Georgia and I had planned to drive up to North Carolina on Friday and spend a couple of days checking out some colleges. Seemed like a good weekend for the trip--Biggy was taking Lo to Gainesville to watch the Gators play, and Jack would be in Indianapolis for his band competition. But then it occurred to us: Biggy was taking Lo to Gainesville, Jack would be in Indianapolis; we'd have the whole house--the whole peaceful house--to ourselves. Why not wait to go to NC when they'd all be home? For now, there was nothing to get away from.
Hotdamn, we had about 56 hours of girltime, free and clear. We could dress up in black and heels and go somewhere nice for dinner. Or wear flannel pants all weekend and eat icecream out of the carton. We could run at the river without rushing back so Greg could go to Home Depot. We could sleep late and read the Sunday paper in any order we wanted.
Yeah, we stayed home.
Friday afternoon, we went for a leisurely jog, after which we got cleaned up and went to Ippolito's for pasta. The food was great, and the little waiter boy was excellent. George commented on his perfect balance of being solicitous yet giving us space. I said I was impressed by the fact that he was obviously smitten with her but showed great restraint.
After dinner, we went to see The Departed, which I liked and she loved. What's not to like about a movie with Jack Nicholson, Mark Wahlberg, Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, Alec Baldwin, Martin Sheen, and some beautiful new chick (Vera Farmiga) we've never heard of? It was full of intrigue, excessive violence, and clever dialogue.
During the ride home, I mentioned that it reminded me of The Godfather and found out George had never seen it. I was appalled by this failure of parenting. We decided to devote Saturday to Parts I and II. We cleaned the house (she offered to help!), jogged, took the dog to the vet, went to Publix and, lastly, stopped by Blockbuster. Back home, we put giant sweet potatoes in the oven to have with Brussels sprouts (since no one was around to make fun of us), and went down to the basement, Biggy's big-screen hidey hole, to watch the movies.
We made it through all but the final hour of Part II before I started dozing off and Georgia made me go to bed.
This morning, we drank our coffee and read the paper, spreading it all over the table and floor--something Biggy hates, and then we watched the rest of Part II. In the afternoon, we ran at the river, then thanked each other for a great weekend before she took off to spend a couple of hours with Garey--to throw him a bone before he heads back to Tech.
We only argued one time, because I made a reference to my philosophy that kids should be the boss of their food and their hair. (That's not to say I think kids should eat Hersheys Kisses for breakfast--just that I won't make them eat food they hate. And I don't care if they cut, frost, buzz, mohawk, or dye their hair--even platinum or fuschia.) Evidently, George has never forgiven me for allowing her to get blueberry highlights that time. She claims her hair has never been the same--that it changed her hair DNA or something.
She feels strongly that Lo should eat steamed cabbage and shouldn't be allowed to choose her cut or dye her hair until she's 18.
This conflict, which occurred while we were jogging yesterday, was heated and brief. We quickly agreed to disagree.
The rest of the weekend--smooth sailing. Perfect, really.
12 comments:
i can't believe you ate brussel sprouts and sweet potatoes. i felt supportive of you and georgia until i read that. now i just think y'all are sick and you didn't deserve a weekend off.
don't hate
Too much jogging, nasty food choices, cleaning house...for once, I'd have rather been with Lo and Biggy. Did I just type that? Must be some stray straight gene floating about.
I love how daughters around 20 suddenly become total experts and back-seat drivers on parenting - actually it's non-reversible as I'm finding out - and eventually leads to their shouting in your ear that you have bingo and would you like more tapioca?
Garey, true you didn't cry. She has you trained well. And of course you agree with her parenting style. Let me know when y'all publish your book.
Collin, we did have pasta Friday night, and salad with blue cheese dressing, and those killer rolls covered in butter/garlic/parmesan.
M. Ru, Georgia would never let me have seconds on tapioca.
i feel so sorry for garey. he is so mistreated. just let me know garey and i'll find you a paulding county girl who know how to treat her man.
Here here. This is why when people, typically the UBER LOUD and ultra-BOSSY moms, ask me about Ava's butt-length glorious display of golden hair, implying with their not-so-subtle queries how I must be over-indulging my child at some grotesque, Violet Beauregard-like levels, I merely smile and say, "Oh, it's a full-time job in itself! Beauty is sometimes a battle worth fighting." This typically shuts the lard-butts with the pursed lips right up.
You should have heard the "suggestions" I got all the time during the year Lola was Spiderman (I don't mean for Halloween; I mean as an everyday event).
Way more than the year Sadie was Dorothy and made everyone call her baby sister Toto--which I also allowed.
Come to think of it, this might be the reason for many of Georgia's issues with me.
Mmmm...rolls with butter. All is forgiven.
umm, collin, there was still the issue of brussel sprouts and sweet potatoes. who's side are you on?
Jeez, All I said was that Lola shouldn't be allowed to dye her beautiful bright red hair but she can cut it in any way she chooses. I think everyone would agree with me there.
And, Mom, you wouldn't eat it in the first place so there wouldn't be any questions about seconds...
... And I like brussel sprouts.
Oh, MF, I'm so torn. I'd rather cut off my toenails and send them to you an envelope than eat brussel sprouts. The rolls and butter momentarily distracted me. I'm a sucker for carbs.
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