Weekending

What is it that cool people do on the weekend?

Trendy clubs?
Bars?
Late night gourmet meals?
Dinner parties with fine wine and extravagant menus?
Adventurous endeavors? 
Trips to hip art museums?

I would tell you what cool people do on the weekend if, well, I was a cool person.  Truth is, I’m just not cool.  Need proof?  I’ve got plenty. . .

Well, I just used the word “hip” and I wasn’t referring to a part of the body.  Just this week I informed Chanelle, for the third time, that it’s not call “basghetti” it’s called “pasghetti”.  Chad caught me the second time, ummm, don’t you mean “spaghetti”?  That one sent me straight to the front of the “uncool” line, though I blame exhaustion.  Speaking of exhaustion, to me the weekend means early bedtime.  That’s pretty uncool, right?   Oh, and despite the fact that we’ve had our DVR for four years, I still have no clue how to change any of the settings.  (Chad wants me to be honest. . . I don’t know how to do anything with the DVR.). Oh and pop culture?  I know nothing.  Chad informed me just this weekend that Randy Jackson is no longer a judge on American Idol?!  What? When did that happen?  And when did Tom Cruise and Katie split up??!!  (Okay, I knew about that last one.)

Seriously, I could go on and on. . . but I won’t.

On a brighter note, it has been nearly 2 weeks since I’ve burnt any Tupperware on the stove top.  That’s quite an improvement.  Irregardless, I’ll own my uncoolness. 

Whatever it is that cool people do on the weekend, it’s probably different that what we do.  We tend to be pretty low key.  To me weekends mean one thing. . . all of us together.

Now that fall is here the kids have gotten the message. . . college football. . . and they dress the part.  Chad does his yard work thing and the rest of us enjoy the fruits of his labor. 

But don’t get me wrong.  We ALL do our own share of labor.  For example,  Chanelle and I created this. . .

The sky was so abundantly blue and the clouds were so white and fluffy, we decided to bring it to our driveway.  It was completely worth the bloodied hands I received.  Really, it was.  Meadow even pitched in from time to time when she wasn’t eating the chalk.

Sure, we may not be the coolest people you’ll ever meet, but I’m guessing we’re pretty entertaining to our neighbors. 

Like I said, weekends mean different things to different people.  I remember when weekends meant sleeping in.  With three kids, sleeping in never happens.  Ever.  I remember when it used to mean afternoon naps.  Again, with three kids. . . it doesn’t happen.  We find things to do, though, and this weekend it was a parade.  Parades are a big deal for three little kids.

Charlie and Chanelle sat on the edge of the sidewalk, armed with bags to fill with loot.  The anticipation was almost unbearable. . .

Even the Amish stood alert and ready to dive for those tootsie rolls. . .

If you want to talk entertainment. . . watch hoards of kids risk their lives diving for tiny pieces of candy that, you know in your mind, will eventually make it to the trash when you can’t bear the thought of them putting one more gooey, sticky piece of candy on their pretty little teeth. 

Did I mention I’m uncool? 

After the parade was over and most of the crowd had dispersed, the five of us found our way into the open field of Charlie’s school.  As the sun began to settle below the clouds, Chanelle and I threw Frisbee, Chad and Charlie ran up and down the field playing soccer, and Meadow did her own thing.  In my eyes, these moments were nothing short of perfection.

And however uncool we may be. . .

I wouldn’t have it any other way.