The thing about burning your face off is…….that you’ve burned your face off. So, you’re not as likely to go in public and show your melting nose and chin to the neighborhood. (Although I WILL say around these SoCal parts, I’ve seen much worse.) As such, I stayed in my house all weekend, wearing old exercise pants and a skin-flaked fleece sweatshirt. (I’d show you pictures, but I’m still getting over the fact that I posted my fake boob job here, a Flickr photo that received well over 100 views, while my kid photos languish in the little-visited 2-view land.)
So on the homefront this weekend, things stayed pretty normal, with Toots saying trademark Tootisms like, “I’m a warrior.” And with me saying, “Why?” And with her replying, “Because I smell like one.” And with Booger scooting her shopping cart/baby buggy/carrier of all her earthly possessions around the kitchen floor for hours, quietly I might add, as Toots bounced around from thing to thing, finally settling on making a science experiment (Oh! And Mommy! Listen to this: I’m going to take a rock from the garden, smush it up, add water, suck it into the turkey baster and put the mixture into a verrrrry small egg.“)
Now normally, I’d work out of the house on Saturday morning, while The Rock watches the girls. Then, I’d come home, clean a bit, cobble together some kind of meal and collapse while the kids scurry to and fro. Later, if I’m lucky, it’s Date Night. On Sunday, The Rock might get a workout in, or we share a communal breakfast, and afterward, we’ll do some family time, like a Costco trip or jumping up and down on The Rock’s head as he tries to watch sports on TV. Often, we’ll throw a walk or friends or a park in there somewhere.
THIS weekend like I said, I lolled about inside. I still worked, but I did it unshowered and at the kitchen table (where I am now). The Rock took the kids to the Natural History Museum and I sipped my own decidely non-Starbucksy coffee, wrote stuff, edited things, swept skin crusts off my keyboard and just sat here. Oh! And also I ate tamales misted with charred skin bits, which have a tendency to drift onto my tongue or whatever it is I’m eating at the time.
On Sunday, The Rock got a few things done (Chargers, Chargers, Chargers) and I made paper bag puppets with the girls and watched back-to-back reality shows (Top Design and that salon makeover show with the squinty-eyed, blonde dominatrix) and almost become a psychologist online in just 3 hours. Also! I read a catalog ALL THE WAY THROUGH. Like, from page 1 to page 36. ALL OF IT. EVERY PAGE WITHOUT INTERRUPTION.
(I checked. Hell’s thermometer still read 1,000 million degrees.)
I’d forgotten what it’s like to just stop for a minute. Usually, the kids don’t cooperate and that’s OK. They’ve got baby buggys to push and little eggs to impregnate with rock mush. But this weekend, I don’t know. Maybe they felt sorry for my face? Either way, I did slow down and it made a bunch of difference.
I highly recommend the taking it easy thing.
Sometimes a catalog, a little Bravo TV and a teeennny egg are just what the doctor ordered.
Don’t wait until your face burns off either.
What’d you do this weekend?