While many of our friends were enjoying the long Labor Day weekend as God intended for it to be enjoyed, by loading up their families and their dogs, and packing hot dogs and graham crackers and marshmallows into tiny camper kitchens, so that they could squeeze one more camping trip out of the season, we stayed home.
Because do you know what everyone’s dream Labor Day weekend plans involve?
Cleaning up toddler diarrhea.
You’re welcome for that visual.
Thing 2 woke up at 4:15 on Friday morning with a belly that sounded like a witch had a good brew bubbling in her cauldron. Before I could even focus on YES, IT’S 4:15 IN THE MORNING, the volcano erupted, and I felt like an unsuspecting citizen of Pompeii.
In other words, I had no idea what was about to hit me.
I spent Friday running out of paper towels and Clorox wipes and pull-ups, until the cavalry had to be called, because LO! WE DESPERATELY NEEDED SOME CLEANING SUPPLIES BY MID-AFTERNOON. Thankfully, Grammy takes calls like these very seriously. She stopped at Walmart for us, and we now have enough paper towels and Clorox wipes to see us through an apocalyptic lockdown.
Thing 2 was happy as a clam all day, and you would never have known he was battling a stomach bug… except for the sounds of a small pig birthing a 747 that came forth from his backside every fifteen minutes.
In other words, it was exactly how housewives everywhere had pinned holiday ideas, when it came to WHAT TO DO THIS LABOR DAY WEEKEND.
I’ve always considered soda to be a luxury at our house for the boys, which is a fancy way of saying I NEVER BUY THE STUFF. When a two-liter bottle of 7-Up arrived at our house to see if it could settle the raging belly and keep the baby hydrated, Thing 2 was impressed. His heart was filled with joy, as he exclaimed, “We get pop?!”
The belly bug lasted through Saturday morning, when Thing 2 woke up at 4:00 on the nose and proclaimed from his bedroom doorway across the dark house, “I’ve had diarrhea everywhere again!” By 5:30 on Saturday morning, we had seen the very last pull-up change because GLORY, GLORY, HALLELUJAH! We had survived, and we’d come out on the opposite side of the diarrhea as victors.
With the giant bottle of 7-Up still in our refrigerator, Thing 2 announced loudly on Saturday afternoon (and all day Sunday… and all day Monday… and even this morning) that he NEEDED some pop… because HE HAD A STOMACH ACHE. There was no arguing with him. The little con man employed the Belly Bug technique to acquire soda.
While Hubs and the boy met a pack of friends at the Small Town High School football game, I stayed home with Thing 2 and his explosions.
And then, if you’re keeping track, Thing 2 woke up at 4:15, 4:00, 4:50 and 4:10 between Friday and Monday mornings. Hubs and I began looking online for military schools that offered a preschool program and required the children to stay in dorms on the premises.
By 5:30 Saturday morning, our quarantine was lifted. Later that morning (at a more respectable hour), we dropped the boy and one of his friends off at the golf course to play a game, and Hubs and I took our toddler thirty miles down the interstate to Smaller Town, USA for sub sandwiches at Hubs’ favorite sandwich shop in the entire kingdom.
It was closed when we got there, even though the sign clearly stated that it was open between 11 am and 4 pm on Saturdays.
I thought Hubs was going to need grief counseling to deal with the loss of the sub sandwich he’d been dreaming of all morning.
We ended up at another little diner, and then we came home, where we found out the boy would be staying at the golf course even longer, because he’d discovered a free hitting clinic he could attend.
I think the term you’re looking for is DIE HARD.
The rest of our weekend was spent with friends and church… with family barbecues and birthday parties… with homework and grocery-fetching… and painting.
I took the boy and Cousin K to a little paint shop in town, where a local artist walks a class through all the steps to create a masterpiece on canvas. They serve wine there, which helps non-artistic people like me get through all the steps.
The boys had a ball, and they ended up with a couple of cute paintings to hang at home.
After four mornings of waking up in the dadgum middle of the night, guess WHO SLEPT IN THIS MORNING? Guess who went to bed last night early and decided to sleep for eleven and a half straight hours? Guess who Hubs wanted to throw cold water on at 5:30 this morning, when we HAD to be up, getting ready to drive the boy across town to catch his leaves-at-dawn bus?
It was Thing 2, who slept in until 6:40 this morning.
Bless his heart.
The boy did fantastically well at his golf tournament today. I didn’t get a chance to go over to Smaller Town to watch him, but he assured me that he’d eaten a submarine sandwich at Hubs’ favorite sandwich shop, because it was open today.
Shh. We won’t tell Hubs that little bit of information.
Since I didn’t get to snap pictures of the boy golfing today, I’ll show you some from his tournament last week, which was here in town. Hubs and Thing 2 and I hung out with friends at the clubhouse for quite a bit of the morning, hoping to see the boy come in and golf one of the nearby holes.
When he did, the paparazzi was there to snap some photos.
I hope yours was equally as wonderful, with a lot less of the mess.