Upon arrival to Small Town, NC, I popped into a convenience store and picked up three boxes of gelatin. Once at the front, the girl behind the register rings up my purchase and says, "Mmm...Jello shots," at two in the afternoon.
A genuine look of shock appears on her face as she picks up a box, flips it over, and is surprised to learn that you do not have to add vodka to the powder to get it to set.
After that, Matt and I bought some lotto tickets. We only play the lottery when the jackpot is over $600 million. Because we don't waste our time with that $200 million BS.
We didn't win, but I did bet that we wouldn't win, and won two jelly beans from Daniel. Sucka.
While in Small Town, I finally got around to hitting up a Taco Bell to try that Doritos taco. I had to do it because it was getting embarrassing how many people were posting on my Facebook page about this crazy-ass taco and asking what I thought of it. I felt like a fraud that I hadn't gone out and shoved one in my mouth yet!
So basically, y'all, this is just a plain ol' taco with a Doritos shell. It did not come in a Doritos bag like the advertising would have you believe. The only way I can describe it is that it tasted exactly like it looked like it would taste. Like taco meat and Doritos. While it wasn't bad, I wouldn't order it again. What I would do is passionately lobby for the return of the Beefy Crunch Burrito, which features red Fritos that make my mouth much more happy since they are wrapped inside a tortilla that is oozing with nacho cheese.
(When in doubt, add nacho cheese.)
I asked the girl taking my order at Taco Bell if they still had it on the menu. She was as upset as I was about it. That stuff was $0.99 of heaven! Well, can you get someone back there to crush up one of those Doritos shells and try to make me a knock-off version? No, I don't think they'd have the brains to pull it off.
That's not what I want the person who has just admitted to eating two Beefy Crunch Burritos for snack every afternoon while it was on the menu saying about me when I'm hard at work in the Taco Bell kitchen throwing together the same ingredients in new combinations day after day. That's rough. You have to have brains to differentiate between the Crispy Potato Soft Taco and the Cheesy Potato Burrito!
Anyway, what was delicious that weekend were the cupcakes.
Sad looking, I know. I would never claim to have frost these. Which is why I said my sister-in-law iced them. And I *almost* felt bad about getting the kids all excited for cupcakes and lemonade, but Mom of the Year does so little wrong that she has so few reasons to feel bad.
You can only suck up lemon Jello so fast from a straw. Then you go cross-eyed. And expecting chocolate cupcakes but biting into meatloaf and mashed potato icing? It's almost evil if you think about it. So maybe you should stop barging in on me in the bathroom next time I'm in the shower. You never do it until I'm about to towel off and then you let out all my heat. Do you have a timer built into your little heads that knows when to make Mommy freezing cold? Is it when I'm heading into the chorus of Don't Stop Believin'? Mommy is not impressed. Eat the damn cupcake. I know it's a disappointment for you. There will be bigger disappointments in life. Like the Doritos taco.
But wait! There's take-out! Which I would have hoped the kids would have mistaken for lo mein with mystery meat but turns out you can only really fool them once a meal. They knew it was sugar.
And I let them eat that for dinner without any fruits or veggies because, duh, there was broccoli on the cake. And they were still pissed about the cupcakes.
We came home long enough to get some clean underwear before the kids and I headed up to my parents' house for a visit. Because you don't want to get in an accident with dirty underwear, since the very first thing first responders do is strip you naked and turn your drawers inside out to see if you qualify for treatment.
It was an unusually successful drive up in that we only had to stop once for a potty break. And I wonder how much longer I will still call it a "potty break." In fact, I can't even remember what adults without kids call it.
I went pee-pee, too.
And I only turned on the TV for fifteen minutes! Just to distract the kids from thinking about their over-filled bladders. The rest of the time, we were so American Academy of Pediatrics-approved, with the kids reading books and doing puzzles and writing letters about their track-out. And Eve finally learned how to draw a heart. With an ink pen. On her arms and legs. Sixty times over.
