Weekend warrior

This weekend was full of big fun and fall festivities around here.

And, I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I’ve ever been so glad to see Monday.

P was out of town so it just Caroline and me for most of the weekend. I could tell she was tired and not necessarily feeling all that great. The constant runny nose and the endless whining about the cruelty of life clued me in. The problem is that she will never admit when she doesn’t feel good, if anything it just makes her go into some kind of frenzied overdrive as if to prove that she is okay and feeling fine.

I assure you she doesn’t get this from me. All it takes is a couple of sneezes and I’m in the bed waiting for someone to bring me some chicken noodle soup. Which usually turns out to be a long wait.

On Saturday I decided that we needed to get out of the house, plus we had to go buy a birthday present for a party on Sunday afternoon. Clearly I had some sort of mental lapse because you know what’s a bad combination? A tired, cranky five year old in a toy store, especially when you tell her that you aren’t buying her anything.

As we left the toy store, I attempted to put my brain back in my head so that I could drive to Sonic and get a Route 44 Diet Coke. Mama needed some caffeine because our day wasn’t nearly done. I had already told her that we could go to a Fall Festival at a local church because unfortunately I am not clairvoyant.

The good news is that once we got to the festival she forgot about her harsh existence as a pampered only child whose mother endlessly strives to ensure she doesn’t have to wear faux red boot covers on Halloween, and she actually began to smile and have a good time.

She jumped in the bouncy castles, got her face painted, decorated some trick-or-treat bags, and participated in the cupcake walk. I’m not going to lie, I totally convinced her to do the cupcake walk because I thought it meant we’d get to take home some kind of chocolate iced cupcakes and I was suffering from raging PMS. However, this was some kind of lame cupcake walk and all you got was one cupcake when you won. So I made her do it until we had an even dozen to take home.

We waited until right before we left to pick out a pumpkin because I didn’t want to tote around a big pumpkin the whole time. My hands were full enough with all those cupcakes. So we walked over to the pumpkin patch where she tried to convince me to buy what can only be described as a pumpkin on steroids. I had to explain that Mama isn’t some freak of nature and can only lift things that weigh less than me. And then the whining began because her life is hard and why can’t I sacrifice my spinal health to allow her to have the biggest pumpkin in the history of the universe?

By the time we got home we were both exhausted. My goal was to get us both in our pajamas and heat up some dino nuggets for her dinner as quickly as possible. I figured I’d just eat the cupcakes because, hello, PMS.

However, she had different plans. “Can we order some food to be delivered, Mama?”

Oh no. Think fast.

“Baby, Mama doesn’t have any money. We’re just going to eat something here.” (I know. But, technically, it was true because I didn’t have any cash.)

“Okay. I’m going to put on my pajamas.”

That was easy.

About five minutes later she comes walking in wearing her pajamas, holding money that she has gotten out of her piggy bank. She hands me a $1.75 and says, “Now can we order some food?”

Bless her sweet heart. I am the worst mother in the world. Plus, she’s probably going to tell her whole Kindergarten class that her mama doesn’t have any money to buy food. We’ll end up being part of some fundraising effort.

Oh the guilt and the hormones are a deadly combination. I ended up helping her put her money back in her piggy bank and we headed to Whataburger (her choice) to pick up cheeseburgers for dinner because I was so filled with guilt. I really wanted to end the day on a good note, but I think we were both too tired. There was more whining, some crying, and finally I got her to bed.

On Sunday morning, she cried all the way to church because I had the audacity to put her hair in pigtails instead of a ponytail. And her legs were cold and I forgot to feed her breakfast even though I did feed her breakfast and she just didn’t remember it.

By the time we got home from church it was time to go to the birthday party. I’m not a big fan of the birthday party even on my best day but my PMS was in full swing, not to mention that I was wearing the most uncomfortable bra that I own. Sadly, it’s the only bra that I’ve ever been professionally fitted for and it wasn’t cheap so I feel like I need to wear it every now and then to justify its existence. It makes me feel a little like Scarlett O’Hara after she had her baby and Mammy is trying to pull in her corset. Either my ribcage has expanded or that saleslady at Nordstrom took some bad measurements.

Or maybe it’s just my hormones. Or the cupcakes.

Anyway, we survived the birthday party and capped off the day with a trip to HEB because I like to push myself to the very brink of insanity and peer over the edge. What better way to do that than to take a tired, whiny child all hyped up on My Little Pony icing to the grocery store?

The weekend. It beat me.

Did I mention I’m glad it’s Monday?

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