Basket case

It was mostly a weekend of domestic extravagances and filial frivolity, and I its Dionysian overseer.  I can say this now because John Sleeman has generously volunteered to soften the landing of a Sunday evening, which often comes more abruptly and more harshly than warranted or desired, but which is today mercifully cushioned by a couple clear glass bottles of Cream Ale, my bare feet kicked up on the couch while the dishes by the kitchen sink are subjected to the natural convenience of evaporation.

This brings to mind a favourite quote:

"We can't for a certainty tell
What mirth may molest us on Monday;
But at least, to begin the week well,
Let us all be unhappy on Sunday."
~Charles, Lord Neaves

I am not, for the record, unhappy.  Quite contented this Sunday eve, actually.

My wife absented herself from her men for a good part of the weekend, which I rarely begrudge her, given how frequently she has to put up with us, the demands placed upon her by the younger two, and (marginally less frequently) those I place on her.  She went to a silent auction for a girlfriend's community league on Saturday and didn't come home until late.  At least, I'm assuming it was a silent auction.  She said it was.  For all I know it could have been yet another Home Pleasures Party under the thin guise of a harmless auction.  (Our most recent HPP receipt was another board game called "Who's the Biggest Pervert."  For 2 to 6 players.  Now THAT will be interesting when cracked!)

She spent a chunk o' Sunday helping craft birth announcements for another girlfriend's sister's incoming kid.  I think I bemoaned the fact, Friday over supper, that I rarely make plans for myself for any given weekend.  I cited domestic obligation as the prime culprit who regularly catalyses that little social fiasco; this was after Amy asked me if I felt "tied down".  I sure as hell do NOT feel tied down.  As a husband and father I am smack dab in the middle of where I want to be.  It can, though, sometimes be an exclusionary endeavour.

The weather started to turn this weekend.  The sun never shone through until late Sunday, but it was decent enough for Amy to bag all the leaves I'd raked earlier in the week - 10 bags' worth - and for me to get the boys out for a couple of good long walks after our suppers.  Sunday's walk was particularly invigorating since my domestic Bacchanalia had encompassed four loads of laundry, two baby's naps, way too many hours of Treehouse TV, grocery shopping, a blueberry chocolate chip pancake breakfast (with bacon!), watching the baby try to strangle himself with the vacuum cord (again), and discovering that we really do need seven soothers in the house because there are never more than two clean or un-lost at any one time.

I needed to get out of the house, so I took the boys and the dog for a walk to the liquor store.

I was delighted to find that a case of 12 bottles of Sleeman's Cream Ale fits perfectly in the basket under the rear seat of our double stroller.  A good long walk home, and all that was left was to wait until both boys were down for the count - Dex obliged by conking out early - and the beer and the couch called with their siren song.

I still have to put those dishes away.

*****
(random weekend pics after the jump.)

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Declan is lost without his magnetic Crayola drawing board.  He creates and destroys sometimes dozens of masterpieces per day.  Here we have captured his rendition of the long-extinct Fang-Tailed Amphibious Whale, mid-spout.

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The past few weeks, California strawberries have been one of our only reliable signs of spring.

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Good thing my wife didn't enter into that silly Bloggers Choice awards thing under the Hottest Mommy category.  She is teh hawt!  (And regularly complains of not being photogenic.)

Comments

[wil]

Sounds like you had a good, full weekend, even if it did involve maintaining the 'domestic tranquility'.

Amy needs to look around the web at other bloggers' photos. She's more than hot -- she's smokin'!

[Mark]

I find myself in the same situation -- I fail to attempt to make plans, and so I end up doing nothing social on the weekends. Unless we happen to do something as a couple or a family, that is. Let's cure both our ills by inventing a transporter. You're the engineer. What's the hold-up?

[Moksha Gren]

We had a similar weekend. We tend to go visiting at some friends house on Friday evenings, but with their eldest just entering preschool, their house is often a den of illness. We recieved the call on Friday that we should avoid bringing our daughter into the contaminated dwelling. So, we relaxed instead. Read alot.

I'm impressed with Dex's artistic talent. I've seen wildlife artists who failed to capture the majestic spirit of the Fang-Tailed Amphibious Whale as well as he did.

Great shot of Tav! Judging from the huge drip of strawberry juice on his hand, I can only imagine there was a fair amount of clean-up involved after this snack. Ah well...strawberries are worth it.

And finally...totaly hot, dude.

[Simon]

wil, I think I'll change my title to "Domestic Tranquility Maintenance Engineer". I like the ring of it.

Mark, the laws of nature are the hold-up. I think matter transport is currently in the experimental stage, but only at the scale of light photons. Humans, being marginally larger than photons, will have to wait a while. Like, at least a month or so.

Moksha, that Dex was able to draw that from memory was impressive, considering that he only saw the Fang-Tailed Amphibious Whale one time; and well over a year ago. Tav's strawberry did,indeed, engender a bit of a mess -- but just all over himself (and my shoulder), and we're less careful about his clothes these days since there won't be anyone to hand them down to.

[rna]

"A Sunday in Scotland is for the traveller like a thunderstorm at a picnic." Thedor Fontane, Beyond the Tweed, Pictures & Letters from Scotland 1860

I rejoice to learn that Sunday in Canada is less doleful than in old Caledonia. But do you really want to encourage Dex in that art thing? Never too early to start a boy out with a t-square and graph paper.

Here's a post-Sunday poem for you and (Totally Hot) Amy:

O Jean, my Jean, when the bell ca's the congregation
Owre valley an' hill wi' the ding frae it's iron mou',
When a'body's thochts is set on their ain salvation,
Mine's set on you.

Violet Jacob, 'Tam i' the kirk'

[Alvis]

You have a very beautiful wife and very cute children. It's nice that you enjoyed some time with them and let Amy do her thing.

[Mark]

I can't believe Dex can draw that well. As the father of a nearly four-year-old who can identify all his shapes but is lucky to draw one on any given day, I'm impressed.

Oh, and your wife is absolutely on fire.

Here's to hot wives!

[Amy]

Okay, I am blushing. You can stop now. And for the record, I had asked Si twice if he wanted to go to the auction ove the week previous. He never gave me an answer. Since it was the night before the auction and there was only Si available to watch the boys, I had asked if he minded if just I went. So, he had plans he was just too slow committing to them.

[Émilie B.]

A pretty decent bunch of people around here, who can say a woman is "totally hot" by a portrait of her head. My compliments to the men (and Amy as well).

Dibs on D. Fraser's first painting.

[Tal]

Amy, it's the skin, you're all glowy.

I totally have to agree about Dex's drawing though...those are some super straight lines for a boy his age. I'll bet he'll be contributing the framed art in your home any day.