the girl who had a happy 4th

I will start this post by admitting we really don't celebrate the Fourth of July. It isn't that we are unpatriotic or anything: we simply don't like crowds. And the Fourth of July seems to be nothing but crowds.

However, I impulsively bought sparklers this year, figuring the boys were old enough to handle this trip to the emergency room on a stick. Plus, I wanted to try out this setting on my camera to see if I could get some cool shots. It all comes down to the photo ops, folks.

Then friends of Aramis' Dad invited us over for a barbecue and day in the pool for the following day, so we actually got out of the house.

And how does this fabulous holiday pay me back when I finally decide to acknowledge it?

It rains.

Don't we have some deal with the weather gods that it will not rain on the 4th of July? Seriously.

It had cleared up by the evening, and I got out the sparklers.

I cannot describe the chaos that ensued as soon as I walked out the door with sparklers in hand. It seemed as if every neighborhood kid converged on my doorstep insisting I give them a sparkler to play with. Being the mean mom that I am, I repeatedly said, "No, you need your parent's permission." It was amazing how many said "Oh, my parents let me play with hot molten fire on a stick on a regular basis, it really is no problem at all." So I took their word for it and grudgingly allowed a single sparkler each, praying there would be no opportunity for a lawsuit.

But I held some back, and after watching the neighbors light various incendiary devices in the parking lot, I tried again. And this time I got my pictures. Mission accomplished!

The next day, the weather gods smiled upon us and it did not rain. We went over to the aforementioned friends' house. They have a pool. My kids do not know how to swim. I have not been in a bathing suit since...well, I'm not sure since when, but I do know that it was at least one kid ago. Needless to say, the whole operation required an immense amount of courage.

I'm happy to say that I, all of my children and my spouse, survived. It was funny, Matthew couldn't wait to get in the pool and started stripping down (like he knew what he was doing) the second he saw it. Ian was dead set against the whole idea. Aramis had to wrestle him into swim trunks and practically throw him into the pool to get him to go splash in the shallow end. Zack was all for it and was begging me to teach him to swim.

Fast forward.

One accidental dunking and a snootful of water later, Matthew had enough of the pool and did NOT want to go back in. Ian was a little fish, staying in until the bitter end when I had to pull him out, kicking and screaming, lest I end up with a raisin for a son, and Zack decided learning to swim was not nearly as much fun as simple scooting around the edge of the pool by hanging onto the wall.

And what about Eli? Eli was chill. All the other boys, when introduced to the water, held on for dear life. Eli took to the water like he was born to it. Kicking his little legs in the water, resting serenely on the back of the obsequious inflatable aligator, and all in all, having a groovy time.

Besides the pool, there was the food. Every time I turned around, there was food being pushed upon us. The kids ate it up (if you'll pardon the expression) and pretty much had something in their mouth all day long. These friends decided they were in love with our kids, so when Aramis and I were tired and worn out, they shooed us home and we left the kiddos with them. We came home, did a little housework, took a teeny nap and three hours later, we picked them up again.

It was a nice break. We might do it again sometime.