Our third semi-annual girls’ weekend happened in Padre Island, and there were a few stowaways, shall we say: Anthony, my nephew, and my dad. Which meant that naps were part of the daytime routine, football occasionally blared on the television, and movie options included “Bride of Frankenstein” (What? that’s a chick-flick! my dad insisted…). On the plus side, we enjoyed afternoon gin and Sonics (mango slushies and gin! yes!), walked along the beach, and we convinced my dad to take his boat out of winter hibernation to give us all a fantastic ride. And Anthony, well, he’s adorable. We bonded over trains.
During our visit, my sisters and I dug through two tubs of Granny’s quilting fabric that my mom brought. Since Granny has downsized her 90+ tubs of fabric, we are dealing with a serious surplus. We came up with a project that we could finish before the weekend was over: party banners! They are adorable. We all shared a pattern I had found years ago, but everyone had their own unique touch. We all teased Megan about her inefficient use of fabric and her unique flowers that all managed to include a divet, and there were many jokes regarding No Floppy Flowers! which made us all collapse into fits of giggles. It was hysterical. Now we each have a creation that can only remind us of what a fun weekend it was. And Mom, because she is a sewing rock star, made us each aprons. Thanks, Mom!
And I hooked us all up with some Aggie paraphernalia before I left Texas.
Ah… fast forward several days, and I’m back in Portland, where we are wearing jackets and fleece and the sun sometimes shines. It was Martin Luther King Day - a holiday, but not everyone’s holiday – just the kids and me, because Matt had to work. Boo. So I took them on a hike around Reed College, since I had never been there. It was a lovely day, and a lovely hike. I parked somewhere on a neighborhood street that was pretty nondescript. I recorded the street names in my phone so that I could easily remember where it was.
We were having such a good time. The kids made up a play at the amphitheater there, and I just sat and watched. There were many battle scenes.
And then, after our snacks were gone, and Leo had two “nature pees” (his first ever since potty-training. Oh, but boys are so much easier when it comes to peeing in the woods…), we were all tired and hungry and ready to get back. But where was my pesky van? Dammit, really. I kept trying to get a signal on my phone so that I could track us through GPS, but alas, we were going in circles. GPS doesn’t have a good map of trails. Leo was tired and required me to carry him – and coincidentally, both of my hiking shoes gave out. Seriously, they opened up hobo style, like two quacking ducks attached to my feet, eating up all the dirt and collecting dust and grime inside my socks and between my toes. Weighed down by the weight of my two-year old and my shoes’ soil collection, I was desperately reaching my phone up in the air with my other hand to get a signal to try to find the van. Meanwhile the other two lagged behind, whining and dragging their heels. Ay yi yi. We finally tracked down the van. My first and last ever solo-hike with these three. And I still haven’t replaced those shoes. I think I earned another girls’ weekend. Or two. Onward.
