It Was A Lot Of Weekend

Is it already Sunday night?

Because we have had ourselves a great little weekend, and I am sad to see it go.  Especially considering that tomorrow afternoon I have to drive the boy to Bigger Town, USA to have molds made of his teeth, so that he can get a mouthful of metal next week.  I also have to sign up for the YES, WE PROMISE TO PAY YOU plan at the orthodontist’s office, which basically involves me signing over my boys and central vacuum cleaner and left arm as collateral.

(I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it or not, but my central vacuum cleaner may be my favorite thing in my house.)

(Which clearly shouts OLD LADY ON BOARD, because what girl in her twenties ever gets a warm feeling in her heart over a home appliance?)

(For the record?  I don’t have the same love for my stainless steel refrigerator, because it’s a side-by-side.  And, when we built this house, I was head over heels in love with side-by-sides, but that was before I was introduced to the refrigerator with the freezer ON THE BOTTOM, and double doors on the top.  So now I have a new crush on kitchen appliances.)


On Friday, Thing 2 had some energy to unleash.  That’s code for, “I don’t care how long you rock me with my favorite blanket, Lady; I will not take an afternoon nap for you.”  So, Sister and I took The Littles to an indoor playland at our local rec center.  Thing 2 attacked the playland like a rat on a Cheeto.  He ran and jumped and tumbled and climbed and slid, until he was a sweaty, happy mess.  He also fell off of one of the landings and tumbled down the padded climbing ramp that goes upward.  Another mother gasped in horror, as she said, “HE FELL!  HE FELL ALL THE WAY DOWN!  HE FELLLLLLL!!!”  And I simply sat there, cool as a cucumber, and said, “I think he’s okay.”  I made no move to cross the playland for a medical assessment.  Thing 2 stood back up, looked around, and then immediately began clapping for himself with an enormous smile plastered on his face.  I’m pretty sure he was looking for his score from the judges.  I heard him say to himself, “Well.  I’m pretty sure that’ll just bring in a 9, because I didn’t stick the landing quite like I wanted to.”

Little H balances out Thing 2.  While he plows into the playland like a bull smashing a china hutch, Little H checks things out cautiously and proceeds only when she deems an area to be safe.  I wish some of her common sense would wear off on Thing 2, because he’ll be the one who skydives and rides bulls at the county rodeo.

Sister and I would really like to know what this conversation between The Littles was all about.  We suspect that Thing 2 was telling her to just GO ON AHEAD AND JUMP FROM THE HIGHEST PLATFORM, BECAUSE EVERYTHING’S PADDED IN HERE, while Little H was informing him that he should see his pediatrician for some brain-calming medication.

Sister and I did make every effort to get a good shot of The Littles together.  Sadly, The Littles rarely cooperate for group pictures.

I think this is the part of our playtime when H told Thing 2, “Quit asking me!  I am NOT jumping from the top of this playground!  Kids who do that break their collarbones.  I swear, you’re the craziest cousin I have, and I wish your mama would put a leash on you!”

And that shot is where Thing 2 told H, “You know, with some white face paint and some black flames and stars around your eyes, you could be Gene Simmons for Halloween.  You could bring Kiss back, Girl.”

Sometimes Hubs and I have to talk to Thing 2 about his manners.

Specifically that he should actually get some.

And then, after the playland, the angels sang a chorus of HALLELUJAHS, because Thing 2’s new carseat arrived on our doorstep.  The UPS man manhandled the giant box up our steep driveway.  I was seven kinds of happy, because strapping Thing 2 into his infant seat is like tying a rhinoceros up in a highchair.

Hubs secured the seat in our Suburban, and the four of us went for a CARSEAT DEBUT ride.  Thing 2 was more serious than any of us have EVER seen him.  He was stunned that there was a world to be seen out the front windshield of the Suburban.

The verdict is that Thing 2 is quite impressed with his new carseat and the fact that he gets to FACE FORWARD.  He was so impressed, in fact, he used his very best manners so that we wouldn’t take the carseat throne away from him.

On Saturday, Cousin B called the boy and asked, “Hey, do you want to go golfing?”  The boy pretty much jumped all over our kitchen like a kangaroo on a Mountain Dew high.  He has been waiting for the golf courses to open around here much like he waits for Christmas.

That would be IMPATIENTLY.

I think I need to pause here to write a quick letter.

Dear Under Armour,

You’d think with all the free advertising the boy and Cousin B do for you, you’d approach them about golf sponsorships.  Throwing in some free merchandise would be the icing on their cake.  As mothers, my sister-in-law and I would appreciate free merchandise in exchange for free advertising, too, because B is already wearing braces, and the boy gets them next week.  We can barely afford Ramen noodles and air for dinner.



