I hope you read this article about the phrase “can’t even,” because there is really no other appropriate way to refer to this week other than saying I can’t even. I just can’t.
We’ve been on the road, along for the ride while Tahd teaches some classes. Travel is its own beast. I love it, but it is s.o. m.u.c.h. work. It’s been super good and then super can’t even. Like, we visited two new states – Arkansas and Mississippi. Not even just a drive-through – ate dinner in one and went to a playground in the other. Legit. And then, eighteen hours in the car, and probably eighteen more to go. Can’t even.
And then there’s the food. Oh my gosh…Memphis. I NEED MORE BARBECUE, and I don’t even really like meat. As in, I purposefully ordered pork, which I hate, because it smelled so good. And I ate the best Mexican food I’ve ever had in my entire life. I can die now, and I didn’t even know I needed to eat excellent Mexican food before I died. Super crazy amazing.
And then Isla almost drowned. Not even joking. She wanted to try to swim without her flotation device. She can’t unless we hold her up, but she thinks she can, which is the problem. So we were holding her and she was getting out of the pool and jumping in while we caught her. Things were wrapping up and Gabe was super angry he didn’t get to play a particular game, which turned into a giant family argument in front of everyone else at the pool which was totally not awkward at all. Meanwhile, Isla got tired of waiting for us and jumped in behind our backs without anyone noticing. Thankfully, it dawned on Tahd that he didn’t see Isla, and we both turned around just in time to see her sweet little face, eyes opened and filled with panic, just below the surface.
Note: when they say drowning is actually a quiet thing, they’re not kidding. There was no flailing, screaming, or bobbing. She was completely silent and not one person in the pool was alarmed. But had Tahd not seen her, it would not have been good. So. On that note, can’t even.
As well on that note, swimming lessons ASAP.
And equally can’t even (and also related to the pool, but a different day), Jude slipped on the pool deck and smacked the back of his head. It swelled a bit and looked red, but he seemed generally fine and I thought nothing of it. In fact, the next day, I had forgotten it happened. When he woke up, though, he was punk and laid draped across my legs. Then he mournfully wailed while I showered, and at breakfast, he threw up every last thing he had eaten. Which was a lot. Vomit at a hotel is always a can’t even.
Then we went back up to the room to clean up, and he fell asleep at a non-nap time, and that’s when I realized, um…this is abnormal. Can anyone say concussion? I called Tahd and we did a little checking into things, and in the end we decided that even though he might have had one, unless it was a bad one the hospital wouldn’t do anything for it, so we’d just keep an eye on him. He had a bit of a punk day, but the throwing up was the worst of it and he’s back to normal now. Except I’m running around like a mad woman trying to prevent further head trauma. You know, can’t even.
Overall, I really liked Memphis. Even pushing seventy pounds of children-in-stroller uphill both ways in 95 degree heat. As well as playing in crazy unshaded parks with my children. Which, side note, resulted in a group of young girls asking Gabe if he was at the park with his grandma…
If you couldn’t guess, can’t even.
I’d totally visit again. Which is super good because we’re going back today. But I probably need to go on a diet and run a lot, because the eating. Nom.
Other pictures to follow after I finally download them off the camera. I think there are 500. Can’t even.