Apocalypse Weekend, part uno: Birthday

Well, we've kicked off Apocalypse Weekend with a bang.

Naturally, The Royal Birthdays are today, so we started on our usual pilgrimage: beach, lunch at Grandmother's, and home. Sounds easy, right?

We told the kids that it was too cold to swim at the beach this year, and The Boy reluctantly agreed. We decided to go walking on the beach in shorts and take some pictures. Apparently, The Girl really didn't grasp our meaning until we were set to leave. Then she started the screaming for a swim suit. We loaded everyone up in the car and the screaming died down -- until we got to the beach when it started again full volume.

Remember that trip to the Pioneer Village? Yup, only this time, it was The Girl who tried to claw her eyes out until we removed her from the living hell that we call a gorgeous fall day at the beach. Really, it was beautiful -- sunny, breezy, brisk -- all the things you could ask from Christmas Eve at the beach. And The Girl couldn't get back into the car fast enough. I'll try to post some pictures of her torment.

Lunch went pretty well. I'm assuming that the children won't go bow-legged before the holidays are over, so eating potato chips for lunch probably won't kill them. Right? The home-made ice cream cake with crushed Oreo filling was delicious. The presents were all met with approval, even exultation in some cases. The adults went and talked in the living room while the kids hung out in the back bedroom. All was well. The Holiday Gods were smiling on us again. Until The Boy threw it all up. Most of it made it to the bathroom. The Husband and I scrubbed the rest of it out of the carpet. What do they dye those Oreos with anyway?

So, we're home and that grating sound is our shifting gears from Birthday into Christmas Eve. The husband mysteriously disappeared immediately after we got home to go to Target. I'm not sure what it means, but I'm too tired to care. Hopefully it won't be too expensive. And there's an outside chance that he's buying something for moi. A girl can dream, right?

We'll be heading to chapel around 4:30 for more eye-gouging from The Girl, then for Chinese take-out, which The Boy will only pick at. He won't part with the tradition, but he won't eat it either. I think it's like falling in love with love. Not sure. Wish us luck!!