I am awake because:
1) I am the very lucky winner of a massive head cold and
2) I am still very angry.
On Saturday, I found out that the 287.5 mile Ride Across California which Dave and the 2 children were packing for would not have an official photographer this year. The year Rebi went, someone took their RV and a big nice camera and rode along, sometimes even on a bike, and we have 993 photos, give or take a few, to commemorate the event. All for one low price of $20. Knowing that the only camera we own is my big nice Canon (which I barely know how to use), I had planned to shell out the $20 again. Cheaper than one of the kids breaking my very big nice Canon.
Upon finding out that was not an option, I wrestled with myself. I could go to Walmart and spend $200 we can't spare, I can send the big camera, I can call a friend and beg to borrow a smaller camera, or we can just not have photos.
(Does everyone see where this is going now?)
I went to Walmart. I looked at the specs of every camera in the store, finally finding a little Nikon which was not displayed yet. It was a nice little camera and would handle well for the trip. I even picked out the one with the aluminum frame versus the plastic frame, so that in the event of a bike topple, the camera would have some extra durability. And then I came home.
Being as this is the 3rd portable camera I have bought in the last 18 months, I proceeded to forbid all children from touching it. (Waaaawaaa wa waaa wa. Waa waaa wa wa waaaa.)
I clearly told Dave that the children were not to touch it under any circumstances. The only one taking pictures with that camera should be him. Because he has a job and he paid for it.
(Waa waaawa wawaaaaaa. Waaaawaaa wa waaa wa. Waa waaa wa wa waaaa.)
Naturally, they got settled into their campground last night and one of the children requested the camera to take pictures of her friends. And Dave gave it to her. And I'm sure she promised to be careful and I'm sure, by the way she called me- sobbing hysterically- that she had absolutely no idea that cameras could get broken on a MERRY-GO-ROUND!
WHAT?!?!?!? Yes, you read right. "I will be so careful with the camera" and "I'm going to put this on my wrist and let someone spin me on the merry-go-round until my eyes bleed" were one and the same thing. But of course, I can only hear the word "broken" and much sobbing, and I'm wondering why, if she has broken something on her body, there isn't an adult explaining to me what happened as they are reassuring me that they are coordinating care for her. I'm picturing another broken femur, but on a much larger child than Nate was when he broke his at 3. So I beg her to calm down and take a deep breath and speak slower. Except I don't think I really wanted to know. Because it just confirms that they (and please feel free to include Dave in that they, who had the cajones to say to me, "I figured she was old enough to be careful" which, of course, is exactly why I had specified to him that no children were to touch that camera. . .) either don't listen to me, or they think that Mom can't possibly predict consequences. In spite of my uncannily accurate track record.
All I'm saying is a broken bone would have been cheaper. And I wouldn't still be angry.
(But I would still have this crappy head cold)