This weekend was filled with all the best things. Rain. Family. Football. Ribs. Indoor use of bicycle helmets. I’m sad it’s over. I’m sad it’s Monday. I’m sad Breaking Bad ended. I’m sad I stepped on some of Jane’s  leggos this morning and permanently maimed my right foot.

But you know what I’m not sad about? The fact that tomorrow is October. My sister Rachel visited this weekend and we broke out the Halloween decorations a little early. Jane was totally into it, and claimed all the little pumpkins for herself. She decorated the windowsills with them. She hugged them. She carried on detailed conversations with them. She is totally my daughter.

I put rat silhouettes in the dining room walls, but we have to call them mice. Jane pets them, and kisses them, and says, “There’s no rat.” Mice are friendly (Cinderella). Rats are mean (Lady and the Tramp). It is as I feared. Our family’s axis has begun to spin according to Disney.

I don’t have much else to report. It’s just good around here. Pumpkin candle, bear hug, fall breeze, seasonal cupcake, slow pace, Jane giggles good. Really, really good.

 

It does not get better than this past weekend. Beautiful weather. Dinners with friends. New haircut, color and manicure. Fun at the park. My continued war on the brown walls upstairs. That last part may not sound like fun to other people, but with each stroke of the paintbrush I felt victorious. I felt like yelling, ” BE GONE, PUTRID FLESH COLORED 1991 BROWN PAINT!”

All joking aside, the entire 2nd floor of our house looks nothing like the ground floor. Shaggy carpet, banged up trim, dingy doors, cloudy windows, mildewed bathrooms. The upstairs is a bit “fixer” in style. I’ve also been informed that the heat and air units are basically shot. This big house is, in a word, overwhelming.

I’m  also planning Jane’s “big girl room” and it’s so fun. I’m excited for her to move out of her small nursery and into a big room with lots of space to play and run. White walls, lace curtains, twinkle lights, vintage bed frame… truthfully I’ll probably be a little jealous once it’s all said and done.

So that’s us. We’re just painting and park playing and thoroughly enjoying this A+ September.

I can’t imagine a happier beginning to the fall season.

Sometimes life just hands you a pearl. For instance,  I was skyping with Rebecca (my sister in China) and we were discussing books.

She said, “Yeah, my college professor assigned us East of Eden once, so I bought the book. I kept reading it and thinking, ‘But this can’t be Steinbeck? It’s kind of dirty.’ And then I realized the book I bought was Exit to Eden, not East of Eden. So that explained why the sales lady gave me a funny look.”

See? It was like the universe said, “I’m sorry it’s Wednesday, Liz. This week has been a bummer. Here, here’s a pick-me-up. Laugh at your sister.”

Apparently, the universe thought Jane needed a pick-me-up this weekend, as she discovered the joys of pushing me down the slide.

Truthfully, she enjoyed pushing me because she didn’t want to slide herself. She tried it once, got tangled up and went down butt first. Afterwards she decided her sense of survival was stronger than her need for adventure.

But after a while, I began to feel a bit, what’s the word? Abused. She got this wild look in her eyes and it quickly became apparent that this was more about revenge than fun. This was about payback.

“Remember that time you gave me a pink hair bow and I specifically asked for red?”

 “Remember when I put necklaces and a hat on Mabel and you told me that Mabel didn’t want to play princess with me?”

“Or that time I tried to pee standing up like the little boys in my daycare class and you told me I had to sit?”

“You’re going down old woman.”

“Just wait. Just wait until I choose your home. I’ll make sure you have brown walls and the cafeteria serves lots of noodle salad.”

And did I mention that after a certain amount of slide induced static build up I was my own personal battery? Every time I touched the slide a shock traveled through my fingers and out my teeth. Normally this sort of irritating, and recurring, pain would make me curse, but I couldn’t do that since Jane was maintaining constant vigil over my speed, saying things like, “Hurry up, Mommy! SLIDE MOMMY!”

After 4,000 trips down Jane’s slide of revenge I was done. This, of course, made the Janester furious, and all the way home she kept repeating, “We slide later.” An outsider would listen to her chirp “we slide later” and hear an angelic little chirpy voice. I, on the the other hand, know better. I know she was really threatening me with future sessions of static shock and being pushed off tall objects.

This is what comes from throwing mama off the slide.

It’s obvious that Jane’s love affair with her princess dolls is still ongoing. She’s very “my precious” about them, and heaven forbid I forget to include them in meal times, or bed times, or riding in the car. So that’s that.

On Saturday I had a three hour coffee date with the always lovely Jeanetta. She was my main partner in crime during Spiderpocolypse (I promise to give that topic its own proper post very soon). I have just adored her since the moment we met. Since then we’ve found out that we know lots of mutual people, and that our dads worked together for many years. I love that. I love it when you can just throw your hands up and say, “Yep. We were meant to be friends.”

Jeanetta also makes adorable things, among which are fabulous aprons. She made one for Jane and it has been the hit of the century. Most importantly, it has pockets, and Jane likes to walk around with her hands stuck in them. All. The. Time. Even when she’s trying to go to the bathroom. That’s been fun.

This weekend I got my new desk settled. It’s an old drop leaf table. It’s banged up, with scratches and scars and it desperately needs a coat of wax. But I love it so. I’ve never been a big fan of traditional desks. I never have enough space and the drawers get filled with clutter and junk. But I do so love a table.

I also love that it’s at the far end of the living room. I love having a writing space, but somehow, lately, I don’t want a room of my own. It feels like too much pressure, too much focus. Somehow putting my writing area right in the thick of things is working, and it takes some of the pressure off. It’s no longer the most important thing, with its own room and decor. It’s just another part of my life, stuck in the middle with everything else. This may not make sense to anyone else, but it’s been a revelation to me.

The rest of the weekend was filled with naps and fall weather and sliding at the park and the sounds of football in the living room. The leaves were falling from our oak tree, not a lot, just a little, and I could hear the creek behind the house. The house was dirty, I had five loads of laundry backed up, and the bathrooms hadn’t been cleaned in two weeks. But I just propped my feet up instead.

In fact, it’s Monday and all that stuff is still waiting. Cleaning will keep.

Fall weekends won’t.