Triple D Treasure Map

For posterity sake I am laying out my Triple D weekend. I don't want to forget a moment and I want to remember how to get back.
After my moments of hysteria began growing closer together, I knew it was time to take a break. The chicks and I hit the road for our Triple D weekend. That would be for Diners, Dives and Drive-ins, not our combined bra sizes.
We checked into a swanky downtown hotel. Every time we get together we have to have our little matchies, once we had jammies, and bags, and this time scarves. We messed around making ourselves into Punky Brewster and gypsies and then hit a sweet little French bakery. After a roast chicken and pesto pannini with a fruit and vinaigrette salad.........we picked up a box of pastries and made out way to an outdoor concert. The night was gorgeous and the music was beautiful.
Hot tubbing was exciting until the weird hairy dude showed up. I tried to ignore him but he wouldn't let me. I had to move on. A can of Coke and a bed free of baby elbows and I called it a night.
Even though it was supposed to be a vacation weekend I couldn't sleep past 7. We headed up the canyon to one of our hot spots from Diners Dives and Drive-ins. The mile high biscuits should have been enough food for a family, but we still managed to squeeze in a whole breakfast. Phenomenal Eggs Benedict.
Pedis were next on the list. The little man that did my feet was Satan's little aesthetics worker. He ripped off my cuticles, sugared my legs until he drew blood and then painted my tootsies Camp Fire orange. Not so relaxing.
Having my body tensed up for 45 minutes put me in the mood for another Triple D. This time we hit a gritty little downtown joint. I couldn't stop myself.........I had a Benedict Omelet....it was filled with glorious hunks of peppered bacon. My cardiac arrest was signed for at that diner.....I'm pretty sure.
I have to spend the rest of the week doing Tae Bo and drinking water (YUCK!).
We spent the rest of the day walking the mall to stave off the bloat. We were nearly evil eyed out of one store for lewd behavior.
Now that's a vacation.

My BFF

My BFF (best friend forever) is a bad influence. I hate everything she stands for...........but I can't seem to break ties. We've been together our whole lives and I don't know what I would do without her. Every single thing I do wrong is 100% her fault.

From my first moment of consciousness I can't shake her. She doesn't want us to get up, especially if it is because Max wants a cup of milk. Uugh, that girl sets me on edge. Of course I have to do all of the work and drag both of us out from under the down comforter and stumble down to the basement to wake up the big guys. 'She' thinks we should just holler from upstairs, but it hasn't ever worked.

I am dedicated to making lunches at least three days a week. School lunch is an atrocious amount of money for an eeeh meal. BFF hates making lunches in the morning. I tried to tell her that it would be easier to start it the night before, but she REALLY likes to put things off.

By the time getting in the sport van to hit the road rolls around..........she actually wants me to leave the babies at home because she doesn't want to strap them in car seats. I can't believe her. BFF is one freaking lazy chick.

I am semi committed to working out a few times a week. I can't take looking like I put on 20 pounds. I will never actually know that for a fact because I don't let BFF weigh herself. That is forbotten at our house. It's about the only rule I can hold her to. She and I strap on our brand new, heavy duty sports bra and hit Tae Bo. BFF HATES Tae Bo and it's all she talks about the WHOLE work out. There have been a few times that she actually talked me out of going. We went back home and cuddled with the baby in bed. I had to enroll her in Tae Bo because the only way she will workout is to have someone yelling at her.

BFF really lacks energy and drive. When we are home during the day with the kids she doesn't want to help put the laundry away, unload the dishwasher........even though Max is willing to help, go to the store (she truly despises putting away the groceries), or mop the floor (she can't get past the fact that she has to sweep first and move all of the chairs........plus I like to hand mop and dry and she says it hurts her knees). Really, can you even stand her? BFF doesn't even like to shower. It's like pulling teeth. Come on........showering is necessary to even feel human. But she says she hates having to get out and put on lotion, six kinds of hair product, makeup and then style her hair. I secretly think she doesn't even like to raise her arms above her head, but I can't get her to admit it.

Eventually it's lunch time. BFF waits all morning for lunch. I try to make her wait until at least 11 am, but there have been a few times that she convinced me that 10:30 was just as good. Even though she is dying to eat, she doesn't really want to fix anything. She would eat Chinese food everyday if I let her. On one hand I can't blame her. I am about 95% sure that the rice noodles she loves are spiked with meth. I don't think an addiction level as high as BFF has could occur from mere food. I have her held off to only eating out once a week. She is still wringing my pockets dry.

BFF could spend the whole day with a book. No matter what pressing matter is at hand she carries one everywhere. Her book fettish is only rivaled by..... nothing, not even the rice noodles. In fact, the more she has to do, the harder it is to get the book out of her hands. The only things I can't get her to read...............are the things she is supposed to read.

I realized that if I were going to feed the kids a) before 8:00 pm b) something besides a pb&j or c) not cold cereal........that I was going to have to plan. BFF is the LEAST organized girl I have ever met. She doesn't want to plan ahead. It makes her out of breath. She actually told me once that she doesn't want to do anything that causes her to sweat, increase her heartbeat beyond resting heart rate, and that makes her uncomfortable physically or emotionally. I have goaded her into crock potting here and there, once with the promise of using a whole stick of butter because she loves butter.

