Weekend

People are all the time asking me if I had a good weekend. How the hell am I supposed to know? That happened, like, HOURS AGO.

Plus the whole good/bad dichotomy can be hard to work with. It was a GOOD weekend if I found money or got a cupcake. It was a BAD weekend if someone threw up. This weekend none of those things happened so I don't really know how to categorize it.

Chris took the boys to his parents house Saturday morning. I . . . worked around the house? I don't remember. I feel confident that I can assure you it wasn't fun, however. But it also wasn't throwing up. Oh, I changed sheets and put away clothes and stuff. Then the boys came home and they took naps. Owen is a great napper, but Sam has recently been doing this thing where he can only calm down enough to fall asleep if you lay next to his bed, ignoring him.

Chris went to work after Owen went down so I . . . sat around the house? I think I was reading the last of the Twilight series. And laying next to Sam's bed ignoring him. Which would only take five minutes, except I always fall asleep and wake up twenty minutes later, drooling and uncomfortable.

Chris was going to a football game that night so I was happy when I got invited to dinner with the family. It was Valentino's pizza and I loved it so much and it tasted so good that I ate too much of it and felt sick for HOURS AND HOURS.

Sunday we took the boys to the grocery store. We tried Giant Eagle because it is our $20 week and just not worth the gas it takes to get to the Super WalMart. And, Giant Eagle has those carts that look like cars and I thought the boys would like that. But that didn't really work out. Because Sam had somehow gotten it in his head that the "car cart" would be motorized. That kid wants a Powerwheels the way I want to win the lottery. As in, really bad, but not going to happen. Especially because I don't play the lottery. And if I don't win the lottery there is no way we can afford a powerwheels. Also, my mom thinks it is lazy-making for kids to have motorized riding toys. And I'm like, come on, I'm his mother. He's got no chance. I would have one of them motorized scooters if it weren't embarrassing. And if I didn't have to carry two giant children everywhere I go. "Oh Mommy, I want Up Up!" "Well I want to lay down on the ground right now, so we're all going to have to compromise, aren't we?" But my threat to lay on the ground is empty, and their threat to throw a fit is not, so guess who wins that one. And you just can't carry children around on a scooter, you need hands for steering. Although, now that I think about it, Sam would probably appreciate a motorized scooter as much as a Powerwheels, so maybe . . .

I digress.

Anyway, the car cart wasn't quite the panacea I had hoped for and shopping trip was short but intensely unpleasant. Then we stopped at Kim and Kristi's house so Chris could mooch some coffee and a haircut. And Owen, as per usual, screamed whenever he saw their dog, Gracie, as if Gracie were an actual Lights-Out-Hiding-Under-The-Bed Monster. If they ever need a baby for a horror movie, Owen would be awesome. As long as they bring Gracie. Then we had brunch at my parents house, but sans my actual parents, where I ate myself sick, again. But it was delicious!

After brunch we made a quick trip to the Children's Museum, the ground zero of headaches and exploding eyeballs.

Home for naps and, fortunately, long nap for myself as well. After naps Chris took Owen to dinner with his parents, and I stayed home and had a living-room picnic with Sam. Then he watched TV and I read a book (sTori Telling, by Tori Spelling. Don't ask why. Just blame Amanda). Then we gave the children their first bath together, filled with much joyous shouting of "DOP IT HAM" and "OWII TOOK MY CUP." Yes, before they took separate baths. Mostly because the vibrant and heart-felt screaming Owen used to do in response to being touched by water. It upset Sam.

Then bedtime for the boys and I read a book (Notes from the Underbelly - yech, I do not recommend) and ate leftovers from Chris's dinner with his parents. Was so yummy I went to have seconds. But soon realized that seconds was too much and I felt sick. Then, bedtime for us.

So, that was my weekend. And I couldn't really tell you if I had a "nice" weekend. Does it sound nice? And how bout yourself? Did you have a nice weekend?