We had a very busy weekend. Very busy.
By the time Monday morning rolls around, I rarely remember what I did on Friday. I believe it involved the Red Sox and a playoff game. Oh, and decorating a Patrick cake. And wrapping all Grey’s presents.
Saturday morning as A. took Grey to his dance class, I drove to iParty to procure balloons. I came home and decorated with balloons and streamers and Spongebob-themed partyware. I got done a little early and sat on my front porch and watched the wild turkeys mutually menacing the neighbor’s cat and enjoyed a truly lovely fall day. Then all everyone appeared all at once.
Grey had Jefferson and N. (a girl from church), and their respective parents. The kids played together pretty well — although the difference between boy-personalities and girl-personalities was marked. Grey got a balloon that sings an incredibly obnoxious version of “Happy Birthday” when you hit it. (Who’s brilliant idea was that? Oh yeah… mine.) So Grey and Jefferson were happily hitting each other over the head with balloons and giggling furiously. N. was terrified. The kids played together for a bit while we grownups sat on the couch and gossiped. Then there was happy-birthday-singing, followed by candle-blowing-out and cake-eating. (Two years olds can be surprisingly reticent to eat cake.) This was followed by present-opening. I was impressed that the other two kids didn’t try to open the presents themselves. This is a hard part of other people’s birthdays. Then the party was over and the diapers were full and the kids were cranky and it was time to go home. Perfect. The presents all seemed to be a big hit and Grey got down to the serious work of playing with them.
Then A. worked on caulking the windows in the living room while I planted bulbs and mowed the lawns and Grey failed to take a nap.
When the yardwork/home maintenance/nap failure was complete, we headed to a friends’ house for a game and socialization. I hooked Grey up with Baby’s First Princess Bride Viewing. (Not surprisingly he liked the sword fight.) I got to spend time with some neat folks I rarely get to see and ooh and ah over how much their kids have grown. (Well, one is so new he hasn’t really grown, but I got to nuzzle fuzzy-baby-head which really… no complaints there.) Grey got McDonald’s for his birthday dinner, which delighted him greatly. (Easy to please.) And we got home just in time to pour him into bed and for me to watch the first six innings of the game. (I’m glad I stopped before it got too depressing.)
Sunday! I took Grey to church sola so that A. could do more window-caulking. Every other week Grey is terrific/terrible at church. This was the week for terrific. During the word for children he announced that he he was three years old and had his birthday. Perhaps I should keep a log of information he volunteers during word for children. He ran happily and fearlessly to his Sunday School class. He ate about 80000 oreos after church. He played on the playground. He remembered the signs for “I love God” and melted his father’s and my hearts by doing them so nicely.
We went to Macaroni Grill for lunch. I have to admit that I’m a sucker for their dessert ravioli. Then we went to meet up with the same friends we rarely see from the previous day at Kimball’s Farms. I had been under the impression that this was, you know, a farm. Ha. It was actually an amusement park with goats. The weather was spectacular and delightful, but my back was not spectacular and delightful, so I let my husband Grey-wrangle while I sat on a bench and read a mystery novel. Apparently, Grey is surprisingly good at mini golf. Also, never trust the millionaire philanthropist. We had a lovely, leisurely time there with neat people, and headed home as night began to fall.
To no one’s surprise, Grey fell asleep on the drive home. Unfortunately, he sort of woke up when we got home. He asked for bread. Surmising he was hungry, A. fed him two eggs and put him back to bed. He told me he was hungry. We fed him two more eggs, a piece of toast and a serving of apple sauce. Really — he’s not that physically large. 4 eggs, a slice of buttered toast and apple sauce? That’s like half his body-weight, but he totally packed it away.
It was a really, really nice weekend. There was no laundry done (let us not speak of my hobo-like appearance at this juncture — I think yoga pants with a hoodie sweatshirt are COMPLETELY appropriate office wear). There was no grocery shopping. (Milk? Who needs milk?) But there was joy and sunshine and leaves and “bungy balls” and birthdays and cake and friends. I’ll take it.