When it's time to start getting ready for bed, BFF really puts up a fuss. The kids need to be showered and she hates it. First she doesn't like their whining. She has an amazingly low tolerance for noise. Superman once gave her a box of earplugs for Christmas. She also doesn't like water on the floor of the bathroom. I tried to tell her it makes it easier to mop when the puddles are that big, but once she has bed in her sights...........she's like a cattle stampede....unstoppable. If the kids make noise, take too long, laugh, run through the house naked, leave towels on the floor, spank each others wet bottoms, spill Victoria's Secret lotion on the carpet, or leave their dirty clothes in the bathroom, she thinks it's okay to tell them to go to bed without a bedtime story. I keep telling her that is a bad punishment.......even the 'experts' say never to take reading time away........but she's a tough cookie to convince.

Max likes to push my shirt up and lay on my stomach when he's tired. BFF actually will go along with this one because she can do it in a prone position. But once you get her laid out like that, you can't get her back up. If only I could convince Superman to cuddle with Max sometimes....... She claims she tired, but if the day went the way she likes, I can't figure out what from. I'll tell you who is tired..........ME.

BFF is exhausting. I get so sick of battling her at every turn. Everything is out of her comfort zone. She reminds me of a trickle of water...........just dripping and running around the resistance. I question all of the time what happened to the BFF of everyone else that I know. They seem to have ditched the little hussies..........or maybe they never got that attached. BFF has a demon like personality. I wonder if exorcism could part us?

Housekeeping Monthly in May 1955 says............

1. Have dinner ready: Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal — on time. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him, and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospects of a good meal are part of the warm welcome needed.
2. Prepare yourself: Take 15 minutes to rest so you will be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people. Be a little gay and a little more interesting. His boring day may need a lift.
3. Clear away the clutter: Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives, gathering up school books, toys, paper, etc. Then run a dust cloth over the tables. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift, too.

4. Prepare the children: Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands hand faces if they are small, comb their hair and if necessary, change their clothes. They are little
treasures and he would like to see them playing the part.

5. Minimize the noise: At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of washer, dryer,
dishwasher, or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet. Be happy to see him.
Greet him with a warm smile and be glad to see him.

6. Some don'ts: Don't greet him with problems or complaints. Don't complain if he's late
for dinner. Count this as minor compared to with what he might have gone through that
day.
7. Make him comfortable: Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or suggest he lie
down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. Arrange his pillow and
offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soft, soothing and pleasant voice. Allow him to
relax and unwind.

8. Listen to him: You may have a dozen things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival
is not the time. Let him talk first.

9. Make the evening his: Never complain if he does not take you out to dinner or to
other places of entertainment; instead try to understand his world of strain and pressure,
his need to be home and relax.

10. The goal: To make your home a place of peace and order, where your husband can
can relax.

Would I.......could I........ I am not at all making fun of this. I actually wish it were more like this. On the eve of another week of training (ie.......home without protection from the children) I am wishing to time travel to the 1950's. I could wear the cutest dresses!!! heels, bows in my hair and my Superman would be home at 5:00 pm sharp.

The real deal is more like this.....
1. Dinner will be made and eaten long before he arrives. Even if there are any left overs he will refuse to eat them, turning to the box of Captain Crunch. The children will lament the empty box in the morning. Crying with dismay as I screech at them to move faster.

2. I am prepared for his arrival by either being out of the house with after school activities while he is changing uniforms to head out the door again.......or I will be unconscious with a bobby pin in my bangs and my favorite cowboy pajamas on. Most likely I will be drooling on the sheets or asleep in a book. His day may or may not have been boring.......18 hour drive or a bloody wreck. I may not know for days.

3. The clutter will be right were I left it when I drug off to bed. The homework will be on the counter, the puzzles on the kitchen table. My ADD has equipped me to begin putting the laundry away but not to finish.....therefore there will be a stack of clothes covering the couch.

4. The children will be prepared and asleep. Dandy, if only I were awake.

5. If he comes home in the dead of night, the noise will be only the fans giving us the breeze to take us through a good night. If he arrives during dinner I will be unable to quell the onslaught of "DADDY! DADDY! I did a back handspring and *blank's* dad got drunk while they were camping. Maddy threw all of her Care bears down the stairs. Popcorn, popcorn! Can I ride the four wheeler?" These are all shouted at once. And probably because they haven't seen Daddy for two days.

6. If I am awake I will try not to greet him with complaints.......the sheer volume of my screams and profuse weeping might give me away though. I have compassion over the fact that he had to clean up brains, change a tire on the freeway with semis speeding by, and kick someone out of college for drugs and alcohol.

7. How I would love to make him comfortable. Most likely he will have time to enter the closet and emerge in other work clothes. If I am lucky we will pass in the bathroom. I cannot give comfort. Next time I will leave a note, "Dr. Pepper is in the fridge and super size box of popcorn is on the shelf. Love you babe."

8. I do however listen. He will say where he is off to and his expected time or re-arrival. This, will be a gross miscalculation.

9. Make the evening his.........I sure will. He will be all alone at work without the decibels high enough to render one permanently deaf. He will be without food, hugs, kisses, homework, tumbling or snuggling, but the evening will belong to him. The day of strain and pressure will seep eerily into the night, with no one to mark it but himself.

10. Well, he sleeps well when he gets there, so I have to assume he feels peaceful enough.

This was not a complaint. The realities of a new century are stark. I am going to buy an A line skirt, an apron, some heals and a steak. I will meet this goal yet.