another monday. i always have such high hopes for the weekend and then it comes and goes in the blink of an eye. maybe it's that "time flies when you are having fun" BS. who knows. anyway, this weekend was interesting, to say the least. butch's college roommate blew into town on saturday morning with his 3 year old. they were set to arrive at 8am...which, to anyone without kids, sounds absurd. to anyone with kids, 8am is, like, mid morning. i forget what it's like to sleep past 7am, and if i actually had the chance to do it...i probably wouldn't be able to. "sleeping in" is a thing of the past. so is "relaxing" on the weekend. on friday, the janitor at my school and i were having a conversation (he also has two kids) and he said, "so you don't get to sleep in anymore on the weekends, eh?" i laughed and said, "no. not at all." he then went on..."you have two little alarm clocks now." yes. two little alarm clocks that poop their pants and drive me crazy. he said, "no worries...me too." kids are a pain in the ass for all parents, doesn't matter who you are.
so the guys decided to take the two older kids to the aquarium. i was a little apprehensive at first, because when those two numb nuts (my husband and friend, respectively) are together, they revert back to their college days. guys are awesome in that way. they both act like they have no responsibilities or cares in the world when they are around each other. this is no bueno when dealing with a 2 year old and a 3 year old. anyways, they headed out the door and i thought about heading to church to say a prayer for the two children. (amen.) i didn't hear anything all morning, but when they came home...butch looked like he was involved in a war, rather than a day trip to see some fish. he said, "let me tell YOU. (arms flailing) that was a LOT of work and a LOT OF walking. a LOT, trish." (i laughed.) i was hanging out with the chubby baby all morning and forgot how easy it was to have just one kid, opposed to two. (cake.) he said, "wanna hear the best part?! we asked the kids what their favorite part was and they said...THE SAND BOX. the friggen sand box!" he went on..."we saw fish, dolphins, sting rays....and A GREAT WHITE SHARK. but they liked the sandbox the best?!" (he was pissed.) kids are awesome. (ella also enjoyed the rotating door in one of the exhibits...this also set butch off. door > shark.)
so later that night, i took the wheel and gave them the go ahead to go out. however, i would not allow either of them to operate any vehicles so they had to walk to the local bar. (walking is even a little scary when it comes to these two and alcohol.) we bunked the two little girls together and they were yammering on like little nancy's for hours. i kept going over and telling them to lay down and be quiet and i had a flashback of my own mother interrupting a birthday sleep over of mine. she was (very) pregnant with my brother (who is 11 years younger than me) at the time and she waddled down the steps and told us to quiet down. i yelled, "IT AIN'T OVER 'TIL THE FAT LADY SINGS!" my girlfriends found this highly amusing (giggles galore), my mother did not. she shook her head and walked back up stairs. (no worries, payback is imminent with my own two.) they were both up really late, and i knew damn well that they were going to both be a hot mess in the morning. i do know one thing for sure about my children...they need their sleep. if ella gets over tired, she turns into a complete raging asshole. she hates herself, hates her life...and wants everyone else to pay for her sleepiness. (well, we did.)
the next morning, she woke up rather salty. i could tell she was in no mood...for anything. however, the baby slept all night...so she was smiles and sunshine. (and shitty drawers.) i got ella out of her crib and we went downstairs. we (the two numb nuts and i) decided to take the kids to the nearby beach to play in the sand. (hell, if the sandbox was a hit..this should've been the best thing ever.) we loaded them all into the wagon and when i went to take a picture, ella put up her hand, carrie ducked down, and ella's friend hid behind her hair. (see below, not lying.) i should've known this was an omen. we started walking, butch was pulling the wagon and we weren't even off of our street when ella started crying. crying because her nose was running and she had "boogies". (my have boogies, my have boogies, my have boogies...times 323) i didn't have a tissue, so i used...my hand. (motherhood is glamorous.) she didn't stop her nonsense, so then butch ended up using...his shirt. (sanitary.) we were trying to ignore her, but she just kept getting louder and louder...sending carrie into a fit of fury and panic. sympathy cries erupted out of her as well. so our two kids are howling to beat the band...and the 3 year old is looking at them like we just sprung them out of an insane asylum. (they were indeed acting crazy.)
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| smile! (or not...) |
when we got back she calmed down and i made lunch. (and almost took shots of vodka.) i also had to wipe about a gallon of snot off of both of them. ella asked for the pine cone about 7 more times. butch was severely hungover and just stared at me. is this our life? (yes, why yes it is.) right before i laid ella down for her nap...she hugged me and said, "my sorry i was FRYING at the beach...and whining...and FRYING." i told her she should just take a good nap and she'd feel much better afterwards. (she eyeballed me skeptically.) both kids slept most of the afternoon...and so did butch and i. (exhausted.) so when i sat down to lunch with my (single) friend today and she said, "how was your weekend!? relaxing!?" i almost spit out my drink and choked on my apple. instead of going into all this (stated above)...i said, "oh, it was good...butch's college roommate came to town, ella was over tired and total pain in the ass, i didn't sleep much, and we got into a heated almost fist fight about a pine cone. no big deal." (cliff notes version.) she was hysterical. as another week starts, i'm sure the shenanigans will continue. hey...it ain't over 'til the fat lady sings.
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