Friday Christopher was headed down to Miami for a week long conference. His plane left in the afternoon and he wanted to pick up a few things before he left, so he said, “Hey, I’m going shopping this morning. Do you want to come?”
Sounded like fun, so we packed up the boys and headed to Atlantic Station.
It obviously had been a while since I had gone shopping with Christopher, because I forgot how not fun shopping with Christopher is.
I mean, I wholeheartedly enjoy being with my husband. It was a beautiful day, the boys were good, the stores were empty. We hit some 70% off racks at Dillard’s. I had about 10 pairs of pants and 10 shirts for him to try on. He really needed some new casual shirts to wear in Florida.
But, man, is Christopher hard to dress.
Too long. Too short. Too tight. Too baggy. Too red. Are you serious? I don’t like the pleats. I don’t like the fabric. I don’t like the color. Too expensive. Too dressy. Too casual. You don’t have to help me put the shirt on, I’m a grown man. Where would I wear this? Why are you rushing me?
We left Dillard’s and got him two pairs of dark jeans from Old Navy. He wouldn’t buy button-downs from Old Navy because they were 100% cotton.
He did manage to pick out a nice pair of casual shoes from DSW. We raced home so we could pack and get him on the road to the airport. He took his new jeans, new shoes, and the same old shirts from his closet. I breathed a sign of relief when he left.
A few hours later, the kids and I cleaned the house because my parents and Ethan were coming for the weekend! They arrived around 6 and we had more Asian take out for dinner. I started cooking BBQ chicken and “Grammy’s” mac & cheese (at the kids’ request) and when I called my mom she said, “Aw, I just made that two nights ago. Let’s just get something.” So I put the pasta and chicken in the fridge and we had Thai curry and Malaysian shrimp. And brownies.
The kids went to bed at 9, and we followed at 11. We weren’t sure what we were going to do Saturday, but were excited to do something out and about with the kids.
At 1:30 a.m., I heard those three little words nobody likes to hear: “Mommy, I puked.”
Gavin had puked more than I had ever seen. Seriously.
Most of it was in the bed, which was covered, thankfully, by a waterproof mattress pad. And he was sleeping on the bottom bunk, which made things easier.
I made him a little pallet* with clean blankets on the floor and threw the dirty linens in the laundry room. I scrubbed the trail from his bed to mine. The spots on the carpet are faint but visible. I don’t know why I always end up with white carpet.
At 3 a.m., he crawled in bed with me. “My tummy still hurts,” he said.
As he started gagging, I scooped him up and ran to the bathroom. Another trail to scrub out of the carpet. For some reason, he refused to vomit in the toilet, so he stood there and threw up on my bathroom rug and all over himself.
I put him in the shower, where he got clean and calmed down, and cleaned up the second mess. I made him another pallet of clean blankets in my room, and put a large plastic bowl next to him.
And thankfully, it remained a two-puke episode. Everyone else has remained healthy, so silver lining, right?
Needless to say, the kids were ready to veg on Saturday. They watched TV all day while Ethan worked on a school project on Thomas Jefferson and my dad read Woodward’sBush At War.
My mom and I went back to Atlantic Station to go shopping–for me.
I don’t really enjoy shopping, but it’s always fun with my mom, because has an eye for great deals, and always finds stuff that I never knew I needed, but later cannot live without.
Like the bedroom slippers I’m wearing now. To die for.
At any rate, I ended up buying a cute lime green spring sweater from LOFT and a new pair of sneakers and the slippers from DSW. It was my mom’s first trip to DSW and she was in awe.
I thought, if you think this is crazy, let’s hit IKEA.
Walking the two miles through IKEA, my mom kept saying, “This is unbelievable!”
“Unbelievable good or unbelievable bad?” I asked.
“Just unbelievable,” she said. “Your father would hate this place.”
“Why? Because there’s 10,000 ways to spend money here?” We chuckled.
We walked out relatively unscathed. Two $10 melamine mixing bowls (one for each of us), and two dozen cinnamon rolls.
Sunday morning we went to church and my mom made a roast for after.
I make my roast the exact same way my mom does. Same cut of beef from the same Publix. Same pot. Same oven. Same temperature and time. Same bouillon cubes, same brown gravy mix.
So why does my mom’s beef melt in your mouth and mine has to be chewed vigorously? Some kind of roast beef voodoo.
After lunch my parents and Ethan left (sad!), but a few hours later my new friend Paige and her three kids came over for dinner. We had a spaghetti-pizza bake that she brought, and I made salad and Texas toast. We ate the rest of the IKEA cinnamon rolls for dessert. It was fun, and made the evening fly by.
Now I’m all alone, and appreciating the silence. I have Mitt Romney’s new book along with Outliers and The Guernsey Literary Society.
And I can’t stay up too late.
We meant to take pictures this week, but with the puking and general whining, there weren’t many photo opportunities. But I managed to snap a few as my parents were walking out the door.
*pallet – Chiefly Southern U.S. – A temporary bed made from bedding arranged on the floor, especially for a child.