But no one cried so whatevs. Tattoo away!
Matt met us at King's Dominion a few days later. The kids got measured at the height station and got colored bracelets to show which rides they could go on. Eve doesn't ever want to ride anything that does not go around in a circle at 1 mph, so she could care less what color wristband she gets. Dan, on the other hand, wants desperately to ride whatever Nat can ride, and was over the moon when he got the same color band as she did. Just a year ago, he had to watch her ride the big coasters from the sidelines. Now, he was all set.
I don't know how it happened. The very first coaster must have been a pretty wild ride- he broke his glasses. The look of excitement and grief was so apparent on his small face. It reminded me of that Doritos taco.
We had lots of fun, sans glasses, the rest of the day.
We did not play to win any Winnie Jah Poohs, though.
Those nutters will put a rasta hat on anything. Pooh, bananas, cigars, monkeys. You name it, it's dreaded. Now we know why Pooh couldn't get enough of dat sweet honey, mon.
Poor Snoopy Bunny. No dreads for him.
Dan was alive with pleasure when he spotted craft tables set up in the park.
I was, too. That meant I could watch other people get paid to craft with my kids.
(I am currently in the market for someone who will accept either minimum wage or partially used Taco Bell gift cards to come do crafts with the kids.) The only thing they forgot to make was some sort of bag for all the rabbit and lamb hand print-cutouts and decorated eggs that I ended up carrying around the park in my front jacket pockets, only accentuating my lite-beer belly with what must have looked like small tumors. And then I left a trail of cotton balls no matter where I went, which served as further proof that the Easter Bunny was indeed stalking us so you better behave, kids, because he sees all. ALLLLLLL. No, I'm totally serious, Eve. We're the only family he's following, so what does that say about us?
What Daniel was perhaps the most interested in was the haunted house, because it includes such awesomeness as strobe lights and laser guns. And what else screams Good Friday than STROBE LIGHTS AND LASER GUNS? Oh yeah, how about Daniel walking around in his best zombie voice saying, "I'm hungry. I'm hungry. I'm hungry. Feed me. Must have food." Which also happens to sound pretty similar to his robot and general bad guy voices. He's a one-trick pony, that kid. Can't fool me, Mr. Walking Dead Roboto!
Bad day for Jesus, hungry day for zombies, I guess. No, Dan. Jesus wasn't a zombie.
Eve did not like the haunted house. I know this because of key context clues at the scene: screams, red face, tears, snot, and she wasn't at a Justin Bieber concert. Mostly she didn't like it because it did not go around in a circle at 1 mph.
The ride that she seemed to very much enjoy was a kiddie version of the Flying Swings. This particular version has a max height, one which Nat just smidged in under. She and Eve shared a swing and Dan rode by himself behind them. When the ride started, it appeared that it would perhaps pick up some speed. But, it turned out it was just a very slow swing ride. That never lifted off the ground. My feet are dragging, Mommy! Sorry, Nat, you've just gotta work those quads. Daniel was bored out of his mind and banging into the middle part of the ride that does the actual swinging. Every other kid on the swings looked bewildered, except for Eve, who had her arms in the air screaming Whee! as she went around in a circle at 1 mph.
I had to get on the roller coasters with Nat and Dan. I really do enjoy thrill rides, but I've found out that as you get older, you can really start to feel nauseous on them. It may be another thing I can blame my kids for, since this is something that developed after child birth.
I don't know how my mom it all those years she would take me on rides. I always wanted to go on the craziest things and my poor mom would accompany me and probably turn a lovely shade of green that I never noticed because I was too busy trying to figure out how I could loosen all the belt straps so I could really fly out of the seat. She won't admit to being medicated but I'm wondering how she did it over and over and over again. I do one ride and there's never going to be a "YES! We can certainly get right back in line for that one!" It will always be a, "Mommy might vomit. I need french fries."