This past weekend, a fellow cancer mommy and I (with handlers in tow) booked it eastbound to the nearest beach. We packed lightly and drank heavily. Kind of like college, except more awesome because when you are away, you absolutely appreciate the reprieve from trips to urgent care and early morning wake-up calls courtesy of the short ones who follow us around.
I swear, a weekend without kids is like an all-you-can-eat bacon buffet. I mean that literally and figuratively. An all-you-can-eat bacon buffet would be super-duper, much like a kidless beach weekend.
We drove past No Name Pizza.
You know, fresh burgers since '82. Undetermined if the pizza is fresh or if it's actually from '82. That was one of two pictures I took the entire weekend, because it was Friday, I ain't got no job, and I got [absolutely nothing] to do. We did nothing of importance, yet it was a very important weekend.
I didn't even wear my girdle. More room for bacon. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may carpool.
The last time I left for a weekend was a year ago. There was lots of damage done, but nothing that would prevent me from going away again. Let's see if I can remember it all...three hours into my weekend away, Daniel's fingers got closed in the door and swelled up like Vienna sausages. Then someone threw up. Then a text saying Eve headbutted Matt. I came home to crayon up and down the hallway, more artwork on the couch, and a shattered decorative plate which took out a piece of our powder room sink. Again, this isn't like your husband doing a bad job loading the dishwasher to get out of doing dishes; this is just reinforcing my need to escape from time-to-time.
Last night's arrival wasn't too bad.
Whatev. I don't care about that kind of stuff. I always throw away the shoes when we get new Barbies just to avoid stepping on them. I tell them no one is allowed to wear shoes in the house. I guess Dan bleeds from the face once a week, so I can't be a hypocrite.
Then there's the traditional Let's see how fast we can move the furniture to Craigslist festivities with permanent marker.
I guess it would move a lot faster if I cared more. This ain't stopping me from leaving again. Try harder.
Next item up for bids:
Dang, do I need to dust or what??
Oh wait. Natalie has bangs now.
At least they aren't art bangs. Then I'd have to dye her hair black, pierce her lip, and get her some funky plastic squared-off glasses.
Me: Natalie, who cut your hair?
Nat: I don't know.
Me: Natalie, WHO cut your hair?
Nat: I don't know??
Me: Natalie Grace, tell me who did this to you.
Nat: No one cut my hair.
Me: Did Daniel or Eve do this to you?
Me: Matt! Come here! Did you cut Natalie's hair?
Matt: Her hair is cut?
Me: Did you cut your hair, Natalie?
Me: Why did you do this?
Nat: I just love it short on top and long in the back.
Great. My daughter just loves mullets.
She actually didn't do that bad of a job. I think if I tried to "fix" them, it might really look like Daddy gave her the okay to go play with scissors while he worked in the garage.
It's definitely going to take a full-blown mullet to keep me from leaving again.
At least I've always got Hey, it's not cancer to keep me company.