(insert Ke$ha here)
But we all know it's really about the sweatpants. Hanging out in sweatpants. Watching bad TV in sweatpants. Eating my weight in Cadbury mini eggs in sweatpants. Sweet, sweet sweatpants..
Sorry. I'm getting carried away. The weekend. We're talking about the weekend.
It started off with some morning face.
"I need to fix my hair, Mom!"
Then after tiring of seeing Owen do nothing but play PS3 for TWO hours, I declared that not only was the rest of Saturday to be video game free, but he also needed to do something creative.
It was quickly decided that I was "THE MEANEST MOM EVER!"
But then the wheels in his head started turning.
"Mom, take a picture of me eating Oreos while Owen works!"
One whole roll of tape, some notebook paper, markers, crayons, scissors, and a messy living room floor later..
Hold on. I have to consult my notes.
Oh....a Star Wars world with separate chambers for the good and bad guys.
It promptly broke into pieces when he tried carrying it up the stairs thus creating what could have become the meltdown of the century.
I wanted to go thrifting. Thrifting is what I would consider a solo sport. Meaning, LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME SHOP PEOPLE. I have it down to an art form. There's just something about second-hand clothing and tchotchkes that really get my blood pumping on a Sunday. That or it's the adrenaline rush that comes with hoping your purse doesn't get stolen by the numerous sketchy looking folks that frequent my favorite thrift store.
John and the kids decided they wanted to come along.
Immediately upon walking in, John proclaims that, "It smells OLD in here."
We lasted a whole 10 minutes before husband got the "Get me out of here" look on his face.
So we got out of there. And I'm vowing to never bring the entire tribe with me again.
After a couple more John-friendly establishments, we headed home. Promptly upon arriving, John decides to play circus clown and starts making balloon animals, much to the delight of the children.
He made lightsabers!
And puppy dogs! That was it though. He's a just a beginner clown, after all.
All that balloon making made us hungry.
It's decorate your own pizza night!
Bacon, bell peppers, pepperoni, bacon, mushrooms, bacon, ham, bacon...did I mention BACON?
Owen tries in vain to steal hand fulls of my precious bacon.
Back off, homeboy.
Remy settled for his thumb.
Almost eating time!
Quick they're not looking!
What? I have no idea where all the bacon went!
I was busted by Remy.
And then we ate pizza, watched Diary of a Wimpy Kid and lived happily ever after.
Or at least until Monday.