It all began last Friday when I spent my day in preparations for a weekend spent at the beach. Out of all the errands that I ran that day two in particular stand out to me. First, I had to make sure I had a full tank of gas, without much thought I stopped at the nearest gas station. I purchased gas for $2.15 a gallon, my only thought, "gas prices just keep going down...awesome."
After the purchase of a full tank of gas I went further down the road and saw another store that had gas priced at $2.35 a gallon. That's unusual considering these two places usually compete pretty closely with one another on price. For the rest of the day I noticed other gas station's prices and nothing came close to $2.15. It wasn't until I was driving home that I passed the station where I had bought my gas earlier in the day and noticed the price had gone up to $2.35 a gallon. Found out later that they had made a mistake earlier in the day, and for about a 1/2 hour their customers got gas at a reduced price on $2.15. Lucky Me!
I wasn't so lucky when I went to get my haircut. For awhile now I've been getting my haircut by, Nancy, who is a terrific hairdresser. It was at my 10 year highschool reunion recently when I learned one of my old classmates is working as a hairdresser in Bridgewater, and I thought I'd go to her in support of her work (I'm really not that picky - it's just hair it grows back). When I dropped by where she works, I learned that she had to suddenly leave early for the day and wouldn't be back to Monday, they asked if I'd like to rechedule. I was really set on getting my hair cut before I left for the beach, so I took an opening to get my hair cut by another woman at the salon. The hair cut was going well and I was quite pleased until she tackled my bangs lastly. I told her exactly how I liked them cut, and exactly how I DID NOT want them cut. Let's just say in the end I'm now sporting the perfect example of how I DON'T like having my bangs cut.
When I got back out to my car and looked at my bangs the phrase that kept coming to mind was "Bowl Cut". I look like one of those little amish boys and their bowl cut bangs. I knew it was bad when one of my teens at Sandal House also used the phrase bowl cut.
As for damage control on my hairstyle that won't be possible for another week maybe two. I need to give my bangs some time to grow, and then I'm off to see Nancy for the fix. I think I've learned my lesson here, from now on only Nancy gets to cut my hair. Sorry to my old classmate, but I'm just not ready to make the jump to a new hairdresser at this time.
And all that was just Friday, I still had a very busy Saturday and Sunday to survive. We awoke early on Saturday morning to start the drive down to Virginia Beach. By early I mean to say, I took a page out of my Dad's book and left at 4 a.m. The traffic was non-existent and we arrived at the beach by 8 a.m.
We spent an exhausting morning by the ocean. In the past I could enjoy the beach because it meant playing or laying out in God's beautiful creation. On this particular morning I spent time chasing around a 16 month old little boy, who only wanted to chase seagulls, run into the ocean, and eat sand. After 3 and 1/2 hours of keeping up with those activities we were ready to call it quits and head to the Virginia Beach Strip for some lunch. Of course that meant we must first lug all our beach equipment back to the car. You know how much stuff you need at the beach when you have kids? Too MUCH!!
After a couple of hours of eating lunch and shopping it was time to get back in the car and retrace our steps to Williamsburg, where I had booked us a hotel for the night. Once in Williamsburg we headed to the pool for some more swimming and then went to the room for naps. Unfortunately for the adults present the little 16 month old had slept in the car and wasn't desiring a nap at the time. I had just commented on how he seemed to be in everything in our room, when he tripped over his own two little feet and fell. He smacked his head on the table between the two double beds and began to cry. His Mom picked him up as if nothing had happened and I ran to get a towel because I had seen the blood. Sure enough this little boy had a bloody, gapping wound on his forehead, which lucky for us didn't bleed too much. As soon as I saw the cut I knew it would need stitches.
Since God knows our needs before we even do ourselves, He had prepared a way for us to get to the hospital in the form of my Aunt who lives in Williamsburg. I called her for directions to the hospital and she responded with I'll be right over. Aunt Jan was wonderful, giving time out of her evening to spend with us at the hospital (which was a maze to find from our hotel and would have made me crazy trying to find on my own).
The toddler's mom wasn't to keen on the idea of bloody wound being stitched up, fearing she would faint I stepped in as the assistant to restrain the child. The Mom stepped into the hallway and I held down a papposed screaming hysterical child as he received four stitches. Lucky for me the doctor had to position me so that I looked directly into the wound, yeah for my strong stomach.
I know that the stitches didn't hurt this little boy, because as soon as it was over and he was unrestrained and in his mother's arms he was smiling and laughing in a matter of moments. It's amazing to me the difference a mother's arms can make for a child.
From that point it was back to the hotel, ordering some dinner and eating in bed. As soon as my meal was finished I was asleep, for it had been a long day.
The plan for Sunday morning was to sleep in and have brunch with my Aunt before checking out Colonial Williamsburg. Sleeping in with a toddler in the room meant we were awake by 8 a.m. Brunch was a hurried affair as we tried to keep a toddler pacified, and Colonial Williamsburg ended up being a shortened version because of the excessive heat. It was almost a relief to call the vacation to an end and head back home. Ahhhh HOME and my own bed!! That's where I spent Sunday night and what a pleasant night sleep it was :) That was the end of my long weekend.