I didn't drink any green beer on St. Patrick's Day. I didn't go to a bar but I did spend time with a wee little guy, however, this post is about what I did with the kids today.
Eight years ago, the day after a rare March snowstorm, I cranked out my second baby before noon and barely broke a sweat. Since we held his party on the night before St. Patrick's Day this year, Justin had a free agenda for his Saturday birthday.
The day started and nearly ended with a marathon Monopoly game, in which no matter how much I tried to bankrupt myself by buying more houses for Pennsylvania Avenue, I kept afloat. Once Justin lost everything on my green properties and Ryan amassed a $32+ million fortune, we finally ended the game.
Then, since six hours of Monopoly wasn't enough to break me, I took all three kids shoe and athletic cup shopping. At one point, when Ryan was in the sporting goods store dressing room trying on underwear--actually a padded short thing for baseball--the door popped open for me to check out the fit and Morgan ran in, grabbed the removable cup and had it pressed up against her knee before I could stop her.
While I whispered to Morgan, that is for the pee-pee, Ryan was supposed to be taking the thing off and putting the cup back in for purchase. When the door popped open again, I saw he had the cup in sideways, giving a very interesting silhouette to these size M youth pants.
Once we were back home and dinner was over, it was back outside for these farm kids for their daily three-person farm yard kickball game. In case you want to play at home, remember, the gravity wagons are a home run.
While I didn't imbibe on this popular drinking day, in so many, many ways my cup runneth over.
NOTE: If you do not want to read about my healthy bowel movement, well too late you just did. I recently became you-better-get-a-colonosco...
Last weekend, in a brief moment of remote control ownership, I tuned into basic cable and saw a very disturbing show called "Rich Bride...
Good gravy (I have taken up saying this since Husband doesn't curse and I was the only one to blame for our household's junior potty...
Ladies, hold on to your blinged out boots, international pig clipping man of mystery, Claude'**, is back in town just in time to lend hi...