A Whole Lot of Nothing

.....And I'm spent.  It's been a whirlwind of a busy weekend, lovely and full.  Mr. Floren has been in Denver, hopefully engaging in some debauchery and blowing off some steam, and the chickies and I have been quite busy at home.

We dropped him at the airport Thursday afternoon, then got busy readying our house for a wee party Friday night.  Do you have two different standards of clean?  I do-there's messy, regular clean, and company clean.  My house was progressing past regular clean into messy, so there was much work to be done.  Luckily for me, I have slave labor to help out, and the girls and I whipped this place into shape.  The Little One is way too spazzy to help out much, but The Curly Haired One?  That chick is a keeper, yo.  She's my mini assistant, and even better-she truly enjoys helping me out, working alongside me as part of a team.

We were hosting "an adult slumber party!", as I screamed out to my friend Sara at the preschool parking lot on Friday.  "Not an 'adult' slumber party, but a slumber party for grownups!" I added after I realized what it sounded like.  Note to self: *think* before you speak.  Pull head out of ass before attempting grown up conversation.

Four of my dear friends made the trek up here to "The Burbs" and we had pizza, drinks, and great conversation.  The kiddos LOVED hanging out with the big girls, and were stoked about whooping up on some new Candyland competition.  Made some bomb White Russians-you have to watch out for those bastards, yo-they go down so easy, then all of a sudden from under the coziness of the Kahlua comes out the drunk of the vodka, and bam...you need a piece of pizza or five to get ahold of yourself. :)   Cards were played, cheesy movies were watched, and a great time was had by all.

Until the next morning when my asshole dear, darling children thought that rising extra early at 6:30 am was a ridiculous good idea.  I was more tired than hungover, and just not ready for life-and neither were they!  I don't know why they torture themselves by getting up so early-they were SO tired.  After about a gallon each of water and coffee, I figured, I already felt like hell, I might as well hang out there too and let's go clothes shopping!  What in the french was I thinking?  What I was thinking was that I was actually going to have a semblance of sanity during this shopping trip, but, oh no-I was definitely mistaken.  Apparently, since the last time I took my children on a major shopping excursion, they have developed these things called opinions.  In case you haven't noticed, I kind of like to be in charge.  In the past, I would pick two shirts, they would choose one from those-and voila, we're making progress.  Oh, no, not anymore.  Now they want to run around and look at every pair of pants and touch every single dress and get only the things that are godawfulridiculousshitthatohmyhellno.  THREE HOURS in Target and two dressing room trips and trying on 23 pairs of shoes and we left with one outfit and one Easter dress each.  Going to The Children's Place this afternoon-wish me Xanax luck!

We're also going to attempt to find shoes also-any suggestions on a great place to find kids' shoes?  And if they serve wine to stressed out parents?  Even better.