Have you ever taken an Ambien with a glass of red wine?
I haven’t, because that’s just a lot of sleep power. Even for me. But I guarantee that this blog post is going to make you feel exactly like you’ve swallowed a prescription sleep aide with an alcoholic chaser, because I don’t have anything exciting to write about.
Our weekend was just that interesting.
In fact, I can barely even remember Friday night, but I do know that the boy went to the movie with Enzo, and then he packed a bag and stayed at Enzo’s house overnight. Meanwhile, with the energy of arthritic octogenarians, Hubs and I stayed home, put Thing 2 to bed at 7:00, and one of us was in bed by 8:30, while the other one of us fell asleep in front of the TV in the living room.
It was one of those nights when we didn’t even bother to plug in the disco ball.
On Saturday, there were errands. I even wrote some checks to pay some bills, because debtors’ prison doesn’t appeal to me at all. The boy went to a birthday party, and we had leftover pizza with Sister and Sister’s Husband.
Nothing spells out, “You’re family,” like pulling cold pizza boxes out of your fridge and asking someone if they’d like to stay for dinner.
Yesterday was a fantastic sixty degrees. I had hopes that Spring was just a couple of inches away from us. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and I wanted to bring our deck chairs out of storage and throw a barbecue for people.
(With our without leftover pizza; it didn’t even matter.)
Today, as can only happen in Small Town, USA, winter returned with the fury of a junior high girl who thinks she’s been betrayed. We’ve had snow and wind, wind and snow. We’ve had some rain and some ugliness outside, and the mercury in the thermometers needed a winter jacket to pull itself above fifteen degrees.
Which could explain why I watched an episode of House Hunters, where the couple was searching for a home in Key West, even though I emphatically declare all the time that House Hunters is one of my least favorite shows, because NO ONE REMODELS AND SHOWS ME ENDING GRANDNESS. But, with our fireplace blazing, I couldn’t get past the part of ALL THE SUNSHINE in Key West, when Small Town looked like that Christmas Eve when Santa almost cancelled Christmas, until he discovered that Rudolph’s nose could light the way through the blizzard.
So… that was our weekend. Try to contain your jealousies.
But I do have a few snapshots to show you, which is more interesting than these written paragraphs, times infinity.
Thing 2 helped the boy with his advanced math homework last Thursday night. I snapped this picture just as our toddler pointed out, “You didn’t carry the one right here, Bubbie.”
Hubs did bring home pizza on Friday night, because that’s what young, trendy folks do. Actually, they probably go for sushi and stop by The Club afterward, but we were pretending that we were young and hip and on a budget.
Cheese pizza is Thing 2’s favorite meal. If you look closely, you can still see half of his dinner on his face.
When you think that your firstborn is going to be your only child, forever and ever, you don’t save very many clothing items. Hefty garbage sacks full of jeans with holes in the knees aren’t really something you need to store in your basement. We always passed what the boy outgrew to Sister, for Cousin K, and then she found homes for them when K was finished with the T-shirts.
But, look! We did save a hat. Hubs’ dad brought this cap home from an Avalanche hockey game that he’d gone to, when the boy was four years old. He gave it to the boy as a gift. The boy always referred to his Colorado Avalanche hat as “the hat Papa gave him,” which eventually was shortened to “my Papa hat.”
THAT is what everyone in our family called the black Avs cap: The Papa Hat.
The boy wore his Papa hat everywhere when he was four… and when he was five… and even when he was six. Hubs and I could barely stand it when it was officially too small, because life had been lived, and lived well, in that hat. It had a lot of miles on it.
So… we saved it.
This is the boy in his Papa hat, when he was a chubby-cheeked four-year-old:
I’m pretty sure that Hubs summed up the content of both of our hearts, while we were driving with Thing 2 in his carseat on Saturday. He said, “Man! I LOVE seeing him in that hat. It’s good to have it back in use!”
And guess what else the toddler fit into this weekend?
A very small box. He squished himself in there this morning and hollered, “Car! Car!” And then he pretended to drive it.
I think it was probably a Smart Car.
And THAT, folks, was the entire extent of our weekend. Y’all have a merry Sunday night, and do try to stay warm.
I saw on House Hunters that you can snag a cozy beach cottage in Key West, where WINTER NEVER SETTLES IN, for a cool $1.3 million.