Friday night started off like this. A nice cheese board, a summer candle burning, and a clean quiet house in preparation of my mom, sister, and niece and nephew coming to town.
The calm before the storm.
Within hours the monsters (I use that term lovingly) had arrived in Chicago and all hell had broken loose. Around 11 p.m. on Friday night Knox and Lola were literally running circles around the apartment screaming with their hands in the air. It was pure vacation adrenaline for those two. That and pure Fun Dip sugar. Good call, mom.
There was also the air mattress situation. An air mattress = child cocaine. The minute this thing went up the kids went nuts. They started foaming at the mouth and climbing the walls in anticipation of all the amazing things they could do on it. This pic is terribly blurry and grainy, but compared to the one I’m about to post underneath it, it’s not that bad.
Within seconds of the mattress being blown up this happened. And it didn’t stop happening the entire weekend.
It was intense.
What was even more intense was when Chris and I got the pleasure of babysitting Knox and Lola for eight hours on Sunday. Eight. Hours.
We did everything in the first 45 minutes. Park, donuts, zoo, McDonalds, more park, more McDs.
It was a treat. But I think we’re more of “dog people” at this stage in our life.
Our saving grace came Sunday evening when we got to sneak away to meet friends at the Four Seasons to test drive an Aston Martin and then grab a few drinks after.
The car was a real beauty, but it’s no Toyota Camry with a cracked windshield and a backseat forever covered in dog hair…. if you catch my drift.
And now it’s past midnight and I’m getting up in five hours to catch a flight to Denver. I haven’t even attempted to start packing so I should probably get on that. Mondays, ugh.
I’m so tired. I need another weekend to catch up.