So there's this really trendy thing people are doing these days; one last hoorah together before the baby comes. The "Babymoon", more or less mimicking the honeymoon, is a relaxing good time, a justification of spending money on vacation when you're bleeding money like a stuck pig on brand new things for your new arrival that you'd like to have for yourself.......like a new bedroom suit or mattress or clothes or toys. But instead of both people getting to kick their feet up and drink rum all day, one has to get up and go the bathroom every hour and put a little bit of pineapple juice in her sprite so she can pretend it's a spiked tropical beverage.
As much as we love jumping onto vacation bandwagons and rationalizing reasons to spend money on travel, it just wasn't in the cards for us this spring. Too much to do, too little time to do it, and too tight of a banking account to do it with. So we opted to trade the sound of seagulls and waves crashing against a gulf shore for crickets and air-boats along the Brazos at my parents house. 
By the time the Friday before last rolled around, we were ready to get our weekend of tranquility started! Unfortunately, between the powers of technology diligently working against me, naughty gnomes hiding things I wanted to bring, my current state of total forgetfulness causing me to shatter a picture frame I purchased only hours earlier, and Patrick accidentally backing into our Corolla with the hitch in the 4Runner (punching a nice hitch-sized hole into the front bumper because they make everything out of plastic these days but charge you as if it were made of gold), our start to a peaceful makeshift babymoon transpired into nothing less than an evening of disarray.
I can normally handle a fair load of disastrous events, but this jam packed muddle of unfortunate catastrophes felt overwhelming to my hormonal overloaded vessel of a body. Long story short......I cried......which in turn just made Patrick feel helpless and confused. Then my mom called to tell us that we could no longer have our own sanctuary in the camper, as planned, because they discovered a water leak, AND she just learned a mouse had nested in it over the winter, reeking all sorts of mouse havoc on anything it could reach.
This may have been the moment that would have pushed most people over the edge of sanity, but we decided to laugh in the face of affliction!!!!
What? It's suppose to rain all weekend with a chance of tornadoes?!?!? Screw you, you dirty hooker inconveniences and your little mishaps too!!
Who cares that it's so windy outside my dang hat wont stay on. I'll just string it with a tiny rope and tie it under my chin so I can look like a swollen billy goat kickin' it in my spider egg covered lawn chair with my puffy feet soakin' in the frigid river water.
There's always one whimp in the crowd that just can't hang, though. This time it was my father, who was too cold in the water to drink his beer, so he got out to dawn his towel scarf and leather work gloves, hoping his creative accessories would supply him with enough warmth to survive. I, on the other hand, wasn't budging. I'll give you one hint on why: no one wanted to sit down stream from me.
Ladies and Gents, there's a new rock skipping champ in town. His name starts with a L, ends with a N, and definitely doesn't rhyme with hatrick.
In the end, everything worked out for a pretty satisfactory weekend of relaxation.......until we meet again, you skanky pranks of the Devil.
For the sake of talking about water, and because I love these cleverly funny True Facts videos, here's one about the Octopus.
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