Cousin B bombed his first drive of the season, so he simply threw another golf ball onto his tee and yelled out, “Do over!”  That pretty much set the standards for yesterday’s game, because the boy’s very first drive of the season broke so far left, it nearly came back to him like a boomerang.  He simply got a second ball out of his bag and hollered, “And another stab at this for me, too!”

Thing 2 and I left the boys after they teed off, because walking a golf course with that baby is the kind of stuff nightmares are made of.

Thing 2, though, was thrilled to find some snow near the clubhouse.  Only in Small Town, USA do our golf courses open up with patches of snow still on the ground.  Our friends in Texas would shake their heads and say, “If there’s still snow on the ground, make some chili, hunker down in front of the fire, and wait for summer to go golfing!”

Poor Texans.  They don’t know what to do with a little snow.

I picked the boys up two hours later, and they informed me that the first three holes were “practice holes,” because it took them that long to get the rust off of their first game of the season.

And then they said, “We’ll bet you ice cream from the Dairy Queen that we can both smack a ball over 150 yards at the driving range!”

Which is how I came to be in the drive-thru, ordering blizzards, twenty minutes later.

I should have bet the ice cream when they first teed off for their game, when they both called out, “Do over!”

On Saturday night, we had a potluck dinner with a bunch of our friends at our church, because Jeff and Katie are moving to Alaska.  Apparently, they’re not really ready for spring yet, so they thought they’d move further North and get in on some continual winter action.

I am not thrilled about this.

You know, what with Katie being the sweetest thing ever, and her son Gunnar being Thing 2’s BFF.

Thing 2 was overwhelmed with all the cool stuff that was offered at the potluck.

Bread pudding turned out to be his very favorite.

I took a lot of pictures at the party.  I took a lot of pictures of kids… and of grownups… and of great groups of people.

Like this one…

When I got home and started looking at them, guess who I don’t have pictures of?

Well, that would be Katie.  Clearly, I avoided her with the camera subconsciously, because I am in denial about her moving away.  So, I had to scrounge to find some shots of her.

This is the best I came up with.

Dear Katie,

I do apologize.  Apparently I thought your hair wasn’t quite right or something, because I have a lot of photos without you.  I am also not at all excited about you leaving.  Alaska is dark.  Alaska is cold.  What if you have to live in an igloo?  And who will drink enormously tall Starbucks drinks with me while we watch cheesy movies late into the night on your sofa?  And who else will have deer poop in her yard for Thing 2 to pick up and squish between his fingers?



I did get snapshots of Jeff…

And Jeff and Katie’s three adorable boys… just none of Katie.  Oops.

I tried to buy all three boys, as a package deal, at Jeff and Katie’s moving sale on Saturday morning.

They wanted a lot of dollars for those boys, and Jeff is a professional barterer.  I couldn’t talk him down, and I’ve got braces to buy.

Thing 2 did some hoola-hooping at the party, too.

The boy played some serious foosball.

Thing 2 and Gunnar wrestled and had a ball together.

Our friend, Sam, even swiped my camera for a bit.  He didn’t even take pictures of Katie.  But, he did get a group shot of me, with Katie C. (who is NOT moving to Alaska) and Christa.

We had the best time discussing the fact that we actually look better these days when we pull the skin by our eyeballs backwards.  I’m not sure when this happened.

We also discussed the fact that we can’t remember anything any longer, and that sometimes, when we get babysitters, we just like to go to Walmart alone, to shop without children.

My twenty-two year-old-self just curled up and died a little.

And look at these cuties!

Do you know why God didn’t give me daughters?  It’s because I would have broken the bank shopping at Gymboree for them.  So, I live vicariously through these adorable honeys.  I love them!

This morning, before church, the boy tied a dishtowel around Thing 2’s shoulders to serve as his superhero cape.  Thing 2, being true to his Y chromosome, LOVED IT.  He walked taller with his cape on.  He knew he was fully capable of saving distressed women from peril.

Today, there was church.  Thing 2 looked so adorable in his sweater (which was a hand-me-down from Gunnar) that I attempted a little photo shoot with him.

He was very cooperative.  He sat very still and smiled politely.

Mmm hmm.  Whatever.

And then this afternoon, the boy went swimming with his friend, Gage.  (I didn’t go, so there are no photos.  The Canon got to take a break from all the hard work it’s been doing lately.)

I also made some half-hearted efforts to clean up our house.  (We sort of look like the Seven Dwarfs live here, and I keep waiting for Snow White to show up to do some housework.)

And that, people, was our weekend.  We have to have Monday come, so we can rest!

Y’all have a great Sunday evening.

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