Well, Monday came, and now we’re all back on a schedule, of some sort.
My schedule today included laundry, more laundry, a trip to the grocery store to pick up everything I forgot at the trip to the grocery store yesterday, scrubbing the dirty hand prints off my bathroom mirror so that I could see myself again tomorrow morning, and more laundry.
Clearly, I lead a glamorous life. Haters gonna hate.
Like the typical Real Housewives of Small Town, USA, I didn’t devote any of my vacation time to washing clothes. Apparently, I assumed our live-in maid would take care of that chore, and then this morning, I realized that she must’ve been on a holiday break, too. That’s the reason I sent Thing 2 to preschool this morning, WITH SNOW PANTS THAT WERE COVERED IN MUD. I kid you not. Hubs picked him up on Tuesday from school, and sent me a text that read, “His snow gear is a muddy mess. Snow melted on playground and they had it dug up to install new swing set. I left it all in the laundry room sink.” What you should know about that text is that it consisted of more words than Hubs usually texts in an entire week.
I actually remembered that text this morning, when I couldn’t find Thing 2’s snow pants, and lo! There they were, hanging over the sink, covered in enough dried mud to make an archeologist busy for a week with his tiny brushes. In other words, we have become THAT FAMILY at the preschool, as my child lost fourteen pounds of dried mud between his cubby and the playground door, after he got himself dressed for recess.
In other news, our Thanksgiving Break was a good one. We were basically ice skating or eating the entire time.
On Wednesday, the cousins wanted to teach Thing 2 to skate. They’re all dedicated skaters and hockey players, which meant I wouldn’t fall on the ice and wind up in a Thanksgiving Hip Replacement Surgery, if I let them be the instructors.
I took my camera to the rink (because of course I did), and then I pretty much forgot my camera everywhere we went for the rest of the weekend.
The girls were so excited to get Thing 2 out on the ice. I snapped this picture when we first arrived at the rink.
Ten minutes after that, they returned to the side of the rink, announcing that their backs had everything in common with a 95 year old woman who had spent her entire life picking cabbages out of fields. I think they were more than happy to turn the challenge of teaching a preschooler to skate over to seventeen-year-old Cousin W, when he arrived on the ice.
Cousin W took a no-nonsense approach to skating. He taught Thing 2 how to get up on his skates by himself, rather than begging for help from passing strangers who skated by. W taught him to take little steps in his skates, which eventually turned into little glides in his skates.
And? Well, when you’ve shown that YES! YOU CAN SKATE ON YOUR OWN, and your cousin is bigger than Chewbaca, he will treat you to Rocket Skating. This involves him picking you up and skating faster than a NASCAR running on rocket fuel.
This is our tribe of kids. They all decided that Thing 2 needed to sign up for hockey, so we showed him the penalty box and said, “Little Buddy, here’s where YOU’LL sit when you play!”
After skating for two hours on Wednesday, the cousins took Thing 2 back to Open Skate on Friday. By Saturday morning, when Thing 2 showed up for the weekly skating lessons we signed him up for, he was a pro. His instructor told us, “Wow! Thing 2 learned to skate this week!” Yes. Yes, he did. He won the skate races his instructor had for them, and took off gliding all over the rink.
Hubs and I have decided that Cousin W should supplement his income by teaching preschoolers to skate himself. And then I decided that W should probably just move in with us. We love him. He’s family. And I think he’d do a right-fine job of being our MANNY. Plus, with any luck at all, he might wash Thing 2’s dirty snow pants more often than I do.
On Wednesday, Hubs decided to brine a turkey.
Doesn’t everyone soak their holiday birds this way? In a bright orange Home Depot bucket? Please don’t tell me that we’re the only family who brines this way!
Shelves cam out of our fridge and spent the next couple of days on our kitchen counter, which is exactly where I enjoy seeing refrigerator shelves. Yogurt and leftover jambalaya and eggs and jams got crammed into any spot they’d fit, because the bird’s brine became the entire focus of the weekend.
And then on Wednesday, guess who turned five?
Cousin H! Thing 2 was not at all happy to hear that she had beat him to five. He kept insisting all day on Wednesday, “It’s not fair that H is five now, and I’m not! She’s the winner, and that means I’m a loser! I don’t like losing at being five!”
The honest truth is, Thing 2 doesn’t like to lose at ANYTHING.
We bought Little H a Barbie, who came with fairy wings AND a mermaid tail. With easy wardrobe changes, she could go from dancing at the ball to swimming with Ariel or flying with Tinkerbell. Thing 2 handed her the gift when we got to her house and announced, “This is your birthday present, but it’s not a very good one.”
Thankfully, H thought otherwise. She was actually quite impressed!
On Thanksgiving, Thing 2 slept in until 7:00 in the morning, because ICE SKATING WORE HIM OUT. This was something of a Thanksgiving Miracle, but here’s what else happened that day: Hubs set the alarm for 5 AM, so he could put that properly-brined turkey on his Traeger.
In other words, there was no rest for the weary mothers.
We had dinner with my family at lunch time. I can’t even begin to list all the carbohydrates that were involved, but suffice it to say that I cherished every last one of them.
Thing 2 managed to eat two bites of turkey, five olives (enough for each finger on one hand) and half of a dinner roll. The end. He was done eating.
Hubs and the boys and I left my sister’s house to drive to Hubs’ brother’s house. It was our second wave of holiday eating. I told Hubs on the way out there, “I can’t do it! I can’t eat anything else! I hate food! I never want to see food again!”
Which is why Hubs and I had nothing to eat there. We simply enjoyed the family time with everyone, as I sipped a glass of punch and washed Thing 2 up, after the wrestling match with Cousin M knocked out his front tooth.
Thing 2 couldn’t be bothered to have anything except a glass of juice at his aunt and uncle’s house. Oh, to be a preschooler on Thanksgiving, when all the food doesn’t interest you at all, because you’d rather be off, playing!
Thankfully, the boy announced, with his sixteen year old appetite, “Well… I plan on eating!” And so he did. He filled another plate high, and blasted right through it.
By 9:30 Thursday night, after we had been home for a while and Thing 2 was sleeping, I looked at Hubs and said, “So… do you think we could call your brother and see if we could drive out for a plate of leftovers now? Because I’m hungry.”
Oh, Thanksgiving! I have such a love / hate relationship with you!
The rest of our weekend was dedicated to waking up at 4:45 on Friday morning, to see if the Tooth Fairy had come overnight, ice skating, seeing Santa Claus (Thing 2 asked for a toy train, because he only has three hundred of them right now, an airplane, and a gun that shoots real fire), hanging out downtown one night with friends, where the boys got to ride a train, and venturing off to the theater to see the new movie Moana.
Halfway through Moana, Thing 2, who had been sitting on his knees, fell through the back of his seat, got stuck (!!!), and let the entire audience know that his light-up cowboy boots had fallen off and he didn’t want his legs cut off to get him out. Meanwhile, I had to invest every arm muscle I had to pull him OUT of the seat, as his legs were on the floor in the row behind us, while his upper body was sticking out of the chair in our row. Good times.
God bless the energetic four year olds everywhere.
And now… here it is… Monday already.
We hope your Thanksgiving vacations were as family-filled as ours was.