The Weekend That Was

This weekend started okay - but something happened along the way to alter the universe.

Friday evening was an ideal evening. The weather had been cold and dreary all day, so I made a beef stew for supper. It was the perfect comfort food, and everyone seemed to enjoy it, so I was pleased. Unfortunately, Main Man got a hold of the hot sauce, so it was ever-so-spicey for my liking, but I could live with it.

Main Man went monitor-shopping after supper. (He found a great one, by the way. All of my blogfriends seem larger than life now!) The boys were amazing! I think everyone was just so happy not to be rushing off to some sort of meeting or activity (including me). #1 sat in his bedroom, playing his guitar and reading. #2 and #3 played a very elaborate game involving action figures, hills and valleys in their comforters, and their imaginations. It was phenomenal that they played in the bedroom they share for over an hour and a half without one temper flare from either of them. I couldn't believe it! I, in turn, got a chance to get a head start on my weekend marking.

Saturday morning started off rather well also. I cleaned the bathroom (fairly) thoroughly before I even got dressed. Then, I cleaned out the fridge (because we were expecting a repairman sometime after 10:30 a.m. to repair a fridge leak). Then, because repairmen never arrive on time, I did come more marking as I waited for him to arrive. The repair didn't take long, and, although it cost us about $150, it's nice not to step in a puddle every morning when we walk into the kitchen.

This next paragraph is when the weekend took a turn for the worse.

#2 was very excited to start his group guitar lessons. His first lesson was to be held just after lunch on Saturday. As we didn't know exactly which room they would be meeting in, we arrived at the conservatory building a bit early. As we walked in, there was a sign informing people which rooms to find their classes in. No sign of #2's class on the list. We found a security guard and asked his help. He was an older man - a dear one at that - and, although he had no idea where to send us, he insisted on helping us find the room. He took us to every studio in the building, up and down many flights of stairs. Finally, twenty minutes after the scheduled start of class, we had to give up. I drove home, a despondent nine-year-old in the back seat. Main Man got on the phone and, after a few hours, got a hold of the teacher. The class had to be cancelled - insufficient registrants - and the teacher thought the conservatory office would inform us. Evidently, the conservatory office thought the teacher would inform us.

Later, Main Man and I went linoleum shopping. The cuts and nicks in the kitchen linoleum we've had since we moved in over ten years ago are finally getting to us. I have such a tough time with a job like this. I hate shopping - for anything. When it comes to something like linoleum, everything looks the same after a couple of hours. And, although he vehemently denies it, it doesn't really matter what I like; Main Man will end up talking me into whatever he chooses anyway, so what's the point of spending my valuable time "browsing"?

Anyway, I just have to tell you a story about our shopping trip. At one point, I felt very thirsty, so I said I would like to stop and buy a bottle of water or a Diet Coke. Main Man said, "What you need is an energy drink." I said, "No, I don't like energy drinks. I would like some water or some Diet Coke." Well, you guessed it - he walked out of the convenience store with a Rock Star Energy Drink. It tasted like medicine. I couldn't get past the fourth sip. His comment? "Awww, come on - you're just determined to mope today, aren't you? Drink it up. You'll thank me later."

Huh?

Sunday morning didn't fare much better. I was determined not to stress myself out getting ready for church. More often than not, I spend most of Sunday morning barking at my children to hurry up or they'll make me late.

(A little bit of background here: I am a Sunday School teacher. We have a co-ordinator who guides us and usually leads the opening, teaches the kids new songs, makes announcements, things like that. Unfortunately, she has many environmental allergies, and, because of some painting that was done in the church over the summer, she cannot enter the church for several months. Somehow, I have become chief cook and bottle washer on Sunday mornings.

And now - back to our regularly scheduled programming...)

As a result of my efforts, we managed to maintain some sanity in our Sunday morning, but we arrived slightly later than we usually do. Sunday School begins at 10:30; we arrived at about 10:18. I still felt I had time to set up, but I would be a bit rushed. As we started upstairs to the Sunday School rooms, a young mom and her daughter were just coming down. The mom's comment, "Oh, someone's here now." And I felt it was a bit of a snippy tone. I almost lost it - maybe it was just because I had been reining in my temper all morning - but I just about told that lady she could run the Sunday School for a few months. (I know, I know - not a very Christian sentiment.)

Anyway, it feels good just venting.

I will try to be a little more positive in my next entry. To all of you who lasted to the end of this diatribe, I salute you!