AND NOW I’M RAMBLING.

This weekend was the sort of non-weekend weekend where it was gone before it came and Bryan suddenly exclaimed on Sunday night, “OH, CRAP, WE HAVE TO GO TO WORK AGAIN TOMORROW.”  Because, yes, it surprised us all.

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Saturday was a Derby Day, and while I love them, they do a number on me.  Talking for four hours straight is a lot harder than it sounds, actually, and I am the only person I know who can injure myself walking on my flat feet.  Four hours on pressed concrete in chucks really REALLY does a number on an old person’s joints.  I wonder if I’d be better off learning to skate and doing that.  Or at least wearing Heeleys.

(SRSLY, AM DEBATING BUYING HEELEYS FOR THE BOUTS.)

Good news, though: our Raging Rockets kicked some Big Easy tail!  It was such a nail biter, though, and I almost pulled my hair out from the stress.  Announcing for the Dixie Derby Girls makes me as panicked as I would be announcing for the Crimson Tide, fo sho.

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Sunday was Father’s Day and I realized in a panic that I had thrown the Father’s Day cards away.  Yep, because I am that sort of awesome.  Bought ‘em earlier in the week and got too cocky about being prepared and shit, and sure enough, tossed ‘em cause I thought they were trash.

SO.  There’s that.

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Spent all weekend cooking, too.  From homemade pizza to old-school monkey bread to chocolate chunk muffins to fruit pizza .. I felt like I lived in the kitchen.  Which sounds like I’m complaining, but I’m totally not.  I love my kitchen more than any room in my house, and I love cooking.

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Father’s Day gifts consisted of things that the boys could do with Bryan.  I tried to explain this concept to Tony, who was dead set on a different gift:

Me: What present should we get Daddy?
Tony: A BUCKET!
Me: .. a bucket?
Tony: A BUCKET!
Me: .. I don’t think he really needs a buck..
Tony: A YEYYOW ONE!
Me: Tony, Daddy doesn’t NEED a ..
Tony: DADA A YEYYOW BUCKET PRESENT!

I still don’t know.

Regardless, Tony finally offered up that he thought Bryan should get a “People”, which equated to a Little People truck set that came with two “My Bill”s, which is what all of his figures are called.  Always “My Bill”.  Which makes me afraid that I listened to Carousel to often with him in the womb.  They are all named My Bill or People.

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Tony and I spent the afternoon together yesterday, with his Ear-Nose-Throat appointment.  It’s THE MOST AMAZING THING, to have this little person suddenly able to hold entire conversations with you.  He was a God send through the appointment, which had more prodding and poking and discomfort than most 2.5 year-olds would tolerate.

As a result, he visited the toy drawer in the office and grabbed a plastic turtle and a plastic snake.

Which he promptly named My Bill and People, SWEAR TO GAWD.

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Okay, I have a question.  Tony is starting (STARTING) to use the potty, but at daycare only.  He freaks THE HELL OUT if we try and do it here, and I think it’s because of the diaper barrier.  He wants to remove the diaper himself, but he doesn’t know how (or he can’t, one of the two), and if we try and step in we get a MELTDOWN OF MICHAEL BAY PROPORTIONS.  Does this mean we switch to .. underwear?  Is that where we are right now?  Cause I have to tell you, I almost have too much shit to do than worry about clean underwear for ANOTHER living being in this house.