I am already in my yoga pants, and it’s not even 6 PM. My hair is on top of my head in some kind of scrunchy topknot that screams out, “I COULD USE THE HELP OF A GOOD SALON!” My slippers are on. Thing 2 and I have the house to ourselves at the moment, because Hubs took the boy and the cute neighbor boy to see the new Batman movie this afternoon, because Mama is not at all interested in Batman.
Ironman? Yes. And indeed. I may have the tiniest crush on Ironman. And even on Captain America. But Batman? Not so much. I think it’s because our previous house was home to an entire family of little brown bats, who had taken up residency in our attic crawlspace for generations, and, on occasion, Grandpa Bat would eat too many mosquitoes who had been munching on the folks hitting the Pabst Blue Ribbon hard down the block, and he’d get all cocky and say, “THIS, MY SON, IS HOW YOU GET INTO THE HOUSE AND TERRORIZE THE WOMAN UNTIL SHE CRIES.” And then Hubs would have to catch the half-drunk Grandpa Bat, while I stood in the hallway and hollered like a banshee, and throw his little caboose back outside, as he shouted, “And let that be a lesson to all the bat generations!”
Or something like that.
And because we caught Grandfather too many times to count in our old house, I have never been a fan of all the bat-ness.
So on and so forth.
This post is going to be quick and dirty, because Thing 2 is full of the giggles, and we’re going to go play before he caps out at 7:30 and needs a bottle and his bassinet. And honestly? I may cap out at 7:30 tonight, too, and crawl into bed early myself.
So… Our weekend.
Our weekend started on Friday, like most weekends do. The boy and his cousin, B, decided that they’d go golf nine holes on Friday afternoon, so I picked B up and dropped them off at one of the local golf courses. As luck would have it, I had my camera in the Suburban, so I popped off a few snapshots of them practicing their putting and teeing off at the first hole.
Mmm. I love these boys!
“Hey, Ma? I think we only have six jars of sweet potatoes in the pantry and two more jars of pears. Shouldn’t we stock up? What if there’s a storm, Ma, and we can’t get to the grocery store? I’d like to be a little more prepared. Don’t you think we should be more prepared, Ma? You know? Just in case?”
Thing 2 is always thinking about food.
The boys called me from the golf course late that afternoon and said, “It’s roughly the temperature of the sun’s surface outside. We have sweat marks on our shirts! So we gave up after six holes and went to the clubhouse for cheeseburgers, and now we need a ride.”
When I picked them up, they both immediately jumped in to tell me all about their golf game. The boy said, “I golfed fantastic, Mom, except for Hole 3, when I lost 7 of my golf balls in the water!” And then they both erupted into outrageous fits of giggles, as the boy declared, “I’ll never make it to the Open losing balls in the pond like that!”
I asked them what their scores were, and B said, “We were actually laughing too hard to keep score, and it was too hot, anyway. But we both golfed great, except for all those balls on Hole 3.” And then they laughed even harder.
On Saturday, Hubs’ dad came over, and the two of them, along with the boy, set about working on our Great Retaining Wall of China. It was even hotter on Saturday than it was on Friday. I think it was roughly 328 degrees outside, with 700% humidity. The guys worked and worked and worked, and Hubs sweated enough to lose eighteen pounds.
That’s what happens when you’re not burdened down with all the estrogen. You sweat a little bit, and you drop a dress size.
The Great Retaining Wall is finally starting to take some shape.
While all the building was going on outside, I did laundry and kept an eye on Thing 2.
Eventually, the boy came back inside, because the British Open was on TV, and he laid in a sweaty heap on the family room floor and watched televised golf for two hours.
For the record, televised golf is only one step more exciting than televised fishing.
This morning, Hubs’ friend, Greg, showed up with a tractor to move some dirt from the wall, and the boy and Hubs skipped church to work outside in the heat even more. I loaded Thing 2 into the Suburban, and we went to sit in the air conditioned sanctuary.
Well, Thing 2 was SO STINKING GOOD in church today, that we didn’t even have to leave the sanctuary a single time to go have a talk about our manners in the hallway.
…wait for it…
…eight-month-old Cousin H, who always sits so nice and quietly in church and gasps at Thing 2’s usual Sunday disruptiveness, decided to screech and carry on with some bad manners during the sermon, and Sister’s Husband had to take HER out into the hallway. On his way out, I made sure that I caught his eye and, in my very best, very mature charades demonstration of hysterical laughter, I quietly laughed at him. He shot me the I KNOW! IT’S MY BABY BEING NAUGHTY THIS WEEK, WHILE THING 2 FINALLY SITS QUIETLY look.
I was so happy, people. Cousin H is always so well-behaved in church, while Thing 2 flops and grunts and flips and squirms and hollers in an outside voice, and today the rolls were plum reversed.
And then I came home and made sure I refilled Hubs’ water jug over and over, to keep him hydrated while he worked on the wall.
Because this is the home improvement project that will. not. end.
I think the Chinese built their wall in less time than it has taken us to accomplish ours.
As I said, I’m in my yoga pants. And Thing 2 is still giggling here on the floor beside me, so we are off to play for a bit.
And then it’s going to be an early bedtime for everyone.
And honestly? I love and adore early bedtimes!
Y’all have a happy Sunday night.