this really cool park a little over an hour away.   Of course my life being mine, things are always just slightly off.

The girls are so excited to give me their presents.  All three of them made really cute pictures of their hand-prints at school and were so proud of their masterpieces.  They also got me a Bath and Body Works lavender spray set to help me sleep at night.  Their Auntie Jen helped them pick it out, though they told her I don't really need it because all I do is sleep.  Umm, not true!!  I mean SO not true!  I have been seeing a sleep psychologist for the past few weeks.  Yes, their are therapists devoted just to the psychology of sleep.  I average 4 hours a sleep a night.  My primary care doc sent me to a sleep specialist who in turn referred me to the sleep psychologist.  I just want to sleep...not delve into my deepest feelings about sleep.  Give me a flippin Unisom for Christ's sake!  Now, if I complained about a back ache I would be giving a prescription to treat it in no time.  But God forbid I get a script for sleep without having to see this guy every Thursday for 6 weeks.  But, I digress...that is a blog post for another time.  Anyway, I am very thankful for the lavender spray and I can't wait to try it out tonight!

So then I open my other present.  It is a lighted, magnifying mirror and a pair of really good tweezers.  Just what I wanted!  No, seriously...for real.  I have been dying for this mirror.  I was so excited, part of me wanted to stay home and test it out...but the girls were antsy to get going.  The mirror will have to wait.

So I finish packing up for our trip.  The park has a splash pad so I need to get the girls towels.  Of course we only have 3 towels in the closet.  Chuck goes downstairs but the towels were still in the washer and they will take over an hour to dry.  So we have to make do.  The girls are fine...they will each have a towel to dry off with at the splash park.  The issue being, I still have yet to take a shower.  So, yup...you guessed it!  Once again I was forced to be creative in my drying off process.  Tablecloth it is.    I pick the fancy white one...It is Mother's Day God damn it! I say to myself.  I want to at least have some shred of dignity on this day when I am supposed to be celebrated.  Though it is really hard to have any dignity at all when the reality of wandering through the house in a table linen hits you.  Oh well, why should today be any different?

We get out to the park and I go to grab the bag with the precious 3 towels in it and guess what?  Chuck never grabbed it when packing up the car!!  Yeah, that's about right for us!!  No worries, we have a great time anyway.

So they drop me off at home and head over to see Chuck's mom.  Yippee!!  I am home A.L.O.N.E!  I am dying to try out my new magnifying mirror.  Why all the excitement?  Well, I am entering that wonderful stage of life called menopause.  Sh*tty for me...lucky for all of you...I can almost guarantee there will be plenty of posts headed your way.  So due to the surge of some hormones and decrease of other, or however this whole sexy process works, I am slowly becoming a werewolf.  I need the super mirror to make sure I nip any stray hairs in the bud right away.  Sometime immediately after my 40th birthday...I mean within nanoseconds my eyesight sh*t the bed.  So a regular bathroom mirror won't cut it anymore.  The fact Chuck bought me the mirror and tweezers, that, that right there is true love.  I mean, no where in our vows did it say, "in waxed chins and in hairy"...I bet never in a million years did he think while sitting across from me on our first date, "she is going to be my wife one day and I am going to buy her a mirror so she can tweeze away her whiskers".  He is a good, good man.

So I sit down and turn the mirror on.  Now, I am not calling anyone out here but...what happened to the post 911 phrase, "if you see something, say something?"  Turns out I have been sporting a uni-brow.  Now, it is not a super obvious one like Bert from Sesame Street or anything, but it was there none the less.  I know my uni-brow is not on par with I don't know, say an unattended black duffel bag at the airport but come on...someone could have said something.  Don't even get me started on the random, inch long blond hairs randomly placed on my chin, neck and jaw line.  This menopause crap is gonna be fun!  Thank God for my new mirror...not sure what the hell I am going to do when the hot flashes start up in earnest...if you have been reading my blog for a while you know I  whole-heartedly believe I will, at some point, become the victim of spontaneous human combustion, but at least I will be beard free when I blow up.

So here I sit, brows freshly tweezed, plenty of towels in the closet thinking about my day.  I am glad I had my emotional, first mother's day without my mom- breakdown yesterday, and today I focused on my girls and was able to find the humor and joy in my life.  My mom would have wanted nothing less for me today.

P.S.--For the record I will wash the table cloth in a hot water wash with bleach...in case any of you were wondering!

Life lessons my children have yet to learn...

