Mother's Day Weekend

In Elizabethtown, Mother's Day last for an entire weekend. I highly recommend this scenario even for those of you living in your own little suburbs of family life. And Mother's Day weekend means that I get to choose whatever we do. (And don't worry that I'm not just lolling about. The doctor's said that was not necessary after 24 hours and I spend loads of time lolling on Thursday and Friday.) So here is the run down of the MOST AWESOME Mother's Day weekend ever.

Friday night, watched Slumdog Millionaire. Yep. It really is as good as everybody says it is.

Saturday Morning, we hit the yard sales family style, going to a neighborhood community yard sale. Sloan would simply drive up, stop, I'd leer, and we'd move on to the next one if nothing caught my fancy. But people, I racked up some good stuff. Watch out, Rebecca Perry, your status as the Yard Sale Queen may just be in jeopardy. Here is the rundown...

• 1 leaf blower, vacuum, mulcher thingy: Listed for $50. Paid $25.
• One TOMY gear toy, one construction puzzle, and one Thomas the Tank Engine Magnetic book with no magnets missing: Listed for $5, $3, and $3. Paid $5 for all three.
• One three drawered Tupperware drawers thingy: Listed for $8. Paid $3.
• Set of bongos with dinosaurs painted on them: Listed for $5. Paid $1.
• Framed with glass print of Babar flying airplane: Listed for $12. Paid $4.
• And the ultimate talisman of my yard saling prowess--One Little Tykes Purple Dinosaur Sandbox: FREE!!!!!!! That's right people. I noticed it had a crack in the lid (easily fixed by that Mighty Putty stuff from TV), and voila! that afternoon Sloan was pushing 600 lbs of sand around in a cart in home depot.

Then we went out for breakfast at River City Dinner. Eggs, grits, bacon, and hot chocolate. Yum Yum Yum.

Then it was off to the Short Pump mall to see two of my nieces dressed up as Oompa Loompas at one of my favorite places in the world--Barnes and Noble. And books were bought by everyone. This was during the time that I let Sloan roam for books while I watched Henry. And since I can't pick him up, I had to enlist his Oompa Loompa cousin, Rebekah, to wrangle him back to the train table.

Then we took a ride on the Short Pump Train which was quite possibly the greatest moment in Henry's little life.

He road the whole way, smiling and saying, "Choo choo." The only thing that stopped him from choo-chooing was his new love of Exit signs. (Should you ever be in a burning building, pray you've been there with my son, as he will have pointed out to you EVERY. SINGLE. SIGN. He points to them and says "EEEEEEE EHHHH IIIIII TEEEEE." That's right. The boy can't say the word exit, but he can spell it for you. We should've name him Fire, so he could be Fire Marshall Phillips.)

Sloan having to explain to a forlorn Henry that he can't go on another train ride. But promising that he will ride the train again soon.

Then home for nap time--aka "lie on the couch and read time" while Sloan does yard work. I finished my sappy book and started a book I'm really enjoying. You see, I have a problem. I'm pretty sure that I've never not finished a book I started. (That's not true. I'm pretty sure that in middle school I attempted reading the Bible from cover to cover no less than four times. I don't think I ever made it out of Genesis.) Generally, I feel I owe it to the author to complete what he or she worked so hard on. Well, people, I read the Shack. It's this story about a forlorn man who meets God in person in a shack. While I understand what the book's intent was and even applaud it, discounting the several theological problems I had with the book, I thought it was trite. Cheesy. Kind of like if Michael W. Smith and Nicolas Sparks had a love child. (Which is disturbing in and of itself on many levels.) But I'm done with it! And now onto the godless book, Bad Mother, by Ayelet Waldman (thank you, Angie for your posting of the NY Times article on her on Facebook). I can guarantee that this book will warrant its own post when I finish it.

And Sunday morning did not disappoint, either. Henry slept in until 7:45. So I got breakfast in bed with just my sweet Sloan. Obeying the rules of Sugar Sundays, Sloan brought me (on a silver tray no less) two slices of pound cake, a bowl of strawberries, and a crystal goblet full of Diet Dr. Pepper. Breakfast of champions, people.

And we had lunch of champions as well, at Fleming's.
Yes, I have a corsage. That's how awesome I am.

Or maybe I'm not so awesome as Henry is giving me the Heisman as I try to snag a kiss.

Why is Mommy asking for a kiss so funny?

Thanks for the kiss, Henry. A little less tongue next time.

And again, Henry's afternoon nap time was spent how we used to spend every Sunday afternoon before Henry was born--cuddled up with one another and our books. Could there be anything better than to have your legs entwined with your beloved while reading? Bliss. Not to be outdone by his father, Henry is in "book time Sundays" training as well.

All in all a good Mother's Day weekend. The only downer was when during church I suddenly realized that,if I'm lucky, I will not be able to pick up and hold my dear son for the next nine months. He'll be a man by that time. Or at least wearing a size 2 men's shoe.

I think the key to having a wonderful Mother's Day is having a wonderful spouse. Henry has such a wonderful father. Despite the fact that I completely forgot, Sloan is the kind of man who remembered that yesterday was the 2 yr anniversary of when we were able to bring the pickle home from the hospital. And the six year anniversary of our first kiss.

My dearest Sloan, perhaps in addition to All My Life, I should add to the list How Sweet it is to be Loved by You.