Weekend Recap

This past weekend pretty much stank. Maybe I had too high hopes because it was my birthday weekend. Or maybe I’m just postpartum. Or both. I don’t know. At any rate, by the time George got home on Friday, I had had one of THOSE days. I just needed to get out. I didn’t care if all four kids came along or not, but I needed to get out. And I wanted to spend that out time with George.

But alas, the world was going upside down because of Tropical Storm Hanna. So I knew going out for dinner was probably a hopeless cause. George came home with steaks in tow, surprising me. Black angus steaks, to be specific. He grilled them, and they were pretty tasty. He even bought a bagged salad and took a stab at the recipe for my tangy, buttery potatoes. Dinner was good. It was nice of him to be so overly cheerful and make the kids pay homage to me on my special day. However, I REALLY wanted - no NEEDED - to get out. So, as George had forgotten to pick up a cake, I insisted that we go out for dessert after dinner. Unfortunately, the place I had in mind was closed due to the weather (of course), so I ended up running into Harris Teeter and picking up a Razzleberry pie. Harris Teeter before a tropical storm was, by the way, like walking in to a lunatic asylum. People couldn't even be bothered to walk the extra eight feet to put their carts away, but were leaving them in the entryway of the store.

Anyway, I'm sure WalMart would've been like descending into hell, but it was bad enough going into Harris Teeter.

By the time we got home and I nursed Lucy again, it was too late for the kids to share any birthday cake...er, pie...with me. The pie took an hour to bake and suggested a three hour waiting time before slicing. Yeah, sure. We waited about three minutes before slicing, and we got a berry, soupy mess for our haste. It was delish, though.

All weekend, though, I just couldn't shake my depression.

The tropical storm did very little of anything Friday night and into Saturday. There was some rain and some more wind. We ended up with a few branches and a lot of pinestraw and pinecones in the yard. George and the children spent the weekend picking them up. And I said something untactful to George Saturday that hurt his feelings. I asked him whether he had plans for us to go out for my birthday. I suppose when I type it, it doesn't sound so bad, but it made him feel like his impromptu steak dinner wasn't good enough, that I needed a real restaurant meal. No! What I needed was a break! I didn't care if we went to IHOP! (Although I did kind of have my heart on Red Lobster).

Anyway, I ended up bursting into tears, we both apologized, and he called his mom to see if she could come up and watch the three older kids while we took Lucy and went out to Jacksonville. She came right up, and George, Lucy, and myself had a decent time out at Red Lobster.

I felt really bad all weekend, though, for making his really sweet gesture seem beneath me. It's not that at all. I was just depressed, exhausted, and I kind of wanted to get a little dolled up to go out, even if it was only to Jacksonville. So, in the end, I did get a little dressy. I squeezed my butt into a pair of my fat jeans (with the help of my most handy tummy-shaper - the best $33 I ever spent) and put on a gold-patterned shirt I had bought on sale at Target while pregnant and never worn. I put it over my beloved white Modbe cap-sleeved tee, and wore my trusty gold wedge sandals, which are nearly to the point of looking shabby. I thought I looked pretty dang good, and George seconded my opinion. It also made me feel pretty swell that I got some comments that I did not look like I had just had a baby.

OK, so not bad. But like I said before, I just couldn't shake my depression all weekend.

Of course, I forgot to mention that Lucy kept me up until almost three am on Friday night, and probably almost as late (or early??) on Saturday night. The result was that I was tired, cranky, and just plain mean. Lucy and I slept until ten am on Sunday and we all skipped church. (Bad, bad, bad...I know and am ashamed).

So, basically, I am really glad the weekend is over. I was so ready to get on with the week, that I panicked when I realized Drake's birthday party is next Saturday. What was I thinking???? I can't believe I scheduled his party for so soon after the baby's birth. And I bought a train cake pan to make his cake. And I decided to have the party at our house, which is not clean enough for guests. And I invited people who I actually care what they think of my house. What was I thinking????

Just say a little prayer for me please. I am certifiably insane.