"This is the worstest weekend and it's ruining my life!"

Her Highness has a flair for the dramatic.

Bert claims she gets this from me. Not sure why. At all.

But, as far as her statement regarding this past weekend, I almost have to agree with her.

It's been one of those weekends where I've laughed, a ton, but only to keep from crying. And let me go ahead and say, that yes I do realize in the grand scheme of things this past weekend is a breeze compared to those who are suffering with truly ill children, and tornadoes and such. I honestly shouldn't even have to state that, because it's obvious and you all know that I'm not at all trying to compare my weekend to those in Yazoo City.

Am I overly whiny then?? Sure.

Bear with me.

Recently, Bert and I reached a stale mate. We do this from time to time. And it's always over super important issues such as whose turn it is to sweep. Our last one was a real doozy. Thunder spotted our Apples to Apples board game, which has about 84,000 cards in it. Thunder has asked me a million times to get it down out of the closet. Each time I've explained it was a grown-up game, so he didn't need it. Thunder finally wore Bert down and got the box he had been coveting for days. As soon as I saw Thunder with the box I asked Bert why he had given in and stated, for the record, "The boys don't need that! They will just make a huge mess and the cards will be EVERYWHERE." Bert insisted it wouldn't be a problem. Within moments, there were 84,000 cards EVV. REEE. WHAAREE. That's my southern exaggerated spelling, 'cause that's exactly how I said it when I called Bert to tell him he was just plain WRO. UNNN. GGG. That and a few other choice words, plus my promise stating not one single solitary card would be picked up by moi. For days I stepped on those cards, which were scattered from room to room. Friends stopped in to say hi and would offer to help pick them up. Threats were made on their lives if they dared to help Bert's cause. Finally, after almost an entire week, I came out of the shower one evening and saw Thunder and Lightning picking up the cards fast and furiously. They grinned ear to ear when I bragged on their behavior and excitedly spilled the beans, "Daddy said he'll give us FIVE DOLLARS if we pick up all the cards!"

Thus our stale mate ended for a mere ten bucks.

This time, however, I don't think Bert got off so cheap. Our dishwasher died. Like two weeks ago. And when it did, I reminded Bert as to why I would never ever again wash the dishes. Bert and I have lived in two different apartments without a dishwasher. Our first place together was a studio apartment where you could literally touch the refrigerator, stand in the den, and put your other hand on our bed. Tiny. And we would often argue over whose turn it was to wash the stinkin' (literally) dishes. At times it would get so bad that we were eating cereal from mixing bowls, so we would take all the dishes into the bathroom and wash them in the bathtub. Ridiculous, I realize. The other apartment was after we had Her Highness, so I was washing tons of bottles, plus all the dishes we used on a daily basis. When we finally bought our first house, a dishwasher was the #1 thing on my list. When we moved in I made a promise, Scarlett O'Hara style, to never wash a single dish again... with God as my witness... for as long as I shall live.

So, when our dishwasher died with at least two whole dirty loads already in our sink, I told Bert he'd better get to washing. He didn't listen. Instead, he bought paper plates, cups and bowls to get us by until Lowe's could deliver and install our new one. Seven to ten business days later. Business days. Even now, our kitchen smells like a rotten sippy cup. This morning with several more business days left, Bert decided to bring our stale mate to a halt and picked up our dishwasher himself. It's hard wired to the house, so he thought it would be best to let a professional do the work and hired a plumber. I love my new dishwasher, but it will take at least four loads before the kitchen smells good again.

On top of horribly smelling dishes, Hail had a stomach virus, which of course started after midnight. Saturday night, Hail and I fell asleep together on the couch. I woke up feeling something wet all in my hair and around my body. Quickly, I recognized the pungent smell and ran with Hail to the bathroom. I gave him a bath, then woke Bert to watch him while I took a shower. Hail vomited from 12:30-5:30, then played all day long like nothing had happened. I just hope I feel that good when I catch this stupid virus. Then, as quickly as it had stopped, it started again yesterday afternoon. Poor little guy. He asked me several times, "Can you just git dat fro up outta my tummy? Pwease!" I knew each time he was going to vomit by the way he would smack his own little stomach. He said, "I'm twyin' to hit dat fro up and make it come out." At one point I could tell he was going to vomit again so I asked, "Honey, do you want to throw-up in the bowl or the potty?" To which Hail replied, as if I were stupid, "Momma. I don't wanna fro up at all anymur!" He seems to be better today, though he is milking it for all it's worth. Thunder and Her Highness have given him tons of attention and babied him greatly. If you look closely at the pic below you will see Thunder carrying Hail across the backyard. Hail told Thunder he was "too swick to walk." Such a stinker pot.

Sunday morning as I walked around in a drunken stupor, (wishing it had been alcohol induced) I noticed water seeping through the cracks of our hardwood floors in the kitchen. Screaming and crying began. And not from my vomiting two year old. Bert tried his best to calm me down, then got busy fixing the sneaky leak under our kitchen sink.

Afterwards, Bert kept playing the role of world's best husband, and took Lightning to the grocery store to get a few things. On his way home, Bert called and said, "Don't get mad at me. I couldn't help it." He then explained why Lightning was the proud new owner of a Jeff Gordon teddy bear.

Our kids are always begging for quarters to play the claw machine in Kroger's entry way. I hate those dumb things, and their strategic placement, and always warn the children of their ability to steal money since they do NOT work and can NEVER be beaten. "But, Momma! I just wanna try and win that doll/stuffed animal/cell phone." (No joke, recently I saw a claw machine with a real cell phone as a prize. What is this world coming to?) Bert, in efforts to show Lightning that those things are a waste of money stuck 50 cents in the machine. Lightning pointed to the Nascar bear. Bert centered the claw over the redneck bear, mashed the red button, and watched in dismay as the piece of southern heritage went up, up and away to the opening. According to Bert, Lightning went bananas. A few store clerks cheered and nodded to Lightning, since they had heard Bert's warning of the claw machine being a shyster. Lightning loves the stupid thing and hasn't let it out of his sight for the past 36 hours straight. It even came with a certificate of authenticity. Yes, I'm serious.

I've never been so happy to see Monday, though Her Highness is home from school today with a sore throat and fever, and Lightning just announced that his "froat huwts" too.

Since Hail is now punching himself in the stomach again, I had better bring this novel of a post to an end. Perhaps I am a little whiny, though I've admitted before, I'm a horrible nurse to say the least. I appreciate you sticking with it, for it's therapy to me. And as my dear friend Dana says, much cheaper too.

Hope you were happy to greet your Monday too, though for different reasons. Here's to Tuesday!