There are those girls in this world who will look at a second bowl of ice cream and say, “I’d better not.”
Apparently, I am not one of those girls.
Hubs’ parents had us out to their house for dinner tonight. We made homemade ice cream. (And by we, I mean pretty much everyone except me. I didn’t mix the cream and the peaches together; I didn’t take a turn at the handle. But I clapped loudly for everyone who did have a moment as the churner.) Before the ice cream, we had grilled steaks and smashed potatoes. There was watermelon and garlic bread. And then we had the ice cream.
I was good after the first bowl.
And then I said the words that made history: “I’ll probably live to regret this, but I’m having a second bowl of peach ice cream.” Because do you know what? I think baby angels themselves showered love on that ice cream maker while the handle was turning.
Hands down, I’ve NEVER had better ice cream.
It was probably something about FIVE CUPS OF HEAVY WHIPPING CREAM and THESE ARE FRESH PEACHES BOUGHT OFF A TRUCK FROM PEACHLAND.
Right now, I need to go lay down somewhere, much like a beached whale would do, and try to breathe, as best I can when I can’t fully inflate my lungs due to all the ice cream in my gut.
But… MY WORD! It was delicious.
So I have to be quick tonight. I’m struggling with the upright position here at the desk. I might have to float in a pool of water tonight to take some of the pressure off my gut.
Our weekend was good.
Thing 2 learned to climb out of his crib on Friday.
He also learned to shove the baby gate at the top of our stairs out of the way on Friday, so that he surfed the gate down seventeen steps and landed at the bottom.
He continues to gag himself, threaten to spray barf everywhere, and laugh.
So there was all of that this weekend.
On Friday, the boy had a couple of friends over, for a last shout-out to summer vacation. We had to get down to business on Friday morning, though, because the boys needed to shove some stuff into their lockers, so they wouldn’t be seen actually carrying all those school supplies into the building on Tuesday morning, when classes start.
Kellen offered to pack Thing 2, which left the boy packing locker crates full of everyone’s school supplies. In truth, Thing 2 probably weighs double what those plastic crates weigh.
After the lockers were packed with brand new pencils and empty notebooks, the boys came home and burned their brain cells up with video games, because they knew that school would be starting on Tuesday morning, and they’d need to remember their times tables and memorize the presidents.
I can’t even remember what we did on Saturday, so obviously it was a big adventure.
This morning, there was church. Since Thing 2 was spit-shined, I decided to snap some pictures of him BEFORE he covered himself in dirt and grime and slop.
Mine lasted two entire hours, and I dreamed that I was pushing a baby’s highchair on a very busy street in a very large city. No drugs were involved before I laid down for my nap, either.
And then we went to Grammy and Papa’s house for dinner and tractor rides and homemade ice cream. I didn’t take my camera with me, which I regretted.
Much like I regretted that second bowl of peach ice cream.
What I did have was my iPhone, and what I’m not in love with is the camera on my iPhone. It delivers sub-par pictures at its best, and blurry images that look like I was trying to catch Sasquatch on film at the worst.
(Because we all know… Sasquatch emits static electricity from his fur coat that interferes with photography, which is why no one every snags a clear picture of him.)
I’m off to bed, where I’m hoping I can recover from my poor dessert decisions.
(But we all know… given the choice again… I’d probably still have that second bowl of ice cream. It was just THAT GOOD tonight. Ben and Jerry have NOTHING on the homemade peach kind.)