Hello, I’m back, just wanted to give my wife a break as she prepares for the stressful Holidays and all it has to offer. I’m gonna run you through the great Saturday I had this weekend with Missy and Junior.
Every year, Karen gets together with her grade school and high school girlfriends for an afternoon “tea” downtown, and then they do whatever women do for another twelve hours after it.
The Kings woke up and had a nice little opening to the Saturday with a trip to the Elmhurst Y. Karen does a Body Combat class, I do some cardio and through some iron around, as it is hunting season, and the Big Dawg needs to get the guns in shape. We send the kids to kids yoga, basically a baby-sitter that gives us a little freedom.
I get home drop Karen at the train for her day in Chicago. Come home, and ask what the kids want to do. Missy says, “Dad, I have a great coupon for Bath and Body Works, and Junior is out of Body Butter.” I’m thinking he is way to young to be using “body butter,” if it’s the kind I’m thinking of, but figure what the hell, let’s go. I don’t think I stink too bad, and we jump in the car
We arrive, and it’s me, a bunch of moms, two other guys, one looks excited as me to be there, the other is a worker who very well could have been Chaz Bono. However, it’s not long until I’m sniffing the 50 different types of candles they have there. Junior grabs his body butter, and continues to sniff various sprays, lotions and everything else. I start to get unsettled by this and claim it’s time to wrap it up. A $100 later, we grab some lunch, and head home.
Karen may have mentioned, we are unsuccessfully home-schooling Religious Education this year to our fine children. As a community service project, we had them go around the neighborhood and collect food for the local Food Pantry. Lousy day, but they went out and got it done.
In the meantime, I figure I’ll be handy, put on a tool belt and change a couple of light bulbs. In our basement, we have those cylinder fluorescent ones that you see in schools. I get everything tightened up, and promptly bust one of these bulbs all over the kitchen floor, spraying into the basement, and kitchen. I go to vacuum, and the extension on the vacuum doesn’t work, so I’m Dust Bustin’ the whole area with a gadget that is like trying to shovel snow with a teaspoon. I get it done and its time to go drop Missy at a birthday party.
She is getting ready to go and I hear a shriek, and of course she has a toe cut by glass. Of course, we might as well cut off her foot as the drama kicks in full throttle. I’m too damn lazy and blind to see if it is still in her foot so I put peroxide on it, band-aid her up, and put my “cushy” sweat socks on her and send her on her way. Meanwhile, I gotta have Junior in full hockey gear (and you know how knowledgeable I am on hockey) for a little outing at the Elmhurst YMCA.
This outing was an awesome event for Chicago Blackhawk fans, and the first 150 people there get Stan Mikita and Tony Esposito autographs. We jump in line, and I know we are 300 deep, but we had to wait regardless. Like any responsible parent, I give him my phone to play with while in line. After a half hour, he is cold and wants to go home. I mention that is was $50 (not true) and he’s not going home. Put your hands in your pockets (of course I didn’t give him a hat or gloves), and give me my phone back. He opts to keep the phone in hands and his mouth shut.
After another 15-minutes, I tell him if he does happen to get his stick signed by these two icons, we will keep it as a souvenir, and I’ll buy him a new stick. He is not happy, and says who are these guys? Again, Mr. Dork when it comes to hockey claims, well, “It would be like Babe Ruth signing a baseball.” His answer, “How old are these dudes, like 80?” I don’t have a good comeback on it, and just say, well let’s just check it out.
We get inside, as expected don’t get the autographs (which is probably a Godsend), and check out the place. He spots a couple of his buddies skating and takes off for the ice. I watch for about two minutes, and remembered there is a beer garden at this event.
I head to the garden, and it is now rainy, windy, and just a pretty lousy night. I run from the Y to the beer tent like I’m playing a marathon game of Frogger. Junior is having a blast skating in a monsoon, and I let him have his fun.
On one of my parental checks back to the ice, I see my college sweetheart for the first time in over 20 years. She is married the guy she dumped me for and introduces me to her husband for the first time. Two questions go through my mind immediately: “I wonder if she makes a mean casserole?” and “Should I take that Hawks jersey he’s wearing, pull it over his head, and pound the crap out of him like I should have 20 years ago?”
Of course being the class act I am, I don’t, and listen to where they live, how old their kids are, and all the stuff that is mandatory to ask/listen to in that situation. After the pleasantries, I race back to the beer tent because I have a few tokens left.
We leave, and I jam some food down Junior’s throat at about 10 p.m. and get the kids to bed.
A half hour later, I get the call from the wife, “I’m tipsy and getting on the 10:40, can you get me at the train station?” I pick her up at the train, get asked the same questions about ten times, and listen to normal drunken banter.
Bottom line, she had a great day, and so did we! Wish I had that casserole in the oven today, but there is always tomorrow!!!