Flying Solo

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 Alternatively titled: How This Weekend Kicked My Ass

There is something magical about this time of year when late spring gives way to early summer.  I can take a deep breath of fresh air and give thanks that I am no longer being held hostage by Calliou and My Little Ponies.

This enchanted season also marks the advent of Golf Season.  There are “business” outings, weekend get-aways, and college buddy get-togethers that all revolve around golf.

Most times I am totally cool with flying solo.  Sure it’s hard work being 100% on for 100% of the time, but dinners are a tad bit easier and there are special moments when it’s just me and The Babes.

Not this weekend.

I seriously think The Universe was testing to see how what it would take to break me.  Universe, you were successful.  I am not the yelling kind of mom, but this weekend I became what one might refer to as a “raving lunatic.”

It started with Marie’s end of the year school function on Friday night.  I tried to have fun with a plethora of word puzzle/scavenger hunt activities.  And I was really getting into it . . . until this one mom was all in a snit about the musical lyrics exercise.  Here’s what the worksheet looked like:

She said, and I quote (in the huffiest tone that is normally reserved for those sixteen and under), “We all live in a what submarine?  What is this?  How do they even expect us to know this?”

Please keep in mind, the “us” she was referring to was not the kids, but the adults.  I just blinked at her in such a way that I am sure I communicated, “Who the hell does NOT know this song by the Beatles?  There is a shirt sized 2T at Target with this lyric!”

And then there was The Bounce House Obstacle Course Incident.  This was pretty much pure anarchy minus the two teenagers monitoring situation.  Thomas was by far the youngest to partake in this Wipeout-esque debacle, which made me made me feel equal parts of both pride and fear.  When I warned him that this was his last time, therefore I thought we had an understanding. 

I was wrong.

He did not get out.  I had to get in to retrieve him while he promptly smacked me in the face.  W.T.F?!  Meanwhile Marie is yanking on my arm to open up her bottle of water all while the DJ is blaring Who Let the Dogs Out.

I was in the 7^th ring of Hell.

I disciplined Thomas, and got out of there as fast as I could.  I got them bathed and to bed, and I tried to relax.  I decided to finally give Fifty Shades of Grey a real chance and see what my book club was all raving about.  I just ended up being super mad that Christian was a giant pig and Anastasia was a blithering idiot.

Friday night was an epic fail.

I could go on about how Saturday was a tad bit better (minus the kid who pooped in the pool during swim class, and the lifeguard who was not sure if she should close down the pool).  I could also say how these kids I don’t even recognize as my own acted like heathens at a lovely outing at a local gallery to make the cutest fairy gardens ever.  The way they focused on those cupcakes you would think that they are denied processed sugar. 

I gave up, went home, and turned on the sprinklers while I got our hot dog dinner ready.  And that made them the happiest children.

Note to self: during Golf Season, go easy on yourself.  Be sure to stock up on hot dogs, ice cream, and sprinklers.  And all will be right with the world.

How was your weekend?