It was an act of Providence, Lexi being a good hour away when I started combing through her room, lest I lose my lenten mind and choke my little hoarder. Wait. Did I say comb? I meant to say shovel. We helped a lot of people at Goodwill this weekend.
We broke away from the painting, repairing, and excavation for Happy Hour down by the river Saturday night and after waiting a while to snag a seat, we feasted on delicious bar food. A couple plopped down next to us, with two little tagalogs, preschoolers.
And because I was a motherless mother that night, I wasn't thrilled about their arrival, but I exercised some understanding - I have my kids with me all the time, so what's a few more over cocktails.
I must be parenting wrong because I don't start dinner out with a rousing, "Are you ready to raise a little hell?" Greg and I shot each other a look, because who in their right mind encourages the devil in their offspring? Ours find it on their own, thank you very much.
Soon, the boys were spitting ice through a straw across the table and IdiotAdultMan looked all surprised like when his glass broke, and lager dripped in his lap. (I'd like to take a moment of silence to think of the waitstaff.)
I drove out to get my kids yesterday, listening to Water for Elephants on CD. They implied they wanted to live there, their lips saying just that. They have fruit trees, and acreage, and a Wii. How can I compete?
But I eventually pried them away and the four-day weekend came to a close.
I think this vacation thing could stick.