1.  If you write on something other than paper (the wall, the dresser, a chair, etc.) do not use your go-to drawing.  I know which child is famous for their butterflies, which one is known for their stars and which one just scribbles.  Mix it up a bit...extend your freedom by a few extra minutes while I try and figure out who the graffiti artist is.

2.  Dry shampoo is just a stop-gap measure until you can properly wash your hair.  It is not intended for daily use.

3.  For Emily, my cleavage is not a pocket.  Please stop trying to store things there.

4.  An animal print top with an animal print pant and animal print backpack, headband and shoes is not a good look.  For anyone.  Ever.

5.  Flush the toilet.  Your poop is not that special you need to save it. 

6.  Hounding me after I already give you "no" as an answer will not get me to change my mind.  Ever.  It will just make me more resolute in my answer.  (Your dad, however, will most likely give in so go bug him instead).

7.  If you are going to sneak candy before lunch-- hide the wrappers.  Learn to bury them in the trash or better yet put them in the recycling bin.  Leaving them out gives you away.  Wait, scratch that...don't put them in the recycling bin....that is where I put 75% of the worksheets you come home from school with.

8.  Every single paper you put a chicken scratch on does not need to be saved for infinity.  I save the important ones, but please don't go nuts if you see a 'busy work' paper in the trash.


I am sure there are many, many more life lessons they need to grasp...but, for now we will focus on these ones.

Hometown Hero

I know I often complain of living in such a small town and more often than not, I am daydreaming of moving to somewhere a bit more urban.  Today is not one of those days.  Today I am very proud of my small town.  Today we will say goodbye to one of our own.  Today our town will lay a hero to rest.

We live in a sleepy little town in the central part of the state.  It is an old mill town built along the Blackstone River.  It is full of hardworking people who really do care about one another.  In the 6 years or so that we have lived here I have seen and experienced first hand the community come together in hard times.  Within hours of  house fires emails are flying around coordinating donations for the displaced families, when the school override failed parents came together to raise funds to keep some of the activities from being cut and during the awful winter this year neighbors helped neighbors dig out from the snow.  When I had  complications after Emily was born and was in and out of the hospital people came out of the woodwork to help me...watching the girls for me, making dinners for us and even just standing next to my car in the morning so I didn't have to drag the baby out at school drop off.   Many of them I barely knew at the time...now I consider them friends. The term "salt of the earth" really fits for our town.

So when a 22 year old soldier from our town was killed in Afghanistan,  his death rocked our little town to it's core.  Bad things like that happen to other people, other places...not here.  Now, don't get me wrong, our town is not perfect, we have our issues too (break-ins, drug problems and our fair share of crazy), but the death of such a young, promising member of our community has hit hard.

Once again our town has pulled together to support his family.  Almost every house has an American flag proudly displayed, which were handed out by local veterans who stood in the town square for days making sure all who wanted one got one.  The firefighters worked tirelessly putting up flags and yellow ribbons all along the funeral procession route.  The little bridal shop in "downtown" has flags in their window, the cafe has messages of thanks on their sandwich board...so do several other businesses.  I have seen street sweepers coming through to clear away all the winter sand, volunteers decorating the traffic islands in red, white and blue and making sure our town looks its best for the soldier's family.  It is just a small way for us as a town to show his family our appreciation.  It gives me goose bumps every time I drive through town.

One thing that strikes me the most is that no one I have talked to in town knows this soldier or his family.  It doesn't matter.  When one of our own is hurting, we are all hurting.  Through all of this I have not heard any of the typical rhetoric, "we need to get the hell out of there"..."bomb them all"...because, again, it doesn't matter right now.  No matter what side of the aisle you sit on, a 22 year old died.  Showing his family our gratitude and respect is all that matters right now.

Later this morning I will be taking my girls out on this raw and rainy morning to stand and watch the funeral procession.  I want them to understand what a true hero is.  I think too often people look to sports stars and entertainers as role models.  I always hear the term "class act" thrown around when an athlete tosses a ball to a kid in the stands.  To me that is not a hero.  I am sure it is pretty easy to sign a contract awarding you millions of dollars to throw a football.  It takes unbelievable courage and bravery to sign your name on a military contract.  Many young men and women are literally signing their life away when they sign on that dotted line.  To me, a hero is an ordinary person who, when faced with an extraordinary circumstance rises to the challenge; soldiers, firefighters, police officers, doctors, nurses and teachers.  My girls like to listen to Taylor Swift and Katy Perry, that is ok...I think they have  good, positive messages for girls in their music.  However, when it comes to role models I will teach them about Malala Yousafza the young girl shot by the Taliban because she refused to back down in her idea that girls should receive an education, Mother Teresa for her dedication to helping the poor...the likes of them.

