White Lightning Axiom: Redux

The long night is over. More or less. Many mundane and typical things happened this weekend. The least of which bothered me the most. I stepped on the scale the other day and was greeted by a nasty little number that I don't want to talk about. What? Come ON! No, really, it's none of your ... yellow?! I'm not chicken dammit. 207 ... there, you happy!? Sheesh. Of course, Hero Dad clocks in at 175 and for each of those thirty odd pounds I have on him, not a one does me much good in keeping up with him. I would just love to be able to start back in on my exercise program again, but getting 2 hours of aerobic workout plus the 30-45 minutes of prep and cool-down just isn't forthcoming unless I do it before the sun rises or after the kids pass out. I swear that giving up coffee has complicated this issue more than anything. I am certainly NOT going to go on one of those bogus diets either. Sure, the whole Atkins thing would be a breeze for me, or one of those morally bankrupt South Beach diets. But no, not my pile of beans. Mmmmm, beans. No, I'll loose this the hard way. Like I always do. 185 would be a nice spot to be at.

Saturday was normal. Swim, eat, shop. Only difference is that time we went shopping at the Home Depot Temple and nowhere else. Ahh, the smell of fertilizer and spilled spackle. The sounds of wing-nuts rattling across the cement floors and the chirps of lost sparrows high amongst the rafters. Yep, my lost genetic home in the mists. So after the Mrs gives up on finding me after the 5th potty visit requested by the toilet fixated children, I run out to pick up 25 more retaining wall blocks for the sand-pit. Probably not enough to completely finish the project, but Hero Dad managed to get it to a point where we are on the last leg. Ahhh, and then the last few tons of sand. This time, however, I may opt for the play sand without the added perma-stain clay silt. Nothing like looking at the blue jeans with the beige knees that you have washed 100 times and still cant get the clay out. In addition to the thousand ton blocks, I also picked up 3 more packs of gutter helmets to finish up what I had started last weekend. Although the asphalt shingle roof is certainly magnifying the heat from the sun but ten fold, not having to go up every week in the fall to scoop out buckets of half rotten tree leaf swill-soup from the clogged gutters will be all worth it. That is, if these little flimsy aluminum screens actually work correctly. Oh, perish the thought that they fail me.

It's Sunday, and off to church with Alexis I go. She behaves like an angel at the 1000 family mass. I'm not certain, but I think she enjoys having me all to herself for an hour and thus, does not go into the typical 'apocalypse now' meltdown mode when I take her AND Jacob along. Jake is never calm, just manageable. After Mass, I spend the rest of the day just mucking about till it is time to head out to the Salacious Seliga's household for a Birthday party. Their youngest, Nick, (The Mrs' Littlest Boyfriend) is packing in yet another year and requires all the necessities at the event. Pool with 47 degree water, moon bounce, beer, burgers, etc. The pool was not appreciated by Alexis who prefers to swim in bath water. Jacob, however, was more than thrilled to be shivering away with blue lips and standing in the center to prevent either of the EEEEeeevillll parents from hauling him out. By some trick of the elements, fate and karma, the kids were well behaved the whole time. Alexis latched onto some of the older girls who were more than happy to tote her about to the various 'girl meetings' about the property. Jake spent his time in the cool basement playing with various trucks and such when he was not emptying giant pixie sticks into his voracious maw or onto the stairs, carpet or any other available horizontal surface. It was a bit on the warm side, but the mini-vacation from the kids was nice. We did not leave until 2300 hours when the kids had all but burned off every ounce of adrenalin or sugar. They barely made it out to the main road before they passed out. We ended up just shuffling them into bed when we got home near midnight. Alexis woke up briefly when I was carting her up to their detainment room, but was to exhausted to put up any kind of fight or insist on her usual battery of special requests.

Monday ... well, it could have gone better. Alexis woke with a start at 0400. She was probably sore from running about all day and needed to make a visit to the potty as well. The Mrs handled the impromptu emergency drill quite well and was back to bed in two shakes of a lambs leg. This, however, was not a good sign for the twins. Although they kept dry through the night, the profound lethargy from Sunday's events made it a requirement, nay, A QUEST, that I stay home with them and let them get more sleep. And myself, of course, slept right with them. Wouldn't that be nice? Jake woke up at 0730 shortly after the Mrs left. This was lightyears beyond the rising hour of his sister. A tardy 1030 would be her hour of alertness. After a late breakfast of cereal, they laid about the livingroom till lunch time.

Then the fun began. They took full advantage of the 'Mr Mom' situation and did not let up until the Mrs FINALLY got home at 1900 hours. Even then, they were determined to get someone to cow-tow to their every destructive mood swing. At one point, the Mrs and I were trying to have a curt discussion about her day. Jake, doing his best to get our attention for something, wedged his way between us and proceeded to let loose with 100 gallons of sullied fluids upon the imported Italian marble floor. No more than 2 minutes earlier I had asked him if he wanted to use the bathroom, but the denial was so strong and fervent that after the 3rd time of me imploring him to go pee we decided that he really did not need to go. Lesson learned. Never trust a 3 year old with a bladder the size of Kentucky and a will as strong as carbon fiber super-strings.