What I did on on my Summer Staycation, or the case for taking responsibility for one's own actions.

by Angela K. Durden 
Before I got married, when I was asked if I wanted an IUD as my birth control method of choice, I naturally asked how it worked. The IUD prevents pregnancy by blocking sperm from reaching an egg. Okay. Sounds good.  But, the doctor and nurse continued helpfully, if by chance the sperm does reach the egg and it manages to get the job done, no worries because the IUD will aggravate the hell out of the fertilized egg and get rid of it and — very importantly — you'll never know a thing. 

At this my brain began to grind. 

You must understand I was never that little girl who dreamed of having babies. I didn't like to babysit. I always preferred the company of adults. I chose to marry a man who also didn't want children. I had it all planned.

No children for us. Whew.

At the same time, we made the decision not to kill a child for our convenience — no matter which stage of growth that child was in — or kill a child because we were too lazy to take advance precautions. (Yeah, those late-in-the-night snuggled-in-the-warm-bed quickies can ruin all sort of plans. You know what I'm talking about.) 

You see, we actually believed we were responsible for our own actions and the life those actions could bring forth. Never once did we ask any boss or company to take on the responsibility of paying for our contraception. 

All politics aside — and I mean all politics aside — responsible adults always sacrifice themselves for the children. They never sacrifice children on behalf of the themselves.

That's why when I found myself pregnant (except for abstinence, no method is 100%), I had that girl child, and then a boy child; my husband and I never once thought of abortion. We raised those children, did right by them, and did a good job of it. While the marriage is over, we now have two grandchildren from the daughter.

I am writing this as I end yet another annual two-week Summer Visit by the Grands, one of which is almost 15 (visiting week two) and the other almost 12 (visited week one). We have a blast. If anything ever happened to their parents, I'd take over in a heartbeat. 

"Yeah, I love them all and I wouldn't take a million dollars for any of them. But I wouldn't give a plugged nickel for another." 

And that quote, dear friends, is taken directly from my mother-in-law's most wonderful mother after she had five children (and raised them all by herself when her husband died) and was in turn loved by multitudes of grands. 

I have a feeling she and I would have gotten along like a house on fire. 

What I did on my Summer Staycation: Pictorial Journey

We go high in Atlanta and the boy makes his first vlog.

It rains and rains and the boy plays in it.

We make Turkish Coffee with whipped cream and chocolate syrup.

We swim when it doesn't rain.

We rehearse music together, then go to the Songwriter's Club and perform live on stage. 

We have week-long epic Rummy Battles.

Yes, we eat at the Varsity. Duh. "What'll ya have?"

We visit a cousin who works way up high. 

We have breakfast with a friendly comedian.

I practice how to run sound at a Jazz Jam while the girl hears live Jazz for the first time. 

We drive in the rain.