Hubs was out of town this past weekend, so it was just me and the Q-man hanging out. We totally survived and everything went fine. But pulling double duty for four days, we didn’t have time for any real adventures. Our weekend went mostly like this:
- Q woke up.
- I fed him.
- We played, ran errands, took a walk and went to the park.
- I fed Q again.
- He napped. (I rejoiced.)
- He woke up, and we played some more.
- I cooked dinner. Q ate it. (Halle-frickin’-lujah!)
- We did the bath/bedtime routine.
- Q slept all night.
- I stayed up too late catching up on blogs and episodes of Breaking Bad. (Thank you, Netflix! I just finished season three and caught up with Hubs so we can start watching season four together. If you leave a spoiler in the comments, I swear to GAWD , I will… well, I don’t know what I will do. Except be very sad. Please don’t make me sad.)
So that was pretty much it. We had a low-key, mundane weekend. I kept Q alive and the house from falling apart, which is pretty much what I do every day.
Except for one thing.
My friend who moved to Atlanta a couple years ago came back to visit and stayed one night with me. It was fabulous having her here! We talked and laughed and had a great time after Q went to sleep. A bottle of wine may or may not have been consumed. I’ll never tell.
I went to sleep that night with a smile on my face knowing that my dear friend was snuggled up all cozy and warm in our guest room.
We had just had an awesome, cleansing, validating conversation about life, love, relationships and all that usual girl stuff. So on a slightly buzzed-on-wine whim, I whipped out my phone and left this note on her Facebook wall:
Yeah... So... I wrote that.
Maybe it was because my mommy brain lives on almost eighteen months after Q’s birth. Maybe it was just a subconscious slip because my last post is still weighing on my chest. Or maybe because I’m all fired up over Ted Akin’s comments that everyone’s buzzing about. (You’re a fucking asshole, Ted Akin. Legimately.)
Anyhoot, not sure why I had a total lapse in smarts there, but the moral of the story is that friend-rapists are bad and friend-THERAPISTS are great.
Just to be clear.