Birthday Weekend

Monday again already and I'm back for more.

Some of the old "Fatdaddy Luck" came out of nowhere this weekend. It's the anti-Midas touch. Everything I put my hands on turns to crap.

Here's some highlights. The Boss and I both got sick on Friday and are still feeling lousy today. We have a disobedient child (Who will remain nameless because I'm madder than Pharaoh and have stricken her name from all the temples, obelisks, and family blogs until she gets her act together).

The kids fought all weekend, and thanks to the holiday and a teacher work day, they get to carry on fighting until Wednesday! Yipee!!

I also busted the faucet on the kitchen sink. The bearings in the base seized, and when I tried to force it to the other side of the sink, I busted the sucker right in half. Shot water right into my face, and when I flinched, the stream shot about twenty feet into the living room before I could get it shut off. Looked like something right out of a Jerry Lewis movie.

The funny thing is that on Monday night after the kids went to bed, I had told the Boss that I was worried.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I can't think of anything that is worrying me. There is ALWAYS something to be worried about. If I can't think of what it is, it's going to jump out of nowhere and bite me when I ain't looking. I'd rather have something to worry about than nothing."

Then Thursday night I missed my class, Friday I got sick, and then all the rest of it. I really should have known better. Thinking like that was an invitation to disaster. And the weekend didn't disappoint.

Am I Pessimistic? Yep.

Am I a glass is three-quarters empty kinda guy? Yep.

Has experience beat this lesson into my head with a cinder block? Affirmative.

"If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all."


Anyway. That was the bad part of the weekend.

There was some good. Saturday, Squizzle turned one. I'm not sure he noticed. He got a new sippy cup and some clothes. We took the kids to the dollar movies and saw "Planet 51". Was it the worst cartoon ever made? No. But it was pretty far from Pixar. The kids didn't care, they just wanted to get out of the house. I spent the last half in the lobby with an uncooperative birthday boy. He wasn't mad, just excited. He kept shouting at the screen and trying to get off my lap and crawl around.

The floor at the valley fair movies is not exactly the old Green Briar (I know there are plenty of readers that have fond childhood memories of that dump) but if you think I'm gonna let my kid crawl around on it during flu season, you're too dumb to continue reading. So he and I went out to the lobby and walked around. For an hour. I'm too fat for that kind of exercise.

Afterward, we used the gift cards we got from Santa's reindeer at Christmas to pick up an extra special treat. Dinner at Cafe Rio. The Boss is especially fond of the place but by the time we got everything home, she was feeling sick again and hardly ate.

We got substitutes for church and I watched the Colts pound the Ravens (go Austin Collie) and tried to watch the BYU basketball game. What a butt-kicking that was. BYU could become scary-good in the next few years.

The girls fed their brother a cupcake, but neither the Boss nor I had the energy to let him loose on one for the traditional "Smash cake". Everyone wants the funny pictures, but no one wants to clean up the mess afterward. Somehow, I don't think he cared much.

Happy First Birthday, Squizzles.

Stop growing now. Please. No talking and No walking. As your grandpa says, "You spend a few years teaching them to walk and talk and the rest of their lives telling them to sit down and shut up." And as Homer Simpson says, "The sooner you talk, the sooner you start talking back." I like you fine the way you are.

Sunday, with callings covered, we stayed home from church and tried to sleep in but by then the baby was feeling lousy again. He gets really clingy and really loud. My kid? Loud? Who'd a thunk it?

And of course, Sunday was Ryan's birthday. If I did my math right, he'd have been twenty six. The Boss celebrated by posting the link to the Rooftop story on her face book page. I know that Ry's b-day can be a real tear-trigger for some, but cleaning up my story and posting it was much more difficult for me personally.

I know he's fine. I miss him, but he was right. I'll see him again. I can't believe how fast the time is going, and I bet you can't either. Three and a half years now. I know for a fact he'd tell us not to blink.

Happy Birthday, Little Brother.