Which is what people keep telling me.
But really? I'm at peace with my weekend come this Monday afternoon. I am.
It is true, my daughter IS on the antibiotics again; this time for suspected lyme disease. Some of you may recall way back about three years ago a ring rash showed up around her right ear. The doc treated her for Lyme disease then, much the same way she's treating her again now: discover bullseye rash (two locations this time) treat with three-week course of antibiotics. Go team.
Also. ... I found myself buying Annabel a $40 toy at the toy store on Saturday morning, because I have the working mommy's affliction, known in Latin as "boneless-mommycanis?" She and her friend proceed to spend the rest of the afternoon making trucks and buses out of reclaimed cardboard and construction paper just to prove the scientific fact: Kids Always Play With The Box.
On Sunday there were several trying moments:
First, when the girl decided she did NOT want to go to yoga, that she NEVER wants to go to yoga again and that I should just leave her with daddy so she could have fun and clean the carpet. So I went with the boy, and we got caught in the rain.
More literally, we found ourselves chasing a storm that blew through the Berkshires on our way home, the same storm that evidently put a New Jersey music afficiando in the hospital after a direct lightning strike.
While Silas slept peacefully strapped into his carseat, my heart raced around inside my chest as each mile brought us newly downed trees covering the roadways. Eventually the road became impassable and we had to turn back and find another way home. All I could think was "a few minutes earlier and this would have been ... oh, nevermind. ... I'd rather not think about what might have been.
Although, perhaps, the best part of the weekend came 'round about 5 p.m. as we were all sitting around the couch, watching something probably inappropriate for preschoolers on TV: Jed doing whatever it is he does with his iPhone, me downloading pictures from the weekend to post on flickr, Silas running around eating things of the floor and Annabel using "the big scissors" to cut little pieces of paper into even littler pieces of paper for some "project."
You know: basically ignoring each other while multi-tasking.
Anyway, I look over at Annabel and discover that she has cut off fistfuls of her own hair and is piling it amid the scraps of paper.
Now, mind you, I don't hardly comb my own hair so getting all in a conundrum over the condition of hers isn't really on my radar. However, I was surprised when I looked up to see clumps of hair fall from her hands. She doesn't want ANYONE to cut her hair. Ever. So I presume that I might have frightened her with my tone when I suddenly burst out with the obvious: "YOU ARE CUTTING YOUR HAIR!!!!"
She immediately commensed crying.
Ididn'tmeantoIjustwanteditshortlike ....Ididn'tmeantoIdidn'tmeanto Ididn'tmeanto Ididn'tmeanto
Ah. Childhood. When I really looked at the damage I kinda hadta admit she did a better job than I ever have. Of course, the best part of this little experience was watching Jed unearth his sewing kit from the basement and help Annabel make a pillow for her dolls for the express purpose of saving the hair inside.
We'll probably try and get it evened out tonight. Jed's a little worried kids will make fun of her mullet.
But truly the best little moment of the last two days I was somehow lucky enough to save for posterity:
We are ALL officially in love with dance class.
And really? Silas? He is so damn cute lately it's frustrating. Late last night (when he should have been SLEEPING) he was playing hide and seek in THE ZOO. He started giggling like a mad man when I asked "WHERE DID SILAS GO? CALL THE GUARD!!!"