It was Polly in the living room with her shoe

I’d planned to write a long post about our weekend, but then I realized that it was basically one long non-event and there’s only so much you can say about nothing. Although I tend to manage pretty well most days. But Little Women is on the Soap Channel right now and I’m powerless to resist the charm of Jo and Laurie. Best of all, P is already in bed so I don’t have to worry about him repeatedly asking why Jo and Ashley don’t just get married and then I have to explain that Ashley is from Gone With The Wind and tell him he means Laurie and then he continues to call him Ashley and ask if Beth has already died until I just hand him the remote and tell him to turn it back to Uncle Ted. Not that we’ve played out that exact scenario before.

My point is that I may keep this brief so I can watch the end of Little Women for the 400th time. Or I may not keep it brief if I come up with something to say. I like to keep my options open.

The bike rodeo was Friday. Caroline woke up a little stressed about the possibility that she might knock over a cone and so we had a big talk about how she just needed to do her best. She also decided to wear her favorite leggings with purple stars so she’d coordinate with her bike and her new helmet. As a woman who once wore a leopard print top to the zoo, I was so proud of her attention to detail.

Is it just me or does that picture bring to mind the scene from The Rainbow Connection where Kermit the Frog is riding his bike through the swamp? I’m not sure when her legs got so long, but here’s hoping the warm weather gets here before I have to invest in more jeans that she’ll outgrow in two weeks.

She completed the entire course without a mistake and never cracked a smile. She had the eye of the tiger, man. The eye of the tiger. So now it’s time to take off the training wheels and start preparing for next year. Just as soon as I find the sedatives.

On Saturday, P took her to the ranch for the day which meant I found myself with an entire day to myself. I was giddy with the freedom and proceeded to spend the next five hours cleaning my house from top to bottom. That sentence would make my twenty-year-old self so sad for my thirty-eight-year-old self.

I vacuumed and scrubbed and dusted and sustained a possible Tilex fumes chemical burn to my lungs and throat, but the house is spotless. Sadly, both my yoga pants and my vacuum sustained career-ending injuries. I’m still not sure exactly what happened to my yoga pants but they now have perfect tiger-striped bleach stains on both thighs. It’s a grievous loss because it’s a real struggle to find a good pair of yoga pants that fit both my circumference and my height. So maybe I’ll just wear them with their tiger stripes, call them weight-lifting pants and start working out at Gold’s Gym.

As for the vacuum, I blame Polly Pockets and her diminutive shoes and handbags of evil. She killed the vacuum as plain as if she’d pulled out a tiny handgun and shot it.

So by Saturday evening I needed a new pair of yoga pants and a vacuum. What is the point in trying to save money by not having a maid if it’s going to cost me hundreds of dollars in yoga pants and vacuum cleaners?

That’s what I thought.

So how was your weekend?