Remember me? I was the CEO of Jedi Mama, Inc. for a while, until I quit blogging for the long holiday weekend.
I think it’s probably safer to say that Hubs is the real CEO around here, because anytime I have a blogging problem that is related to the small fact that computers speak in tongues around me, so that I never understand them, I have to recruit his help. Hubs can interpret the tongues of software, regardless of the dialect they use. Even though he assures me with enormous sighs every single time that “he’s not a blogger, so why would he know what to do,” he ends up solving my problems here on the dashboard, where the blogging magic happens.
So I guess, at best, I’m the vice president.
Or perhaps the secretary, because my typing skills are legendary.
Or even the janitor, because apparently I’m the only living creature who walks upright on two legs in this house who understands how to start the washing machine.
Which, let’s face it, is an accomplishment that I could list on my resume, but it’s not something I actually do a lot of in real life. My piles of dirty clothes can attest to that.
Anyway, we’re back in the real world today. I had to take a shower at a reasonable hour this morning, which translates into BEFORE HUBS LEFT FOR WORK, BECAUSE THEN I WAS GOING TO BE ALONE WITH THING 2, WHICH MEANS NO SHOWER FOR THE DIRTY. Thing 2 could completely demolish a home and launch a rocket in the seven minutes of alone time I need in the shower.
So… our long Thanksgiving weekend was fantastic! It was exactly the right amount of lounging in our pajamas combined with family and friends and marathons of home improvement shows on HGTV, with the occasional hockey game / football game thrown in for good measure.
On Wednesday, we scrubbed house like mad people. Which, come to think of it, we would have been. Cleaning house when Thing 2 lives here is something only crazy people WOULD do. Mam stopped by for a visit on Wednesday afternoon, and when she saw that her people had the vacuum cleaner and the 409 out, she stayed. And she pitched in. She even moved our sofas out from the walls to vacuum behind them, which resulted in the rescue and retrieval of fourteen golf balls, two pacifiers, some small board books and a dust bunny the size of Godzilla.
By Wednesday night, I actually wished that we could just leave town for the holiday, because then NO ONE WOULD BE IN THE HOUSE TO DESTROY IT.
Thursday was Thanksgiving. We got up slowly around here. That means that Thing 2 and I got up at 5:30 together, while the boy and Hubs slept in.
And then, in the name of FAMILY FUN, we hauled Thing 2’s slide indoors from our deck, so that he could race all of his tractors down it. This was good for nearly an hour of squealing fun. It also kept him from voiding out all the hard work we had invested in shaping the house up on Wednesday.
Then, I remembered that HEY! A friend of ours had given us a hand-me-down racetrack from her son last year. We had tucked it away in the back of the basement, waiting for Thing 2 to be old enough to enjoy the benefits of a good car race.
Thanksgiving ’13 was that day.
Our baby was twelve different kinds of happy with those new cars and track. He squealed and jumped around and used a plastic screwdriver to “fix” Lightning McQueen. It was a golden moment in his life.
Since Sister hightailed it out of town to spend Thanksgiving with her husband’s family in Major Thriving Metropolis, we decided to have our holiday meal at our church, with Mam and Pa. A few couples got together and planned to host a traditional Thanksgiving meal at our church, for anyone who wanted to come. We reserved spots; they provided the turkeys, and we brought desserts.
The buffet had nearly a thousand different dishes to choose from, and the church was filled with some of our favorite people. We ate. And then we ate some more. We laughed, we played games, we piled desserts sky high on our plates. We played some more games, we laughed some more, and then we all vowed that we were so full, we were giving up eating until the new year.
It was a fabulous afternoon; we had so much fun.
(Dear Sister, it was okay that you left us behind for Thanksgiving. We partied without you, and it was actually very fun. We still love you.)
We also went to the races.
On Friday night, Hubs and I took the boys to see Santa Claus and the Mrs. Thing 2 was not on his best behavior while we stood in line, because he has always declared standing around to be very boring.
When it was finally our turn to see Santa, he let out a blood curdling scream that shattered glass when I tried to hand him to the bearded fellow. We promptly switched our course of action, and I plopped him down on Mrs. Claus’ lap. She was plum, dadgum happy to take him, and she immediately blessed him with candy canes.
He refused to look at the camera, because CANDY!!
For Christmas, we are giving Santa some new reading glasses, so he can actually see what’s written on his list.
On Saturday, Hubs and his dad installed garage door openers on our garage doors. It’s like we hardly know ourselves any longer. Not only can we PARK CARS IN OUR GARAGE, but we can now open the doors without leaving the heated luxury of our vehicle.
It’s like we’ve MOVED ON UP.
On Saturday night, after hitting the button to the garage doors and just backing right out, we drove twenty miles out to Small Mountain Town to have a late Thanksgiving dinner with Hubs’ family. His mama fixed a turkey with all the trimmings.
We ate and ate and ate.
We ate to the point of regret, in fact.
And then, bless her heart, Hubs’ mama decided that Thing 2 could just… you know… go on ahead and play with the enormous dump truck she bought him FOR CHRISTMAS.
Even though it was just Thanksgiving.
She assured us that she’d just wrap it up for Christmas, and he could open it then and enjoy it again.
Thing 2 found Grammy’s stash of antique pool balls. He used these as his freight. He filled the dump truck with pool balls… drove the dump truck at breakneck speeds all over the house… and dumped the pool balls.
Then he repeated this…
… fourteen thousand and eight times.
(I told you he was on the Naughty List.)
Since the dump truck was working out so well, Grammy went ahead and brought out Thing 2’s CHRISTMAS TRACTOR, so that the boy and Hubs could do SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED. Thing 2 peed in his diaper, he was so excited. He hopped up and down. He squealed. He shouted, “Tractor!” more times than we could count.
Clearly, the good thing about being a year and a half old is that Grammy let’s you see your gifts way ahead of time.
On Sunday, we had more eating to do, because Cousin R was having a birthday brunch at a local restaurant. Even though we had waddled home with full bellies again on Saturday night and sworn that we REALLY WERE giving up food, we ordered pancakes. And eggs. And bacon. And whatever other carb could be slapped onto a plate.
We flat-out adore that Cousin R!
And then the Denver Broncos were polite enough to win for Hubs yesterday afternoon.
So that, people, was our long holiday weekend. We’re pretty much in food-comas around here, but we have plans to dig ourselves out of the carb-overloads we partook of.
After we eat all the leftovers crammed into our refrigerator, of course.
Happy Monday, y’all. Happy Monday.