As I sit and type this post the girls are putting the finishing touches on the signs they plan to hold as the hearse and family ride by.  It is because of the sacrifices of this young man and so many men and women that have gone before him that I am able write about and post my opinions, that my girls are able to receive an education that has given them the ability to read and write their signs, and, that we have the freedom to walk down the end of our street to see his procession go by.  For that we are eternally grateful.  Rest easy Corporal John Dawson.  Thank you for your service.

Till Death Do Us Part?....What about a bad haircut?

 In this year of our Lord two thousand and fifteen, I can formally announce it has happened.  I know many of you thought this day had already come, but you can all rest assured it is now official....the world's worst hair cut ever has been given.  I am the lucky recipient.  In thinking of how I would describe this abomination to you I can honestly say words failed me.  I am having an incredibly difficult time finding the words to describe what has happened on top of my head.  I will try my best, but, in all fairness to my faithful readers, the words I type will in no way, shape or form truly convey the horror that is now my new style.

I have no one to blame but myself.  I haven't had my hair cut in a few months...it is a shorter hairstyle so realistically I should be in the salon every 5 weeks.  It was really shaggy and out of control.  I have been putting off making an appointment because I really haven't been in the mood to be out and about in society lately.  Plus, I can't justify spending $70 for a 10 minute hair cut when I have 3 kids.  The money can be put to better use.  So even though I know I am going to come out disappointed I strayed from the regular salon and opted for a more economical cut. 

I explain what I want to the stylist.  Stick to the same shape of the cut I have, just cut about 1/2 an inch off.  So she gets to work; washes, cuts and blow dries it.  It didn't look any different from when I walked in...in fact, it somehow looked even longer and scragglier.  I voiced my concerns in a very nice way...she wet it again and got to work.  I was only half paying attention because Sara decided to get her hair done also, so as I was getting cut I was chatting with Sara's stylist. Big Mistake!!  When I finally looked in the mirror I was horrified.  Somehow she managed to defy all laws of physics and cut the top short and leave the back and sides longer, yet there was a circle of longer hair that was standing at attention right in the center of my head.  Kind of like a 3 tiered cake.  I know you are thinking, oh, like a mullet?  I wish it were a mullet...then there would be at least a name for it.  A traditional mullet is short on the top AND sides while longer in the back.  This is short on the top and longer on the SIDES and back.  I know it is hard to picture so let's see if I can paint a more descriptive picture for you;  so imagine an old man--bald on top with long scraggly hair around his whole head....kind of like Friar Tuck.  Then take that same man and put a really short toupee on top making sure it is kind of off center and askew.  Yeah, that is a good start.  Oh, then add a cowlick right in the front.  In 42 years I have never had a cowlick there but magically one appeared after this chick's handy work. 

I wish that were the end of the worst hair cut ever, but no my friends...it is even better.  On the left hand side of my head she left about 30 hairs untouched.  I have a tuft of hair sticking out a good two inches longer than the rest.  Hmmm...what to do?  What to do?  I have a couple of fantastic options; 1.  I could leave it and just have it blowing in the wind and make people try and figure out if that were a special request on my part, 2.  I could braid it into a rat tail and bring the late 80's back, or 3. I could curl it into a pretty little tendril and place baby's breath throughout.  I decided to take scissors to it and cut that sh*t off.

So there I was sitting in the salon with what is unequivocally the worst hair cut ever when a dad walks in with his two young impressionable daughters.  I know they were looking at me, though trying to not look too closely for fear of their corneas burning off, wondering if I am the "before" or "after" version of myself.  Poor things...they had such pretty hair when they walked in...

When you see me out and about no need to tell me it really isn't "that bad".  I have spent most of last night and early this morning painstakingly cutting each individual hair to try and get it to at least blend  and not look like some futuristic, shelf looking, cheap toupee.  I keep telling myself it is only hair it will grow back.  For the next few weeks I will be going heavy on the eye make-up trying to distract the world and have them focus on my baby blues instead of the bird's nest atop my noggin.

So I am giving Chuck a free pass.  If he wants to divorce me I will not contest him.  It is not because I do not love him, quite the opposite I do very much.  In our vows I remember saying things to the effect of; for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health...I do not, however remember any caveat about in good hair and in bad.  This is about as bad as it gets.

Now, who knows?  Maybe she is fantastic at what she does and was just pissed off at me for questioning her stylistic abilities after her first go around with my hair.  Maybe this is just hair dresser karma.  Maybe I should have just left well enough alone.  Or maybe she flat out sucks.  I will never know for sure.  What I do know for sure is that you all can rest easy the next time you sit in your stylist's chair...you will get a decent hair cut.  The worst cut ever has come and gone, and I have taken one for the whole human race.  You are welcome!



