The Weekend Where I Slept

No matter how the final hours of this weekend pan out, I will put it to bed with this victory:  Yesterday I picked up our Halloween pumpkin, which the fraternity of squirrels in our neighborhood gathered ’round to feast upon weeks ago, and which has been snowed on twice now and frozen pretty much solid, and I threw it in the dumpster.  I know that I really should have walked it across the street to the green waste dumpster at the park, but whatever.  I didn’t have the stamina to carry my frozen pumpkin with the rotting stem that far, and risk having it just explode and spill its gangrene guts all over my shoes.  And let’s face it… If I haven’t been able to carry my pumpkin one hundred yards to the green waste dumpster in the past month, I figured it wasn’t going to happen yesterday, either.  It is nestled in with the Hefty garbage bags in our family’s dumpster, where it is quietly waiting for the garbage truck to come by in the morning.

I feel like this little victory was very likely the high point of our winter, so far.

Don’t judge us.

While other folks have been out, balancing precariously on ladders and hanging Christmas lights off of their gutters, we’ve been over here, hoping guests don’t realize that YES!  THAT’S STILL A HALLOWEEN PUMPKIN SITTING BESIDE OUR FRONT DOOR.  Everything else that happened over the weekend was just icing on the Pumpkin Pitching Cake.

Yesterday, I got up with Thing 2 at 5:30 in the morning, because our babe has no concept of YOUR PARENTS WOULD LIKE TO SLEEP.  And also, FOR THE LOVE!  By the time Hubs rolled out of bed at 8:00, Thing 2 was basically ready for lunch.  He and I had watched some TV shows together, practiced writing his alphabet, done a few pages in his preschool workbook, made oatmeal, and plowed through a cup of hot tea, because we were out of coffee.  I can’t even tell you the horrors of getting up at 5:30 on a Saturday morning with the four-year-old, only to realize that THE COFFEE WAS WIPED OUT ON FRIDAY.

Clearly, I need to speak to the live-in maid that we don’t have about being more diligent with her grocery-fetching.

At 8:00, when Hubs waltzed out of the bedroom, all refreshed like a college boy sleeping in over Christmas Break at his parents’ house, I announced that I was heading to the bathroom to shower.  Sadly, I didn’t make it to the bathroom.  As I strolled past my bed, I realized that YES, GLADYS!  I’M EXHAUSTED.  I laid down…

… and woke up at 11:10 yesterday morning.

I’ve tried to feel some shame about that, because the last time I slept in until 11:10 in the morning was NEVER, but I can’t.  Thing 2 has been awake in the middle of the night too many times lately, and he never sleeps past 5:30 in the mornings.  I felt like I had done my time in the trenches of Very Little Sleep.

Of course, when you get back out of bed at 11:10 in the morning, and you have to be at ice skating lessons by 12:30, you tend to RUSH, RUSH, RUSH.  Thankfully, we made it.  Thing 2 was adorned in his skates and helmet and ready to take the ice at exactly 12:29.

The weekend victories were many.

Thing 2 has learned to skate.  As in, he now skates with a speed that can rival any Olympic speed skater and break the sound barrier.  This is not really the best thing for his preschool skating lessons, because, while the other three-, four-, and five-year-olds took to the ice to learn how to get themselves up when they fall down and how to take little baby steps in their skates to make forward progress, Thing 2 LEFT his class and took off.  He bent low at the waist, used his power arms, and started skating laps around the rink, exactly like he was on the high school hockey team.

His teacher caught him around the waist, and brought him back to the class.

He took off a second time.

His teacher managed to snag him again, and redirect him to class, where he was to TAKE SOME BABY STEPS and WHAT IS THIS BUSINESS OF ALREADY KNOWING HOW TO SKATE?

By the third time our child left his class, his skating instructor just let him go.  He did his own thing, skating hither and yon like he’d been fired from a rocket launcher, until his teacher lined the class up against one wall of the rink for the weekly skate races.  Thing 2 returned to his class on his own, pushed his back against the wall, waited for the GO signal, and boom!

He was at the opposite side of the rink before anyone else was a quarter way across the width of the ice.

By the time his thirty-minute class was over, Hubs and I decided that we may need to enroll him in a class for the more-advanced skater, thanks to Cousin W showing our kid how to glide on the ice.

Thing 2 and the boy, along with a pack of the boy’s friends, all stayed for Open Skate right after the lessons finished, where Thing 2 got to let loose and skate like he wanted to.

By the time we pulled him off the ice, he was starving.  We hit Taco Bell for a quick lunch, and Thing 2 ate FOUR AND A HALF TACOS AND AN ORDER OF TORTILLA CHIPS.  Apparently, appetites are created during intense skating workouts.

After lunch, we all went to a little birthday party for our darling friend, Vivian.  She turned four on Saturday.  The party shook down at the local rec center’s indoor playland, where Thing 2 ran sixty-four miles, before he snarfed a slice of cake right off his plate in three bites, exactly like he was a golden lab scrounging cake at a kid’s party.

We may not be able to afford to feed him any longer.

Thankfully, by the time Saturday night rolled around, everyone was tired.  And by EVERYONE, I mean Thing 2.  We hung out with pizza and our boys at our house, watching our beloved College Town football team play in a championship game, which they lost.  By 9:00, Hubs and I called it a night.  The boy, being sixteen, believes it’s a sin to go to bed before midnight.  He would never have been able to look his peers in the eyes tomorrow morning, if any of them found out he’d gone to bed at 9:00, when his folks did.

And then, after our early-to-bed-like-the-elderly-folks-we-are kind of Saturday night, I woke up at 3:00 this morning.  By the time Thing 2 got up at 6:30 (Praises!  He slept in after wearing himself out yesterday!), I was STILL.  AWAKE.


Completely.  Still.  Awake.

So, when Hubs rolled out of bed at 7:45 this morning, exactly like a teenager, I did what I am apparently accustomed to doing these days:  I went straight back to bed and passed out cold.

I slept through Hubs getting himself and the boys ready for church.

I slept through Hubs taking himself and the boys to church.

I slept through Hubs taking himself and the boys to Walmart for necessities, like coffee.

I slept like I’d been gifted with IV anesthesia.

I slept until they all came back home, at 11:00 this morning.

I think this simply shows that Hubs was a lot more responsible than I was today, especially since I never even bothered to shower or get out of my pajamas this afternoon.

But!  Regardless, that rotted Halloween pumpkin IS IN THE DUMPSTER.  It’s almost as good as sticking a water bottle on the flip!

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