4-day weekend (pt 2) or will this weekend ever end?
Bullet points for those about the TL:DR –
- Was tired before the weekend started, because I have the dum
- Crazy lady burned my brain.
- V kicked up the cuteness everywhere (of course)
- I ate way too much and my brother is a kick-ass cook (but not a bear)
- V learned that too-ripe berries are perfect for painting on her pants
- And now Friday’s over
Having fully managed to make the long weekend long before it even started, we headed to our first Canada Day event, a pool party at B’s co-workers’ house. We brought swimsuits for me and V. Let’s go over that again. It was a pool party. It was hot and sunny. Children were invited.
First thing V did when she hit the back yard was head for the pool. She was ‘very good’ and lasted about 5 minutes before going in past hem length, at which point we changed into our swimsuits. Apparently a co-worker of B’s didn’t get the message about the ‘pool’ part of the party. And they brought their two sons. Two sons who don’t know how to swim. Two sons who really, really, really wanted to join all the other kids in the pool. Or at least get their feet wet. Two sons who had a mother who didn’t swim either (I can’t figure out why else she was so uptight about the pool).
This translated into her shouting (that is the nicest word I have for it) out their names ever 20 seconds or so. All. Afternoon. LOOOOONG. I never fully understood the term ‘helicopter mom’ until I saw this woman in action. Her children could not breathe right. They were in mortal danger at every moment. And let’s be clear here, they weren’t 2 or 3, they were maybe 5 and 8. They were on a tighter leash than V. You’d think that everyone in that backyard was just waiting to do harm to those children, that if one of them fell in the pool everyone would have sat around watching. Her absence from the backyard was noticeable, not only in decibel level, but also as it was the only time her kids were allowed to play and do so happily. Their names are burned into my brain so at least I’ll be able to address them by name if we ever run into them again.
Much face-stuffing also ensued. La vache qui rit is laughing at me, I must have eaten about 467 of those little party cubes (and I made sure to pick up some wedges at the grocery on Saturday.) Then home to walk the dogs, and off to my brother’s for the second bbq of the day. My brother may look like a blue collar sorta guy (or some might say a bear) but man he loves to cook! The main event was sliders, but not just run-of-the-mill sliders, but sliders with brie, alfalfa (why did I try to spell that with two phs?) sprouts and some lemon balm/basil aioli…I may have eaten 20 or so. V’s two cousins as well as her friend W (who travelled to Jamaica with us in Jan) were at this ‘que so there was much kiddie happiness. I’m sure the frozen fruity treats and cupcakes helped in that department.
Friday hubby had to work, but V and I headed out bright and not-so early (give me a break I’m on vacation!) to pick strawberries. Did you know people actually get territorial about the rows they’re working on? Like full-on stink eye. Two year olds stepping into ‘their’ row had the potential to induce a heart attack. (No berries were harmed in the making of this blog – well other than the ones I mashed and boiled then poured in jars) I made the mistake of telling V that she couldn’t eat any berries until we paid for them, so after she’d picked about 4 she headed for the end of the row to go pay. I explained we needed to fill the basket, but it was a lost cause at that point. She was pretty much focussed on paying and eating for the next hour. We managed to get about 4L of the berries, and I picked up a pre-picked basket at the checkout so we’d have a decent batch for the jam.
She ate them on the front step:
(I know it’s a horrible pic, but after this she had to go potty, and things went downhill.)
She had them for lunch, at dinner and every time you asked her what she wanted for the next 3 days the answer was, ‘strawberries’.