Friday:
1) Brave the grocery store again because I forgot road-trip snack essentials--a full mouth IS a quiet mouth. Marvel that 'essential' to a young male equals beer and lots of it as evidenced by the young muscled fellow wheeling out two carts laden with 24-pack boxes of Bud.
2) Wash, dry and (maybe) fold two loads of laundry.
3) Take muscle relaxer and pain pill for sore neck that's turned me into Cruella diVille. Promptly go to sleep..in the bathtub.
Saturday:
1) Wake up late, in bed, at 7:30. Yell at Hubby to moveitmoveitmoveit! because the alarm didn't go off and part of our roadtrip deal was for me to get a quick trip by the quilt shop. What's that? Do I feel like going? Let me put it to you this way: if I don't go, you go alone..with two children; none of this stayin' at home crap, you got me mister? Do you want to spend THREE DAYS at home with these people? Just let me pop more pills and everything will be hunky-dory!
2) Spend three hours answering assorted ridiculous questions, including the following:
'What's that tractor for?'
'Are we there yet?'...after 15 minutes
'What does ( ) spell?'
'Are we there yet?'
'Um, Mooooommmm, did you know he rolled his eyes at you?'
'Are we there yet?'
'Why do cars hit skunks?'
'Are we there yet?'
I KNEW I'd forgotten something....Benadryl!
3) Get one hour, solo, at Creations in Kerrville where I fondle fabric, peruse the books, pet the shop cat and drop some dollars.
4) Initiate Dear Daughter (D.D.) into 'The Roadside Cop-a-Squat Club'. Man thinks a successful roadside pitstop means doodling artwork in the dirt--Picasso's got nothin' on them, ya'll. For woman, it means nothing gets wet but the ground and not flashing your naughties to passing motorists. I give her a 3 out of 10 and will consider us lucky if we don't wind up on YouTube.
5) Attempt to fill two hours with fun sh*t for me and D.D. to do in 100+ degree heat, dodging the beautiful (and not so beautiful) people on the crowded sidewalks of Fredericksburg while Hubby and Dear Son (D.S.) tour the Nimitz Museum in air-conditioned comfort.
6) Home at last! Throw kibble at dog; balance a checkbook. Kids settle in to watch River Monsters and, for once, are quiet. Launder two more loads of clothes..leave them in dryer to wrinkle overnight. Fall asleep.
Sunday:
1) NASCAR...need I say more?
2) It's 12:45 and Hubby's taking the kiddos to his company picnic. I must have 'That Look' on my face 'cause he didn't ask me to go. Who says men aren't psychic? Margaritas are ready for consumption...hey, it's 5 o'clock somewhere and I don't EVEN want to think about Monday!
1) Brave the grocery store again because I forgot road-trip snack essentials--a full mouth IS a quiet mouth. Marvel that 'essential' to a young male equals beer and lots of it as evidenced by the young muscled fellow wheeling out two carts laden with 24-pack boxes of Bud.
2) Wash, dry and (maybe) fold two loads of laundry.
3) Take muscle relaxer and pain pill for sore neck that's turned me into Cruella diVille. Promptly go to sleep..in the bathtub.
Saturday:
1) Wake up late, in bed, at 7:30. Yell at Hubby to moveitmoveitmoveit! because the alarm didn't go off and part of our roadtrip deal was for me to get a quick trip by the quilt shop. What's that? Do I feel like going? Let me put it to you this way: if I don't go, you go alone..with two children; none of this stayin' at home crap, you got me mister? Do you want to spend THREE DAYS at home with these people? Just let me pop more pills and everything will be hunky-dory!
2) Spend three hours answering assorted ridiculous questions, including the following:
'What's that tractor for?'
'Are we there yet?'...after 15 minutes
'What does ( ) spell?'
'Are we there yet?'
'Um, Mooooommmm, did you know he rolled his eyes at you?'
'Are we there yet?'
'Why do cars hit skunks?'
'Are we there yet?'
I KNEW I'd forgotten something....Benadryl!
3) Get one hour, solo, at Creations in Kerrville where I fondle fabric, peruse the books, pet the shop cat and drop some dollars.
4) Initiate Dear Daughter (D.D.) into 'The Roadside Cop-a-Squat Club'. Man thinks a successful roadside pitstop means doodling artwork in the dirt--Picasso's got nothin' on them, ya'll. For woman, it means nothing gets wet but the ground and not flashing your naughties to passing motorists. I give her a 3 out of 10 and will consider us lucky if we don't wind up on YouTube.
5) Attempt to fill two hours with fun sh*t for me and D.D. to do in 100+ degree heat, dodging the beautiful (and not so beautiful) people on the crowded sidewalks of Fredericksburg while Hubby and Dear Son (D.S.) tour the Nimitz Museum in air-conditioned comfort.
6) Home at last! Throw kibble at dog; balance a checkbook. Kids settle in to watch River Monsters and, for once, are quiet. Launder two more loads of clothes..leave them in dryer to wrinkle overnight. Fall asleep.
Sunday:
1) NASCAR...need I say more?
2) It's 12:45 and Hubby's taking the kiddos to his company picnic. I must have 'That Look' on my face 'cause he didn't ask me to go. Who says men aren't psychic? Margaritas are ready for consumption...hey, it's 5 o'clock somewhere and I don't EVEN want to think about Monday!
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