A Whole Lotta Busyness

Busy weekend here for the Manic crew.

Friday:

Met high school friend for lunch with our five children.

Went shopping.

Tried to sneak in a quickie with hubby but then the doorbell rang and coitus interruptus by kid next door.

Cocktails at The Dock (same place where this happened, and funny thing was, another wedding was going on, and after my second appletini, I said to our friends, same friends we were with when we crashed first wedding ... I said, "Come on guys, it's time to get our photos taken. PS. This won't make any sense to you unless you read the older post. But anyway, we were laughing about how funny it had been and how we still need to figure out how to get copies of those ambushed photos we had taken at the crashed wedding. Then my friend Emacy and I went to go use the bathroom. We see a chick sitting outside smoking. Emacy and I looked at one another in amazed shock. IT WAS THE SAME PHOTOGRAPHER FROM THE LAST WEDDING WE CRASHED!

She was working the wedding this Friday night TOO! We were thisclose to having her take our photos again at this random wedding. Can you imagine we start doing this all over the place and all these random photos of the four of us show up in unsuspecting newlywed photo albums? Anyway, she said the wedding that was going on was a Scottish wedding and the men were all wearing kilts. Of course, what did I want to know? Yep. "Were they wearing anything underneath the kilts?"

We did not find out. Because we had tickets to see a movie.

Saw Burn after Reading. Good flick. A little Pulp Fictionish. Three-and-a-half stars on the Manic scale.

Saturday morning:

Soccer photo for Tukey at 8:30 a.m.

Soccer game for Diva at 9:15 a.m. where she scored a goal and played awesome and I was screaming for the team, and was jumping outta my folding chair, and at that point I had a revalation. I am officially unequivocally (and yes, I had to totally spell-check that word!) a freaking soccer mom and I AM LOVING IT!)

Quick stop at Kohl's to buy Diva flip-flops cuz she forgot a change of shoes, and yeah, I find me a dress to buy, which I thought was a steal for $59 until I pay for it and discover it's super-super-duper on sale for $21! Yahoo! Even if I never wear the dress it's worth it!

Next to Sports Authority so Mr. Manic and Ajers can get shoes. Mr. Manic does not find shoes. Ajers does. And Tukey uses the rest of his birthday money for Heeleys, which I told him he should get the bigger size but did he listen to me? Noooooooo! of course not. And guess who now has to drive back to Sports Authority later this week? Yep. Me. To return the too-small Heeley's. Why the EFF can they not listen?

Drop Mr. and Ajers off at the football field and the three remaining of us go find somewhere to eat for lunch. We argue and bicker for 45 minutes all while driving around about where we should have lunch, and because Diva eats like two things (Bagels and french fries) this is not a fun discussion. Settle on pizza.

Back to watch Ajers football game that Mr. Manic coaches. It's hot as YOU-KNOW-WHAT outside and I'm sitting there with an umbrella to shade myself bitching about the heat. And telling everyone that I shouldn't be bitching because next Saturday when I'm sitting outside at 8 a.m. for Diva's soccer game, I'm sure it's gonna be snowing and then I'll be like, "Why was I bitching about the lovely weather we had last Saturday?"




Ajer's team wins. First game in three years. Everyone is happy. I have a headache. I think it's sunstroke. Or maybe the martinis from last night. A combination perhaps.

Back at home, I sneak in an hour nap, but it's not good because Tukey comes up like three times to cry about the Heely's that are too small for him. "I told you so." "Why don't you ever listen to me?" Then he comes back up and tells me he's going to try them anyway. "Fine," I say. "But if you put them on and ruin the bottoms, we CANNOT return them." He must have gone outside and tried them out because some time later he comes back into my room after I've fallen sufficiently asleep and he's crying and saying, "I'm such a jerk! I'm such a stupid idiot! They don't fit me! I should have listened to you! I'm such a bad person. Now I'm never gonna have Heely's that fit me."

Duh. Has no one ever heard, "Mother's always right?"

Up from nap and I have to get ready to go to my sister's 20th high school reunion. Yep, you read that right, my sister's reunion. Last year, at my 20th reunion, some of the class of '88's alum helped do registration at ours so we promised to help at theirs. I had a raging headache but pulled it together. Plus, I wanted to go in the spirit of my sister who could not be there.

It was fun, but I was exhausted, tired, headachy, and the headache was growing worse. Home by 9:30, having drank not one ounce of alcohol at the reunion, feeling like I was getting the flu, not sure which end was going to give way to the evils of being sick.

Took a vicodin and hoped for death or at least peaceful sleep. Got the sleep.

Woke this a.m. with no headache!

Went into the city to meet up with some friends who were in town from Philly. They were here to see the Bears kick the Eagles' butts. (we shall see, second half at this point, and I have no idea who's winning. You're probably in shock I even know who's playing. You're probably in shock I even know my town's team.)

Great lunch, conversation, people watching with our friends, then back home.

Get ready and go to our neighbor's surprise 50th birthday party.

So in one weekend, I hit it all--soccer games, football games, lunches with friends, 20th high school reunion, a migraine thrown in there, a 50th surprise party ... do you think I got any laundry done? Nah. Do you think I care? Nah. DO you think I'm ready for bed. Hell to the yes!

And tomorrow morning, my first-born baby leaves for an overnight trip through school. They have this thing called Outdoor Education in fifth grade where they go away for an overnight camping trip. MY BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I won't be able to talk to him! I don't think I've gone his whole entire life without talking to him for more than 24 hours. How will I hold up? Will I make it through this harrowing milestone of parenthood? Tune in later for the continuation of Manic Mom's Mental Myriads ...