We had a little trouble getting our groove back and entering our Monday Mode this morning.
The boys decided that loafing around in our bed with cartoons on the iPad was ever-so-very-much preferable to actually getting ready for school and eating breakfast.
The kids just had a half day of school on Friday, so Hubs and I let the boy play hookey, so that he could go visit Pa at the hospital. (My dad had just had a cancerous tumor taken out of his bladder on Thursday.)
My time at the hospital involved walking a marathon with Thing 2 up and down the hallways, and around and around the sidewalks outside in the hospital’s courtyard, so that he would quit pushing all the buttons and unplugging all the cords in Pa’s room.
We also bought a toy four-wheeler in the hospital’s gift shop, which is the size of a Matchbox car, but it’s a generic brand. It also set me back five entire dollars, even though it probably consists of twenty-cents’ worth of plastic. We also bought a three-dollar package of M&Ms. It was exactly like buying concessions at the ball game… just without the actual ball game. But… you should never underestimate the power of a
cheap expensive toy four-wheeler and a handful of M&Ms to keep a toddler quiet while a doctor is explaining things.
Our Saturday morning looked much the same, because Pa was STILL in the hospital. We had Starbucks and walked some more hallways and visited the courtyard AGAIN. Sometime around noon, the doctor granted parole to Pa. His paperwork was stamped. He traded his backless hospital gown for real clothes, and he got to go home.
Hubs and I decided to let him go home and rest in peace… without the company of a toddler. However, we decided that we didn’t really need to rest ourselves, so we went into Walmart on the day before Easter.
It was exactly like being in Times Square for New Year’s Eve, as far as ALL THE PEOPLE went, but there was no champagne for a successful shopping trip or confetti or party horns.
On Saturday evening, we ended up with ten boys running wild in our yard, as the boy hosted an airsoft war with the neighborhood children. Sister’s son, Cousin K, had been dreaming of the day that he would be included in a gun fight with the big boys, even though he’s just eight. Saturday was the day he hit the jackpot. The boy called Cousin K up and told him to bring his gun and a face shield. Our yards sounded exactly like the Civil War was going down… just with automatic weapons and green, plastic pellets flying everywhere.
While the boys were outside sweating profusely and shooting the snot out of one another, Sister and Hubs and I sat inside our house. Sister’s eleven-year-old daughter, L, took Thing 2 out onto our deck to play, and… ALTHOUGH WE COULD DEFINITELY HEAR ALL THE CHILDREN… there were no children around us! We had adult conversations that didn’t get interrupted, and THAT, people, is why I never even bothered to get up off my sofa and snap any pictures of ten boys ambushing one another outside or Cousin L and Thing 2 playing goofy games on the deck, out of the line of fire.
The Easter baskets arrived on our fireplace sometime before 9 pm on Saturday night. I did snap a picture of them, and believe me! I’m glad I did!
On Sunday morning, before I could even get out of bed and grab my camera, Thing 2 ran like a bullet into our living room, squealed with excitement over his new Easter tractor, dumped his basket upside down in one fell swoop, and took off for the kitchen, demanding scissors to cut the trains and farm equipment out of their packaging.
This will go down as the year that Mama got ZERO-POINT-ZERO snapshots of the boys finding their Easter baskets.
And then… while I was trying to find my glasses and my camera… Thing 2 grabbed the boy’s Easter basket (which was less exciting, because NO JOHN DEERE INVOLVED). That basket got upended, too, and the Cadbury eggs were found.
Also… there aren’t any pictures of the boy on Easter morning, because we couldn’t get him OUT OF THE BED! An evening war will wear a young teenager plum out.
Grammy bought a three-piece suit for Thing 2 for his birthday, back in March. I saved it for an Easter debut, because I don’t have any daughters that I get to buy fancy, frilly Easter dresses for.
Afterward, we came home and made quesadillas, because nothing shouts out, “Happy Easter,” like a little homemade Mexican food.
We followed that by some naps, and then we headed out to Small Mountain Town, which is just twenty miles away, to have Easter dinner with Grammy and Papa and Hubs’ sister, Aunt Pink.
Aunt Pink hid eggs for Thing 2 to find. For the first time ever, the boy passed on an egg hunt.
Thirteen is going to kill me, because my firstborn is TOO OLD FOR EGG HUNTS NOW!
Thankfully, Hubs’ mama also made a smoked ham, potatoes, hot rolls, deviled eggs and all the traditional trimmings for an Easter dinner. I was powerfully thankful, because purple suckers have never been a favorite of mine.
(Seriously… my teenager is kind of handsome, isn’t he? I know I’m his mama and all, but I think he’s pretty stinking adorable. Except… maybe thirteen-year-old boys don’t like to be called adorable.)
I also happen to think my two-year-old is flat-out adorable. Hubs and I ended up with the two cutest boys, this side of the Mississippi River.
We all went to bed, because EXHAUSTED.
I slept so hard, I dreamed that I had an entire herd of cats who were pooping all over my house… piles and piles and PI-UHLS of the stuff.
And when I woke up, it was Monday morning, and I can’t even begin to tell you how dadgum relieved I was that I didn’t own forty-six cats with poor bathroom habits.
But, because I have horrible laundry habits, and because Hubs announced that he was going to start wearing an avalanche radio every single time he went into our walk-in closet (He was thinking ahead, he said, because he wanted to be able to transmit a signal for a rescue, in case the pile of dirty clothes fell over on him.), I spent the entire day running our washer and dryer at the speed of a space shuttle.
There will be no more complaints of I HAVE NO CLEAN SOCKS and THIS IS THE PAIR OF BOXERS I WAS SAVING FOR THE APOCALYPSE, BECAUSE I HATE THEM SO BADLY.
The laundry is done.
Y’all have a merry Monday night.