It's Hard to be a Saint in the City
Tomorrow, the Saint heads to New York for a weekend with her sisters. Instead of Weekend at Bernie's, this is Weekend in Brooklyn.
The Saint's sister is with child, you see. Very, very much with child. But the Saint's brother in law has to go back to Seattle because his sister is getting married, and he's in the wedding, which of course was planned long ago, before this whole baby thing happened. How do those baby things happen, anyway?
So the Saint is taking Amtrak to Penn Station tomorrow. The Saint's other sister is taking Amtrak up from Washington. Hopefully they'll meet in the middle of Penn Station, find their pregnant sister in the mob, and spend a weekend doing whatever three married sisters do without their husbands.
The good news: I get an entire weekend with Oldest Child (the newly minted teenager), Middle Child and Daughter. I have everything planned, and I'm also ready to toss the plans out the window.
On the playlist: Bruce, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Hank Williams Jr., and Merle Haggard, with some Bob Seger thrown in. Not one song recorded after 1984 shall be heard at my house this weekend!
On the TV: Oldest Child has requested ample time for PS2. Middle Child has requested time to watch wrestling. Daughter has requested time for Hi-5.
I have requested football. But I'd rather hang with the kids, and when they're asleep, I'll write.
If the weather's crappy, they can watch what they want, and I'll referee. If it's nice outside, the park beckons.
I've promised the Saint that we won't order out for every meal (have I mentioned that my mother reads this blog?), but I need to be flexible. I have Sunday Dinner planned already, and I'm making that myself, so technically, I'll honor my promise even if we order out tomorrow and Saturday. Which is not a bad idea, now that I've hung it out there.
And my novel continues to... percolate. Or a better analogy: It's like bourbon in the barrel, absorbing the sugars from the oak, aging, mellowing... letting the story condense and come together.
This weekend will be strange. I'll miss the Saint, but I'll have a great time with the kids, and I'll be able to put a ton of words onto the hard drive.
Happy Weekend. It's almost upon us.
Adam
The Saint's sister is with child, you see. Very, very much with child. But the Saint's brother in law has to go back to Seattle because his sister is getting married, and he's in the wedding, which of course was planned long ago, before this whole baby thing happened. How do those baby things happen, anyway?
So the Saint is taking Amtrak to Penn Station tomorrow. The Saint's other sister is taking Amtrak up from Washington. Hopefully they'll meet in the middle of Penn Station, find their pregnant sister in the mob, and spend a weekend doing whatever three married sisters do without their husbands.
The good news: I get an entire weekend with Oldest Child (the newly minted teenager), Middle Child and Daughter. I have everything planned, and I'm also ready to toss the plans out the window.
On the playlist: Bruce, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Hank Williams Jr., and Merle Haggard, with some Bob Seger thrown in. Not one song recorded after 1984 shall be heard at my house this weekend!
On the TV: Oldest Child has requested ample time for PS2. Middle Child has requested time to watch wrestling. Daughter has requested time for Hi-5.
I have requested football. But I'd rather hang with the kids, and when they're asleep, I'll write.
If the weather's crappy, they can watch what they want, and I'll referee. If it's nice outside, the park beckons.
I've promised the Saint that we won't order out for every meal (have I mentioned that my mother reads this blog?), but I need to be flexible. I have Sunday Dinner planned already, and I'm making that myself, so technically, I'll honor my promise even if we order out tomorrow and Saturday. Which is not a bad idea, now that I've hung it out there.
And my novel continues to... percolate. Or a better analogy: It's like bourbon in the barrel, absorbing the sugars from the oak, aging, mellowing... letting the story condense and come together.
This weekend will be strange. I'll miss the Saint, but I'll have a great time with the kids, and I'll be able to put a ton of words onto the hard drive.
Happy Weekend. It's almost upon us.
Adam
Labels: Parenthood, The Kids, The Saint
posted by Adam Hurtubise at 10:11 PM
3 Comments:
I'm right now watching the end of Star Wars with the munchkins. The Boy won first place all-around at his gym meet today. Also got four first places, pommel horse, floor, vault and high bar. Second place in rings and parallel bars.
I'm pretty proud. So's he.
Trust the force, Adam. Order the pizza.
Last night was pizza and subs.
Tonight was chicken fingers and Chinese.
Tomorrow I make my homemade beef stew because the Saint loves it.
And I got 1,200 words done tonight.
Adam
Nothing about the election, you are showing tremendous restraint and I had all my best politcal spin ready for combat.
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