 

#TBT #tiredhairymess #thankyou #whatthef*ckisahashtaganyway?

So I am not one to fall victim to trends or fads on Facebook. You will never see any #TBT pictures on my timeline.  I have never and will never "hash tag" anything....Oh, when did the pound sign become a hash tag?  And when for the love of God did the number sign change to a pound sign? I don’t pass along any of the electronic chain letters I get.  I don’t forward things to five friends.  I  won’t tell you how we met so you can assign me a number or whatever the heck people get assigned.    I also never get into the whole month of gratitude.  It always cracks me up seeing this poignant posts on people’s walls during November…I want to comment, “umm…I know you in real life…you are not that deep…you really are saying you are grateful for cozy socks, hot cider and a good book?...wasn’t it just last week you were complaining about the smell on the T, the jackass from the parent drop-off lane and the dumbass at Dunkin Donuts that can’t get your order right?”  Anyway, back to my post…I decided it was high time I share with all of you some of the things I am thankful for.

 

• Thank you Pop Tarts.  Just as I was feeling bad about eating two of your chocolate crap cakes for breakfast I saw right on the box you are cholesterol free.  So my breakfast was kind of healthy after all.
• Thank you Emily for waking me up at 5:03 a.m. EVERY.  DAY.  If you did not reach over and pull my eyelid open and stare at me while asking for “Peppa” I might forget to wake up and miss out on my day. 
• Thank you again to Emily for somehow finding your way into my bed each night.  It's not like I really want a good night's sleep anyway.
• Thank you to all of my children for staying up past 8 p.m.  If you went to bed on time I would actually get a chance to watch my crush, the one and only Anderson Cooper...thank you for taking away my 60 minutes of happiness.
• While we are talking about the lovely Anderson Cooper, thank you to the world for being so effed up I can’t watch the Coop while my children are awake.
• Thank you Anna for collecting and storing in Ziplock bags the cat whiskers, cat nail trimmings and rogue cat hair wisps you find around the house.  I may be the mother to a budding serial killer but at least the house is free of cat hair.
• Thank you to the TV channel TLC and your show My 600 lb. life.  If it weren’t for you I may have put down the bag of Doritoes after a few chips, but, thanks to your programming I ate the whole bag and felt validated in my decision to “go all in”…bring on the scooter!
• Thank you to first grade Common Core Math for solidifying my 7 year old’s burgeoning sense that her mother really doesn’t know everything.
• Thank you peri menopuase for effing up my body.  I really was hoping at some point to relive my teenage acne…oh, and I always had dreams of running away with the circus…thanks to you I am single-handedly keeping Clearasil in business and I am well on my way to being able to fill in for the bearded lady should she need to take a leave.  You are just awesome!

Thank you to anyone who made it through my cranky post.  #youarewaybetterthanme

Accidental Fecal Release

Again, sorry for the huge gap between posts.  I have not been in the mood to write since my mom died.  Anyway, I figured I would give it a try today and see if I can write myself out of the funk I have been in.  Here goes...

So after coming home from my mom's services I decided we needed a distraction from all the sadness we had just endured.  Chuck agreed and we hastily booked an overnight at the new Great Wolf Lodge that opened up not too far from us.  We booked the fancy room with the Wolf Den bedroom for the kids...like anything cool we try to do, it, of course came back to bite us in the ass.  So two days later we spring the kids from school a little early and head to the hotel.  Chuck and I are so excited because we have kept it a secret from them.  We are driving in the middle of nowhere and neither of them ask where we are going...I am so disappointed.  Finally about 5 minutes from GWL I make them guess where we are going.  After a boatload of clues Sara figures it out.

So we get to the hotel, get registered and settle into our room.  The girls are so excited and LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the cool wolf den bedroom with the bunk beds.  We get our bathing suits on and head for the water park.  There are so many cool water slides, wave pools and water toys kids will be entertained for hours.  Yeah, except mine.  Safety Sara insists on wearing one of the community life jackets provided by the park...even when she is in the wave pool.  Oh, and when I say she is "in" the wave pool I mean her feet, ankles and her shins are in the wave pool.  Yet, she still insists on the life vest.  I guess you never can be too careful.  On the complete opposite end of the spectrum we have Emily, the baby, whom left to her own devices would sail over Niagara Falls in a barrel if we let her.  That kid has no fear and no sense.  Not a good combo in an everyday setting, a recipe for disaster in a water park.  Poor Chuck was on Emily duty for most of the trip.  Then we have Anna...she had fun for about 28 minutes and then decided she was done.  So we change up, have dinner and hit the arcade.

