There are very good reasons for this. I have been BIZZY, y'all. For a woman as monstrously pregnant as I currently am, busy equals tired. I'm not just talking your run-of-the-mill, after company tired. Oh No. This is bone weary, "why are the nights so short and who are these small people begging for breakfast?" exhausted tired.
My sister and her family were delightful to have with us for the 4th Holiday, and the boys each became a Mini-Me for their older cousins. In order to fully appreciate the extent of this tiny clone phenomenon, you must please refer to the following photographic evidence:
Corban and Tobin: The Blonde Ambition Tour
Rees and Jack get Cheeky.
And, yes, her boys are as "photo-negative" of each other as mine are. Weird, I know.
Our good friends, who recently purchased the home across the street from us, also joined us for the holiday festivities. Big Daddy and Mister Joe were in charge of manning the grill. In the pouring rain.
Gives new meaning to the phrase "wet ribs". The bbq ribs, by the way, were spectacular.
We spent a great few days in the company of my sister's family, and then waved them on their way on Sunday morning. Then, Sunday afternoon, we welcomed my cousin Katie, my cousin Mike, and 4 of Mike's eight (yes, EIGHT) children into the homestead for an evening of chatter and Rock Band ruckus. I still rock out on the drums, by the way, even if I have to lean back to reach them around The Belly.
And then, on Monday morning, I died. The End.
Okay, not really. But the housekeeper came. Did I mention we now have a lovely woman coming in twice a month to scrub the bathrooms and do the floors? Because my bulky self can't manage it any more, and yes I do feel incredibly bourgeois about it all, but there it is, and it saves my sanity. Anyway, the housekeeper came and so I spent Monday morning doing house cleaning to prepare the way for her, and then I spent the afternoon digging out from under the mountains of laundry.
And then, this morning, I died for real, which explains why it is now nearly 11pm and I am finally getting around to posting this rather sad summary of a really exceptional weekend. I managed a 2-hour nap this afternoon and, after dinner at a local Mexican restaurant followed by ice cream at The Cone Zone, we finally got the boys bathed and into bed and settled in a bit for the evening.
And now, my friends? Now I go to sleep the sleep of legends. And tomorrow? Well, tomorrow Big Daddy turns 30. Don't tell him I told you. More on that later.
Nighty night!
3 comments:
Victor fired our maid last week. In a way it was a relief. I probably won't feel that way when I have to buy a mop.
I want you to talk to The Hubs. Once a month my housekeeper comes to actually make the house clean and not just "Oh look, it doesn't look like a massive explosion of Hot Wheels and cookie crumbs in here." And before she gets here, I tidy. And once a month, The Hubs whines about having to clean for the cleaning lady. He just doesn't get it.
The pictures of the boys are cute. I think having a housekeeper is a wonderful idea (I am sort of jealous, but then again, you have much more on your plate then me so it's okay)!
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