Dear Elli,
Holiday weekends are great. We usually pack a whole lot of stuff in and totally rock out. And that's exactly what we did this weekend.
We started on Friday with a wedding. You weren't there, which was pretty awesome. Not because I don't enjoy your company, but rather because I almost never have the opportunity to enjoy exclusively adult company. I drank a little too much and had a freaking blast with some great people that your father and I don't see nearly enough. I also hurt my leg a little bit. But it's all good, cause when Lil' Jon says "Get Low", you are required to get freaking LOW! The fact that I'm a little older than I used to be is entirely irrelevant.
So you woke us from our rum-induced slumber at 6:30AM Saturday morning to head into Akron for the 2015 Color Vibe 5K! Woo hoo! Our team consisted of the three of us, Grandma Becky, and Michelle. We are a force to be reckoned with.
Before you get too excited, I'll point out that our team came in nearly dead last for the second year in a row. You are every bit as slow as Moses himself. There was a cop in a souped-up golf cart following us to the finish line. I think he probably hates us for extending his extra shift of souped-up golf cart driving. Who in the hell takes over an hour to get through a 5K? Us....that's who.
We came home and took a nap. I'm noting this because it's the first nap you've taken in two years, and I consider it to be a minor miracle.
We went for a boat ride after our nap, and you and your father caught some bluegill while I tried my damndest to land a bass with a rubber worm while your father worked the trolling motor in just about the least desirable way for someone who is trying to land a bass with a rubber worm. I blame him entirely that I did not catch a world record-breaking bass on Saturday.
Sunday, you and I spent the day together. And you actually cleaned your toy room by yourself. You only shrieked at the top of your lungs (like a total psycho) for about five minutes before you buckled down and handled business. That may or may not have been because I told you that a clean toy room was a requirement to participate in the Memorial Day Parade.
After the shrieking and cleaning was over, we went to hang out with Nanny. I had the bright idea to take you down into the woods to follow the stream and maybe relive my childhood a little. I did not remember the extent of the mosquito infestation in the woods.
We made it down to the stream before we were feasted upon. I swear to God I got us out of there in three minutes or less. But I'm looking at your arm right now, and I see eighteen bites. On one tiny arm. Your teacher is almost definitely calling children's services on me tomorrow. Only terrible parents who hate their children allow them to go into mosquito-infested woods without bug spray. I should be prosecuted. Thrown in a cell all by myself with only books to read. For at least three days. I deserve it. Please?
Anyway, now it's Memorial Day. I've tried several times to explain to you the meaning of this day, but you don't really get it. You look at me like I have three heads when I try to explain the fact that so many men and women have died for our country. The very idea that war exists is nearly incomprehensible to you. I'll keep trying to make sense of it for you, but I kind of hope you always think war is incomprehensible.
You participated in our Memorial Day Parade with the youth soccer program. I got to ride on the float with you because you're little and you require adult supervision. That means I got to wave at people like Miss America and throw Tootsie Rolls at little children. It was totally awesome. You liked it, too. I think. I was having way too much fun to worry about you. I'm joking. I know what you were doing. You were standing right next to me while I stole candy from your bag.
After the parade, we had a cookout at our house and you played in the yard with your cousins all afternoon. I ate like a pig and now I'm bloated. It was totally worth it. Every lady needs to eat til she's a bloated mess every once in awhile. You only live once, you know. YOLO!
I love you, and I want to thank you for an awesome weekend.
Mom, aka "Bloated Mess"
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