Bedtime comes and they excitedly climb into the bunk beds in the wolf den.  The baby is in the pack and play and Chuck and I settle into our bed.  I am so physically and emotionally exhausted I just want to get a good night's sleep.  Not more than three tenths of a second after I close my eyes I hear it..."mom...mom...hey mom..."  OK, so one of my children has long straight hair that she parts in the middle and she is an extremely pale child.  I swear to all that is holy on more than one occasion she has woken me from a deep sleep and when I see her standing over me in my bed I nearly sh*t myself thinking she is a ghost.  Anyway, back to the story...without boring you with all the details Sara is terrified of the wolf wallpaper that is their little bedroom...she ends up in bed with Chuck and I end up on the pull-out couch...oh, and at some point the baby ends up on the couch with me.

So morning comes and we get ready for the water park again.  We head down and are about 30 minutes too early so we hang out in the arcade.  I need to use the bathroom so I head back to our room...and wouldn't you know it...friggin fire alarm is going off so we can't get back to our room!!  I only brought one bathing suit and it is still damp from the day before so in addition to having to hold my pee indefinitely (sorry, there is no way in hell I am going to pull my bathing suit down and be pretty much naked in a public bathroom) I am freezing.

So we spend some time wading ankle deep in the pools.  When the girls have had their fill of the human stew that is a public pool we change up and have lunch.  As we are heading back to the kiddie rides we get handed a formal memo from one of the life guards outside of the pool.  I take a glance at it and it says the pool will be closed due to an "Accidental Fecal Release"...huh?  Oh my God!  Someone sh*t in the pool!  Someone sh*t in the pool and now it is closed.  Now, of course this being me and my family it is no ordinary poop.  No my friends, this is super poop!  Cryptosporidium to be exact.  Now, you may not be familiar with this super sh*t butt, pun intended, being the nerd I am I knew exactly what it was.  I am an avid viewer of Monsters Inside of Me.  Dan Riskin, the biologist that hosts the show is a friend in my head.  I swear to God if someone gets infected with Bot Bot fly larvae I could remove that thing in my sleep.  So if you feel something crawling around in your head and you recently spent time in the tropics give me a call and head over with some Vaseline and tweezers...I can have you good as new in no time.  But back to the Crypto.  So the memo goes on and says that the pool will need to be closed for 18-24 hours per the CDC!!  Yeah, it is that kind of super poop!  Cryptosporidium is not your run of the mill diarrhea...it is sh*t that is encased in a hard shell.  I sh*t you not!!  It is crap ensconced in shell a la M&M's.  So seeing that I have the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy I start envisioning some kid popping a squat in the corner of the pool unleashing a torrent of mini M & M-style crap out of their ass. 

Now I am curious, how did they know it was super sh*t and not just your everyday turd?  Who has that glamorous job of testing each loaf?  I hope they get combat pay for that duty...ha-ha...see what I did there?  Duty?  Oh, and how do they know it was an "accidental" release?  Maybe some parent had it and was ready to stick needles in their eyes and decided to take their morning sit-down in the pool instead.  I mean it is kind of a brilliant plan.  Think about it.  Once the pool is closed there really isn't that much to do and you could pack it in early and head home.  Or, another thought I had was this; there is alcohol available for the adults.  A lot of alcohol.  Maybe one of the dads had a few too many the night before during the mind numbing story time/dance party.  It is conceivable that while in the pool with his kids he let one rip and unfortunately it was more than a fart.  Who knows?  It could have been a case of the beer sh*ts that shut the place down.  I guess I will never know.

Since returning from Great Wolf Lodge I have heard from 2 friends that have gone.  Both of them reported being the victims of an AFR.  That is what they call them there.  I guess they happen  so frequently the staff can't be bothered to say it in full each time.  An Accidental Fecal Release is so common it is now simply referred to as an "AFR". 

So the take away from our Great Wolf Lodge adventure is this; don't pay extra for the fun kids room if any of your children are afraid of paper wolves potentially attacking them in their sleep, bring your own Clorox bleach wipes...you never know when you may need to bleach your entire family down and if you think you may have to urge to stick needles in your eyes due to excess forced family fun, make sure to have a pack of mini M & M's on hand so you can inconspicuously drop them in the pool and yell, "Holy Sh*t!  We have an AFR over here!!"  You are welcome!