I had to shake my fists at the Gods on Wednesday, not once, not twice, but thrice.
Wednesday had been proclaimed “Picnic at the Park Day” so I packed a picnic and Jack and I headed to the Southern Sun for a growler of beer. I felt sort of weird carrying out a jug of beer in one arm and a baby in the other, but why? Jack and I headed to daycare to get Luke and then straight to the park. And I brought other parents along with me, “Come to the park! I have a growler of beer!” (Aside, what is the law in this case? Having a beer with your picnic at the park? Legal? Illegal? Legal but sort of unseemly? I consulted two experts and these were the answers I got:
1.) Who cares?
2.) Of course it’s legal. That’s why we always see homeless people there.
But back to the story of my wholesome family picnic. We got to the park and Luke took off to play with friends. I put Jack in the stroller with the sling, some blankets, fleece jackets and sweatshirts. (It was raining and cold.) And I carried my awesome new picnic basket (Thanks Aunt Nancy!) over my arm and then I think I grabbed the cooler with that same arm and made one trip with all my stuff. I met up with friends and excitedly removed the lid from the cooler and said, “Oh no! Noooooooooooo!” while shaking my fist at the heavens because the cooler was filled to the brim with foam. If I was as good a housekeeper as my picnicking friend, I suppose we could have just dipped our cups in, but as it was, I accepted an offer of babysitting and went back to the bar. Short story long, they refilled the growler, but the service was less friendly than at the grocery store earlier that day. And I spend the same amount of money in both places each week! (Kidding.)
The third time I had to shake my fist at the heavens was later when I was telling Dave the story.
And then a fourth time yesterday when I discovered my mothers day gift orders appear to be lost. But I’ll spare you that boring story!
I didn’t take any pictures at the picnic, so this one is from a few days ago.