I have to brag on the Lord because we had surprisingly good weather yesterday. So good, in fact, that I made Curt give a clap offering with me at the end of the night. I'm going to try not to say the "r" word because I know y'all are sick of it. So am I.
We had invited a few friends over to cook out last night. We would have a baby pool for the toddlers and eat outside with the squirrels, birds, and mosquitoes. Homegirl started stressing out a bit when (A) I wasn't sure Curt would be able to mow the lawn-slash-marsh if it didn't dry up. AND (B) I wasn't sure how we would grill burgers and hot dogs if wet stuff was falling from the sky. It would kind of cramp our style. Not that we have a style or anything because the Jones home is rarely the site for social gatherings. I do not have the hospitality gene that so many minister's wives have. And our house is 1,100 square feet on a fat day.
We decided the backyard was too soggy for our purposes and turned the front yard into the gathering spot. The grill, the baby pool, and the chairs were all set out there. By the time things got going, I realized I had made a huge mistake assigning Curtis to the food and myself to taking care of everything else and Jackson. Trying to supervise a very active toddler swimming in the front yard (when he'd rather be running down the street) and hostessing a gathering simultaneously? Stoooopid. Call me idiot girl. I deserve it. All I'm saying is, next time I'm getting a nanny. And if I don't, someone better bring a tranquilizer gun and shoot me with it when my child chokes on some cheese and blows chunks...again...in a high traffic area. And after I finish hosing it down, please prepare a cool compress for my head before he blows chunks...AGAIN...in the baby pool after gulping too much water.
An hour later, when I saw that my child had something crusty going on around his mouth and chest, it occurred to me that I forgot to clean him off after vomiting episode two. I asked Janelle and Sunni what it was like to have recently witnessed me in my most humiliating parenting moments. At least they love me.
The girls settled inside with the little ones and performed our eat-and-feed-at-the-same-time-tricks. A little while later we looked outside and saw all our husbands lounging peacefully and having complete conversations, eating seconds and thirds. We agreed that it would not be long before we marched outside with our dessert and politely insisted they trade places with us. It was a beautiful thing. We had 20 minutes of peace and deep conversation before it was time to load everyone up and head to a fireworks display.
We positioned ourselves on the perfect hill in Las Colinas and waited about 40 minutes for the fireworks to start going off. It seemed like they were really taking their sweet time. Then we figured out we were positioned completely wrong and the fireworks were already going off in the middle of a bunch of office buildings. It was way too late to move. We could only see enough to tease us - we knew what the people gathered at Williams Square were seeing was amazing! Oh well, it probably would have scared the babies.
The night was crazy in every way, but so much fun. I have some great memories to laugh about every 4th of July until I'm wearing my red hat and can't remember anymore. And really, when things go perfectly there's just nothing to write home about...or blog about.