Out and About

We've been partying like it's 1999 this spring break. That is, if "partying" means not getting out of our pjs/yoga pants, lying around reading and eating sugar cereal. I'm kind of a food nazi on school days-no sugar, power smoothies and homemade breakfasts and whole grain lunches every day, blahblahblah-aren't you jealous of my kids? On vacations and holidays, though, I usually buy about five boxes of forbidden cereal and let the kids eat it all day until it's gone. That way, they don't feel deprived, but more importantly, I feel like I'm on vacation, too, because they never ask me to make them a sandwich or oatmeal. It's a win-win, even for the dentist!

We did go to FSI to meet daddy and do a little research (my God, why is the Overseas Briefing Center always so frigging hot?) . We also went to the National Aquarium in DC, but the kids were rather underwhelmed, aside from enjoying the feeding frenzy in the piranha tank. They were more interested in the brown, stinky, flooded Potomac.

Yesterday, I braved Tyson's Corner Mall (that's like Bellevue Square on steroids and doubled for you Seattle friends) with the kids to buy summer clothes. Now, historically I'm cheap when it comes to summer clothes. It never got very warm in the Pacific Northwest and when it did, it was only for  a small period of time. The kids have only ever needed one swimsuit and a few pairs of shorts. But we're looking down the barrel of at least two years of summer weather and I needed to get a lot of stuff for my money. I handed Jack $150 in cash and told him to come back with a few pairs of shorts, swim trunks and some t-shirts while I shopped with the younger kids. After about an hour, Jack called and said he needed more money. The swim trunks he bought were $50 and all the other shorts were that much, too. What the what?  I told him to get his ass to Old Navy or I would come and shop with him, and stand outside the dressing room talking really loud about how CUTE THOSE SHORTS LOOK ON HIM AND OH MY GOSH DON'T YOU LOOK HANDSOME! So, yes, he now has a pair of $50 swim trunks but also several pairs of cheap Old Navy shorts and a t-shirt with the Guinness logo on the front. Sigh.

Last night was date night. The kids had Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Apple Jacks for dinner while Mitch and I went to a dinner show called  Medieval Madness. Let it be said that this is not, nor has ever been, my scene. But I love my dorky husband who has a deep appreciation for all things medieval (more of a historical interest, not in a play-in-the-woods-dressed-up-like-a-knight-going-to-medieval-fairs kind of way), so when a Groupon came up for half price tickets, I bought them as a surprise, hoping he'd take me to a drag show in return (I loves me some drag queens). The seating was side-by-side at room-length tables, so we got to know our neighbors quickly and intimately. There were little bowls of nibbles all along the table. Which we were meant to share. With bare hands. This is the point at which I learned we would be enjoying the ENTIRE meal with no eating implements of any kind. A germophobe's dream come true. I quickly downed two glasses of wine, hoping to kill any bugs that might be swirling around in my gut as a result of this unsavory practice. They began the performance, which involved a King and Queen and swords and fake accents and whatnot. I couldn't watch the show because I had to keep my eye on everyone's dirty hands and the food. Yes, I am a most excellent date. The food was three courses of meat (sausages, giant hunks of very tender beef, and chicken drumsticks), giant raviolis (ravioli? raviolii?), some kind of cinnamon carrot stick things, and cake for dessert. All with bare hands. There was also a never-ending supply of ale and singing wenches. Am I glad we went? Sure. Would I do it again? My belly, head, and nerves vote no. The woman sitting to my right, near the end of the show said, "My mom and I have bets on whether or not you guys are newlyweds because you're so cozy with each other".  She was surprised to know that we've been married for 16 years. What I didn't tell her was that I was an agoraphobic germaphobe and had been attempting to hide in my husband's pocket.