Guess what it did here yesterday? Seriously. Guess.
And here is where I’d like to make some stupid joke about animals walking down our street being led two-by-two by an elderly gentleman with a long beard, but at this point it just seems like a cliche.
Caroline got in bed with us at around 5 a.m. when she claimed that thunder had woken her up. The rule at our house, that we enforce with semi-regularity, is that she can only get in our bed if she’s sick or if it’s thundering outside. I’m not sure that it was actually thunder that she heard at 5 a.m., but I was too tired to debate it and honestly, it could have been because that’s all it ever does anymore. It thunders and it rains. Rinse. Repeat.
I asked, “Are you sure it was thunder?” She said, “Yes, it was thunder and I know because my ears are very sensitive.” I wasn’t convinced, but she won me over with the claim of her sensitive ears and and so I let her get in our bed. We fell back asleep and woke up around 8 a.m. to the sound of legitimate thunder and raining.
Gulley called around 8:45 because we had planned to take the kids to the free Wednesday movie at the theater, but we decided we didn’t feel like driving across town in the driving rain to go see “Clifford’s Really Big Movie”, otherwise known as parental torture in the form of a large, red canine. So, we ruled out the movie and Gulley asked, “What are we going to do all day in this rain?” And I said, “We’re going to pack us a sack lunch and come spend the entire day at your house.”
And that’s exactly what we did. Except we didn’t pack a sack lunch.
However, I did pack several of our DVD’s including “Muppets in Space” and also my new jeans so that I could show them to Gulley and she could try them on to see if she needed a pair for herself. Oh, and I brought my laptop, but never could figure out how to get it connected to the wireless interweb at Gulley’s, so I spent the whole day away from the computer and, other than some mild twitching around noon, I survived.
The kids all ran back to the playroom to play and we attempted to have a conversation, but kept getting interrupted because, apparently, the gang felt they needed to “ice skate” in the living room. So, because the rain has driven us to desperation, we went and got in Gulley’s bed, turned Food Network on the T.V., and let the children take over the entire house. Did I mention we were both wearing the same clothes we’d had on the night before? Clothes that are really one step away from pajamas, but if you call them “yoga pants” they become totally acceptable, if not attractive.
Every now and then one of the kids would come in and ask us for some juice or something and we’d say, “Why can’t you people leave us alone? Don’t you know we’re trying to figure out if black tights are really going to be in for the fall? This is serious, serious stuff.”
At some point we realized it was probably time to feed everyone lunch and when we emerged from the safe haven of Gulley’s room, this is what we saw.
They had torn the place apart. And we didn’t care.
We debated for awhile about what to do for lunch, the age old dilemma of McDonalds versus hot dogs. Delicious and nutritious either way. While we debated lunch, the kids started playing with a whoopee cushion. I’d like to say that Gulley and I were above it, but we weren’t. We gave in to the whoopee cushion and all took turns seeing who could give the most realistic portrayal of intestinal distress, loudly applauding all the dramatic efforts. It was all fun and games until Jackson got a little too enthusiastic and popped the whoopee cushion. He was pretty upset about it, but Gulley told him to just go get the other one out of the playroom. It was a proud moment for me to realize that my best friend is a two-whoopee cushion family. I mean anyone can have one whoopee cushion, but to have a spare? That’s just dedication to a lost art form.
We decided we could all probably use to get out for a little bit, seeing as how we were down to our last whoopee cushion, so we loaded them up in the Trailblazer and drove through the pouring rain to pick up McDonald’s Happy Meals. We got home, ate our Happy Meals and had a little rest time. Gulley and I could have easily reverted back to our college days and taken a four hour nap, but the kids wouldn’t even sit still for a movie. We finally gave up after an hour of repeated demands for popsicles and Chex Mix, and decided to let them bake cookies.
Gulley helped the kids make Paula Deen’s Triple Chocolate Chip cookies and oh my word, they are better than strawberry butter. I’m not even going to talk about how many spoonfuls of dough I ate because it’s just shameful. Here’s a batch fresh out of the oven.
So, we’d played, we’d talked, we’d eaten, we’d baked and we’d eaten some more. It was 3:00 p.m.
What to do? How do we fill these hours with meaningful, purposeful, perhaps even educational, activity?
We bowl, my friends. We bowl.
And please tell me that I am not the only one who is envisioning the entire bowling alley scene from Grease II right now. “We’re gonna scooooore tonight. We’re gonna scooooore tonight.” I actually thought they were just talking about bowling.
Anyway, we hit the lanes. We laced up our bowling shoes, grabbed the lightest bowling balls we could find and had ourselves a little tournament. Check out this style and form.
We discussed taking them to the museum, but decided to show them some real culture instead, to teach them a skill that will serve them well throughout the rest of their lives. And a great time was had by all, even though none of us broke 100 in spite of the bumpers in the gutters. Gulley should be ashamed of herself because she took bowling for kinesiology credit at A&M and really didn’t play up to her potential.
Eventually, everyone got a little bowled out.
We headed home, proud that we had turned what could have been a dreary, boring day into a day of fun and adventure. And I’m not even talking about the adventure that comes when you visit a bowling alley in a sketchy area of town.
If it keeps raining, we’re going to see about opting out of our pool membership and joining a bowling league. You can’t put a price on that kind of entertainment.