I wrote a little bit Friday. Not much, mind you, but enough to keep the story alive in my mind. Unfortunately, I discovered I had goofed a bit and had to delete a couple hundred words. Luckily, I made those back up and ended up almost with same number of words I had when I first started. Weird.
That night my oldest went to spend the night at a friend's house, leaving me and the little guy at home alone. Little guy did not like this. He wanted a friend to come over. He was lonely. It wasn't fair! Of course, being the sucker I am, I tried to get him an overnight companion. My sister brought my nephew over and the boys ended up playing while we chatted. My nephew would have stayed the night, too, if my little guy wouldn't have fallen asleep on him...
Saturday morning started out with a mile run around the high school track. The little guy did a half-mile without stopping! I was totally impressed.
After the run we went to the grocery store to pick up some snacks and some movies - I was expecting one of my girlfriends to come over and scrapbook. Of course, now that I think about it, I didn't get any of the snacks out! God, I'm lame.
When she left I took over the entire table, which I had moved into the living room so I could watch TV while scrapping. The house looked a wreck but I got pages done! Five completed and two about half-way there. I just need to add some embellishments, type up the journaling, and make a title for the two-page spread I'm working on.
I also did homework this weekend. Lots of reading mostly.
The never-ending-housework-that-will-not-die even got done. I did laundry. I did dishes. Nothing earth-shattering, just necessary.
Sunday I took the boys to Chuck-E-Cheese. Should have been fun, right? Well, apparently when you're nine, you can find something to complain about no matter what you're doing. Mom didn't buy enough tokens. The stupid games don't give out enough tickets. The toys aren't good enough (granted, they really aren't worth anything and are more a waste of space than anything else). Then add to the misery your younger brother making noises...like humming. Or singing. Or talking. Or breathing.
This loveliness culminated in my 9-year-old calling me a "liar" on the way home. It went something like this:
Son: "Mom, you know what? You're a liar." Said with enough cockiness to earn said child a mouthful of soap. Or something likewise repellent.
Mom (in tone of total confusion as this comment came out of nowhere): "What?"
Son: "Yeah. You told me I could rent a Playstation game and you didn't let me."
Mom remembers the conversation from Friday and what followed. "You went to S's house, so you weren't with us when we rented the movies. I don't want to hear it. If you had been with us, I would have let you rent one. So I did not lie."
Mom, a half hour later, "Don't ever call me a liar again."
Gah! I couldn't wait to get them home and send them to opposite ends of the house.