The title of yesterday's post should have been Friends Don't Let Friends E-Mail When They Are Totally Tired, Cranky, and Fed Up - but I thought that would be too lengthy. I regret if I may have inadvertently led some of you to believe that I was actually tipsy when I wrote that e-mail to my friend. I assumed that my typical reader (aka, another mom) would know that that sort of missive could be penned on almost any typical day by almost any mother without the aid of intoxicating beverages.
Truth to tell, I don't drink. Oh, occasionally I will sip some wine and try to enjoy it. But I do not like the taste of alcoholic beverages. MadMad can attest to this, having dined out with me while we were stalking the Yarn Harlot. While those around me were enjoying whatever those drinks are that have salt (or was it sugar?) on the rim of the glass, I was enjoying a nice refreshing glass of water. With lemon. I'm weird that way.
Larry took me out for a sandwich at our local bagel shop this morning (I know, I know, all you moms are jealous), where we were able to hash out in peace (i.e., without a zillion interruptions and without teens listening in and promising themselves to never, ever make the mistake of getting married) how to balance Larry's desire to attend his niece's wedding on Labor Day weekend and my desire to not have our August vacation plans completely ruined. Once I was able to vent for 5 minutes - all about how if his family really wanted us to be there, maybe they should have asked when we could make it and maybe they should have realized that traveling on Labor Day weekend involves a colossal amount of traffic, which I guess they couldn't even imagine, since a traffic jam to them is anything more than 3 cars on the road at once (okay, so maybe I vented for more than 5 minutes) - anyway, after I had said my piece, we actually had a constructive discussion where we both agreed the situation sucked but, come hell or high water, we were going to make it to the nuptials with all the kids anyway.
Come to think of it, perhaps I am not giving his family enough credit. Maybe they purposely scheduled the wedding on Labor Day weekend, in hopes that we wouldn't be descending on their celebration with our kid-heavy clan. I wouldn't blame them, really.
After this thoroughly fun and romantic conversation, Larry treated me to a kid-sized hot cocoa at Starbucks. Then I picked out a new booklight at Barnes and Noble and he paid for it and handed me the bag and then I opened it and pretended to be surprised.
Yes, Larry does know how to show a girl a good time. Why do you ask?
Later today, I spent over an hour at the bookstore (all by myself), reading knitting books. And Larry watched the kids all by himself. Everyone was still alive and unharmed when I came home. Which means that they fared better than if I had been the one stuck in the house with them on a rainy Sunday.
I informed Anna (before I went out) that her gift to me would be making the potatoes for dinner while I was out. She accepted this task with her usual grace and good humor. It was a touching moment. And to think I gave birth to that child without the benefit of painkilling drugs. And that I spent all of last Friday in the kitchen baking multiple loaves of banana bread for the teen workcamp fundraiser - the Mother's Day bake sale.
I do hope that you all are seeing the irony of holding a bake sale on Mother's Day. The teens' mothers slave away Friday and Saturday baking breads and cookies (Happy Mother's Day!), then all the dads and kids buy these baked goods after Sunday Mass to bring home and give to Mom, who of course oohs and aahs over their gift and then feeds it to them. That is, if she hasn't already run away from home, due to a surfeit of baking duties.
Frankly, if a mother is going to consume those sort of calories on Mother's Day, they'll be from some good quality chocolate, not from some crappy baked goods that some other poor mom had to bake under duress. Not that I am bitter or anything...