Mama’s back, kids. It was a great weekend with a bit of excitement thrown in here and there. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I really, truly, sincerely cannot handle vomit. Like, not at all EVER. And certainly not while sober. Guess who decided to puke all over his Sissy? Yeah. By the time Judy was able to pull over there was barf everywhere: all over Bubba, his car seat, my suitcase, the back of my dad’s chair. I could not have been more horrified had the car caught on fire. Judy and I got it all cleaned up and I managed not to vomit myself, nor did I suffer a psychotic break. Evan managed to throw up once more before we got to the cabin. Thankfully my uncle kept the cocktails coming.
As if I hadn’t suffered enough, yesterday Evan threw up in my hand while we had some company over. I tried to act all cool like this happens every afternoon but I went inside and totally lost my shit. The humanity.
In other news, I gave whiskey a serious try and I like it. Who knew?
The Bigfoot Parade was everything you could hope for and more. One “float” (really someone’s pick up truck) featured a dude in a Chewbacca costume. My cousin and I figure Wookies are related to Sasquatch. The parade was also heavy on the fireman action, but these were Willow Creek volunteer firefighters, so the “hot” factor was pretty low. Like, completely nonexistent.
My hopes and dreams for the weekend were realized: lots of pool time, no make-up, hair in pig tails and family bonding. I totally roughed it too: no hair dryer or laptop. My uncle brought a box of photos for us to go sort through and divvy up. I found some cute ones of my parents that made me laugh and also made me a little sad. In one my mom is pregnant with me, and she’s smiling at my dad while he’s talking on the phone and smiling down at her tummy. They look so young (and they were – Mom was 21 and Dad was 24) and happy. They were probably genuinely excited about the baby on the way. Hey, they didn’t know she’d have colic and then grow up to be a complete freakshow.
I have to go put more anti-itch lotion on my 2000 bug bites. Hope your Labor Day weekend was just as fun but with less vomit.