Weekend Update

Saturday I woke up In A Mood. It just seems like we haven't seen the sun in ever so long, although I think it did make a brief appearance sometime last week. But a few days in a row without sun? That's not normal. That messes with you.

In attempt to boost my mood, I went to the gym to swim. Remember my resolution to swim three times a week? It's going well, thanks for asking.

Except when I got to the pool I had to wait 15 minutes to swim because a kid threw up in the pool during swim lessons and they had to put some kind of disinfectant in the water. I just thought you'd like to know that.

So, I swam 2,300 yards, which is good because this week I added 100 yards each time I went. I thought you'd like to know that, too.

And then I went home and I did just the best thing. I took a nap. And it was like, my kid was watching a movie and I didn't even fully confirm with my husband that he was watching the kid while I took a nap. And really it was only kind of a half-asleep nap, because at some point the kid came in and I turned on a DVD of that effing Caillou. But afterward I was well-rested, which was a good thing because we had plans to leave the house after 4 p.m.

It was my official birthday dinner! But on the way we went to the mall. I'm not used to the mall playground on Saturdays, but it is like the biggest clusterf*ck of insanity you have ever seen. Approximately 75 little screaming balls of pent-up energy, running and climbing in some kind of chaotic swarm. That playground is good birth control, which is probably why they put the Claire's accessories right next to it, so all the little tweens and teens can see their futures if they don't use protection. (Although strangely on the other side of the playground there's a Motherhood Maternity, so it's too late for those poor people.)

So, after the mall we tried to go to dinner at this one brewery place. But they said the wait was 35-45 minutes. I thought we should wait, but Bill said there was no way Nathan would make it. So we made our way south, stopping at three other restaurants, all of which had waits ranging from 45 minutes to an hour and 15 minutes. I thought people were dining out less often. Who are all these people?

Anyway, I finally decided we would go for take-out Mexican at this place with the extremely gringo-ified name of Buenas Nachos. (Although, help me out, Spanish-speaking people. Shouldn't it be Buenos Nachos, with an o? I guess maybe they did that because you would say Buenas Noches, with an a?) Anyway, despite the name, it's actually one of the more authentic Mexican food places in the area.

Also by then I realized we would have been seated at the original place had we just stayed there, so I made my husband admit I was right. That was birthday present enough right there.

But, good dinner at Buenas Nachos, even though I'm not so sure it was una noche buena overall.

Sunday I woke up rarin' to go. I was like, Bring it on, household chores! And first I went to the gym and ran on the treadmill. And I kicked that treadmill's ass, wherever a treadmill's ass may be.

Unfortunately it was one of the two Sundays a year when my husband has to go downtown to attend the graduation for the law school where he teaches. So I was on my own with the kid, which was a problem because I had to make a trip to (bum, bum, bum!) the grocery store.

I don't know what it is that makes me hate the grocery store with an all-consuming, burning passion. I like shopping. I like food. But shopping for food is like the most unpleasant chore ever. I hate the stupid meal-planning and list-making. I hate having to make room for the groceries by throwing out stuff I spent good money on at the grocery store the previous week. I hate making all the decisions as to what is most healthful/least expensive. I hate the line and the carrying bags in the house and the putting away, oh God the putting away.

And it's like a gazillion times worse with the kid. Never, not once, has my child been in a phase of his life where he was pleasant at the grocery store. The following is a run-down of my kid's pain-in-the-ass grocery store phases:

• The Crying Phase (birth to 1 year)
• The Climbing Out of the Cart Phase (1-2 years)
• The Fine-You-Can-Just-Walk/Knocking Over Everything on the Shelves Phase (2-3 years), and I swear during this phase on two separate occasions the child knocked over and broke some large, expensive bottle of liquor, and I was so frustrated/embarrassed it was all I could do not to lick the spilled contents off the floor
• The Disappearing Phase (3-3.5 years), which included the time I was searching for him frantically and another customer told me he had gone out the door and was (gulp) heading for the parking lot (yeah, that was a real Mother of the Year moment there)
• The Begging for Everything Phase (3.5-15? years), and yes, I know there are probably solutions to this problem, sound parenting practices such as "being firm" or "setting limits," but I have chosen the solution of "complain about it on my blog"

So, Sunday's grocery store trip felt like some kind of athletic event, and I was exhausted when it was over. And I still had to do crap like folding laundry (but not putting it away, remember?) and making dinner and blah, blah, blah, Midwest Suburban Housewife.

And that, folks, is a recap of my oh-so-fascinating weekend.