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Momservation: Why is the arrival of a much anticipated fun family event a virtual guarantee your kids will come down with the flu?

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I want to know what I did to upset the universe so that my kids come down with some sort of ick the first week of school.

I’ve been a good mommy. I played with them all summer and executed fun family trips and events from June to August. I kept a smile plastered on my face and didn’t let on when I’d had about enough of togetherness even when the long days of summer began to drag on.

I deserved that first week of school and the glorious empty, silent, puke and diarrhea-free house that I should’ve had.

Alas, it was not to be.

On top of that, we had two much anticipated fun family events to coincide with Back to School. We were going to celebrate the end of summer with our annual trip to the California State Fair and Ringling Bros. and Barnum and Bailey circus. Both happened to be in town the first week of school.

We go every year to the fair and circus (though not usually in the same week) and had bought our discount passes well in advance. The kids had been talking up what rides they wanted to ride first at the fair (the Giant Slide and the roller coasters) and what their favorite part of the circus would be (interacting with the clowns before the show and the human cannonball).

Then Whitney, 8, comes home barfing the first day of school. With fingers crossed, rest, chicken soup, and manic hand washing we tried to nurse her back to health and keep the rest of us well for the fair on Wed. and the circus on Thurs.

We got Whitney back on her feet Wed. and though not ready for a deep fried Twinkie, we headed with much anticipation to the fair. After the first three rides, she was done. Too much, too soon, and we were just grateful she didn’t puke in the car on the way home.

Ah, but then the barf baton was passed to brother and early Thurs. morning Logan, 9, was now in charge of holding the toilet down.

Though he hoped he’d make a miraculous recovery and be ready for the circus that evening, it ended up just being me and Whitney while Hubby took over doctor duty.

As usual it was a great show. Ringling Bros. and B & B do something every year to keep it fresh, and this year it was magic. Literally! Made elephants disappear and tigers appear. There were amazing horse tricks, dog tricks, elephant tricks, and tiger tricks. We saw more people flying through the air than at an airport. It was equal opportunity ooh and ahh for adults and kids.

But it was sad to have my son miss it. So I brought back pictures, a clown nose, a stuffed tiger and a keepsake program. I know it was overkill, but I felt bad that he’d have to wait a whole ‘nother year to see someone shot from a cannon and a tiger poop a pile as big as his head (if you have boys, you get this).  

So, I just bought plane tickets to go to Montana for Thanksgiving with Gammy. I better go get the kids their flu shot now or hope Delta airlines has those barf bags stocked and ready.

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Tickets for Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey’s Zing Zang Zoom circus are still available. The show is in town through Sunday at Arco Arena. Get discount tickets at the box office or through Ticketmaster.com with Promo Code: MOM. Four tickets for $44 – not a bad seat in the house.

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Momservation: It is a beautiful sight to behold watching your kids head back into the halls of knowledge after summer vacation.

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My kids started school today and I’m really feeling the need to get a T-shirt made that says, “I survived summer vacation.”

Don’t get me wrong, I had a blast with the kids this summer – a bonus of being a work-at-home mom and being able set it aside long enough to play with my kids while they still want me to. But I am a firm believer in too much of a good thing.

It’s also not that I was looking forward to resuming homework battles, realizing too late there’s no bread for lunches, fending off a PTA relentless for my volunteer blood, frenetic mornings, and overbooked schedules.

I just couldn’t keep up anymore. Wiped out and tapped out. Sucked all the fun right out of me making me wish for deadlines and writer’s block.

So, if I’m going to get this T-shirt made I might as well put on the back a checklist of all the things I did this summer that either qualifies me for the coveted Mother of the Year Award or as legally  insane (a fine line distinction).

• Sacrificed summer down time to swim team and All-Star baseball
• Organized 11-week Fun Wednesdays that included Raging Waters, bowling, Sky High, Folsom Lake, roller skating, miniature golfing and a Jelly Belly Factory tour
• Filmed a kitchen remodel commercial in one week that is currently running on the Food Network, DIY Channel, HGTV and FLN.
• British soccer camp
• Buzzardball basketball camp
• Sac State soccer camp
• Saw every 3D movie possible (and could now outfit a small country in 3D glasses)
• Family trip to Ventura (where I picked up a national award for best online column – yay me)
• Hosted a 4^th of July/40^th birthday party extravaganza for Hubby complete with Taco Guy and fireworks that lasted 8 hours
• Shaver Lake multi-family camping trip
• Union Valley Reservoir multi-family camping trip (complete with bear invasion)
• Hosted annual extended family rafting weekend
• A tortuous week of Back-to-School shopping

I, of course, saved the best event for last. My friend Becky’s Redneck Wedding - a kid free party of epic proportions in tasteless and out-of-control fun. You’ve never seen such a group of responsible and respectable parents, in desperate need for school to start, cutting loose before they lost it.

Thus, I leave you with two pictures as evidence of how I survived my summer vacation – getting to have fun with my kids and getting to act like a kid having fun.

Enjoy the journey.

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Momservation: Nothing says your family missed you like being greeted with a pile of laundry, unflushed toilets, and evidence of the food they ate still on the counter.

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So, Operation Haven’t-Aged-a-Day was a success.

I polished myself up good in preparation for my 20-year reunion. Tightened everything up nice with a steady diet of triathlon training – no one was going to catch Miss Best Tight End 1989 with her butt looking like a carport.

Suffered weeks of graying hair, seeing my premenopausal future staring back at me in the mirror, just so I would be the right “natural” shade of sunkissed brunette on the right day.

I had 18 year old girls at the local trendy boutique act as my personal fashion stylists, earning their commission to best figure out how to get a body that pushed out two kids to look like I never got chastised by a doctor for gaining too much weight during pregnancy.

In the final hours I closed with the last details – a pedicure for the one toe that would show in my peep-toe pumps, nails that see polish less than an eclipse cycle frenched-up, and my first time experience spending large amounts of time with toothpaste on my face to see if it really would clear up zits.

My immensely patient husband, having to live with this new strange woman suddenly obsessed with fighting the sands of time, was constantly muttering that it must be a girl thing. And it was. And I admit it was all very silly. But like my friend Chris also concedes, “I’m a bit of an overachiever.”

And yet for the thirteen people (but who’s counting, really?) at my reunion who gushed that I hadn’t aged a day – my new favorite people by the way – that moment of accomplishment made it all seem medal worthy.

But then after the last cocktails wears off, the hyper excitement of seeing formative acquaintances runs its course, and realizing you’re not 20 years younger and can’t party all night anymore, reality creeps up like the pain from your four-hour too high heels.

I have aged a day. Many, many, many days. And I’m okay with that. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have the life I love, the career I’ve established, the home I’ve created, the priceless friendships I’ve nurtured, the husband I adore, or the amazing children that give me purpose in life.

And nothing brings that all home like an 8 year old daughter who has seen me make her breakfast with pillow lines still etched on my face, parading around in holey underwear and stained T-shirts, hair thrown back in scraggly pony-tails for large portions of her life, my head shoved in toilet bowls, washing, dryer and dish washing machines, my face etched by the lines of grief, anger, frustration, happiness and joy.

And still she says to me, “Mommy, you don’t need to do anything. You’ll always be the most beautiful mommy in the world.”

I just wished she had told me that sooner and saved me from myself.