Come on, finish it with me. You know you've heard it from your mom a kazillion times!
. . .don't say anything at all!
That's where I've been with this silly blog for the last couple weeks. I've had a few crappy things happen, and every time I'm in the frame of mind to blog again, the next wave of yuckiness hits. So, I'm going to purge the yuckiness, find the goodness, and blog again. Thanks for understanding.
All the yuckiness, all at once:
Two weeks ago, our shop was broken into. While I was home alone with the kids. Matt was literally on the other side of the country, and it was scary. The guy, who was running from the police, ditched his car and decided our quad would be a better way to go. It sucked.
When you are stressed out and not in your best negotiating mode, a hotel room in our town will cost you $119 plus tax.
Matt got home safely, and I planned a fancy dinner for us on Valentine's night. Except the country club overbooked, and after an hour of waiting, we had to declare it our worst dining experience ever and move to another restaurant. I have a whole post bouncing around in my head about how many ways they screwed up that night, but this will have to do.
I had to work on President's Day. Not that this was different than any other year, but I still had to.
Early (pre-crack-of-dawn) the next morning, I got sick. A funny, dizzy, woozy kind of thing, added to the headache I'd been sporting for about 2 days.
The next day, also pre-crack-of-dawn, Chance started not feeling so hot, and by 6 a.m. commenced to emptying the contents of his stomach approximately every 1/2 hour, while moaning and wailing (he coulda been a great Jewish boy) the rest of the time in between. Another day shot.
Saturday, Chance and I travelled to big town for two hockey games - or so we thought. Colton was playing in town, so Matt stayed behind for those games. Turns out, we (our whole team) were there on the wrong weekend, didn't have even one game scheduled, let alone two!
Add to that the mundane, everyday stuff of laundry, dinner, dishes, cold hockey bleachers, early Saturday mornings, and adding a bit too much winter fluff to comfortably fit in my clothes, and I was close to a walking basket case.
And, no one wants to read the blog of an almost basket case.
Now, for the silver lining part:
We are all SAFE. I would not have known our 4-wheeler was gone, except for the Deputy that found it and alerted me it was mine.
I don't think the quad had much gas in it. SUCKER!!
My wonderful little Colton thought staying in town at a hotel on a school night was the best night of his life. They even had free breakfast! And whatever kind of cereal you wanted! And toast! And yogurt! Oh my!
Chance's team won a hockey game. I think this is the first win for this season, against kids that were actually their age, and not the other team's "B Squad". Way to go, Chance!
When we finally made the decision to leave the restaurant on Valentine's Day, we called another restaurant in town to see if they could squeeze us in. The hostess is a friend of ours (thanks, Anna) who worked us into a table. By the time we got there, she had informed the owner of our predicament, who was ready with roses, chocolates, and a table overlooking the lake. Thanks, Jordan - you saved what would have been a bummer evening.
Darla and I snuck away 3 hours early on President's day to make some fun cards with Deb and Jane. Thanks, gals. You will never know how much I needed that day. You guys are wonderful friends.
Our coaches ended up making some quick calls, and got a team down the the arena to play one hockey game. In addition, the rink couldn't fit us in for about 2 hours, so there was plenty of time to head to Michael's Craft Store and spend my gift certificate. It ended up being a win-win!
My house is clean, and the kids actually did EXTRA chores yesterday, because they both wanted to earn some money. Let's all hope we can keep that trend going!
And that, my friends, is that. I'll be back this week, with regular stories and excerpts of our always fascinating lives. Thanks for enduring . . .