Weekend Highlights

1. Friday - cleaned the whole house so that we didn't have to futz with it at all on Saturday. I mean - we had PLANS. It was Father's Day, after all! Who wants to scrub toilets?? I managed to do most of it, but Bill did vacuum. Even on his weekend off. Thanks, babe!

2. Friday evening - grocery shopping in a torrential downpour. Okay - they don't do summer storms like they do in Utah. We were in our neighborhood Alby's just minding our own business on the cracker isle, and POP! The lights all go out, and a bunch of girls begin to scream. I have to admit, at this moment, I was pleased that not one of my family of three added to the annoying shrieks that filled the store. Instead, we stopped where we were, and when the lights came on again - which we knew they would (even Wyatt knew they would, it seemed) - we took eye-inventory of each other (yes, we were all still there, and Wyatt wasn't at all freaked out. In fact, he seemed rather pleased) and then grinned. Bill and I said, "cool! there must be a major storm going on outside!" and Wyatt said, "Dark! Dark! Lights off! Dark!" We hurried and checked out so that we could check out the storm. We were in the store maybe half an hour. When we went in, it was a fairly mild rain. When we left, it was a heavier rain, but in no way what it must have been during the time we were oblivious in the store. The streets had been turned rivers that we had to navigate around in our Rav, and people were standing under awnings or running with umbrellas, looking soaked and bewildered.

Mmmm...I love summer storms.

3. Saturday morning - Stepper goes to help at Jamie's semi-annual dance concert. Stepper helps with folding programs, getting Kenya dressed into her next costume (from tropical bird to minnie mouse) and setting up chairs for audience and tables for concessions and ticket sales. She also sweeps feathers off the stage and gossips with her mother (who was also there, helping) about how incredible Jamie is, what with having had a baby three weeks ago and still being able to put on an entire large-scale production AND get up on stage and do high-kicks with one of her students. Stepper may or may not have welled up a few times with pride and gratitude for such an awesome sister.



4. Saturday evening - the Father's Day Feast. Bill requested Gyoza - which is his favorite thing that Stepper makes. We make up an entire package of wraps worth of Gyoza (count 'em, folks! That's 60 gyoza!) and yes, we ate them all. Salty, Japanese goodness!


5. Sunday Morning - the Father's Day breakfast in bed. Wyatt and I joined dad for breakfast - you should have seen me trying to haul Wyatt's high chair up the stairs with my big ol' pregnant tummy in the way and trying so hard not to wake either of my boys until I was ready! We had breakfast sandwiches

(sausage, egg and cheese on a toasted english muffin) pears and juice, and Bill opened his gifts. The highlight, I think, was the gift that Wyatt picked out for him at the store. A flying helicopter/airplane set with ZIP CORD ACTION! Wyatt thinks they belong to him. He hasn't let the helicopter out of his sight since daddy opened it.

6. Church. Bill and I taught CTR. Well, Bill taught it, I sat and listened and loved him.

7. Father's Day dinner at Mom and Dads. BBQ'd Steak and grilled mushrooms, potatoes, mom's famous fruit and spinach salad, homemade potato rolls, homemade blackberry jam, and sweet corn. Yes, Bill did get to eat REAL MEAT for Father's Day, and I didn't have to prepare it, so we all won! Thanks, Mom and Dad! And thanks, Meg, for the Peach Cobbler!

8. Seeing Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Jan. They came for dinner at Mom's and stayed for games. We learned a new dice game.

9. Crazy kisses from Wyatt. He's discovered that if he kisses mom on the cheek, but then jaws his mouth so she gets a toothy, slobbery mess of a kiss that she laughs - especially if he says "bwah-bwah-bwah!" while he does it. And then she'll lip-gnaw on his cheek and then he'll get her other cheek and it goes back and forth until we're both laughing so hard that we have to fall on the floor.

10. Best highlight of all - my Bill. The father of my children - of Wyatt, of the Moeb who will join us officially in November, and of anyone else who decides to join us. He is, I'm convinced, the best father in the world. I interviewed him over Father's Day breakfast Sunday morning. I asked him what the best thing about being a father was. He said Wyatt. But then he thought about it, and said, "playing with him is my favorite." and ladies and gentlemen, this is true. I've seen accounts. Those two are best friends. When they play together - be it hide-and-seek or laundry basket spaceship - there is this look of pure joy that comes over their faces, and I sit back and watch my little piece of heaven on earth. And then I realize I have that look of pure joy on my face, too.

There's this feeling. When Wyatt and I are playing in the family room and the door knob starts to jiggle, and we both know that Daddy is about to walk through that door, and Wyatt jumps up and yells "daddy! daddy! daddydaddy!" and starts to run in mad circles around the room or into the kitchen because he just doesn't know what to do with himself because he's so excited. And then Bill walks through the door and sees us, and said, "hello family!" and Wyatt gets this look on his face. Like..."I know the good fun just walked through that door, but I don't dare approach 'cause I know he'll tackle me". So he grins and sort of hides behind me and also trembles with anticipation until he can't stand it, and he's the one that goes and attacks Bill.

And then for the next half hour at least, I can't pull the two apart, and I'm free to go do the dishes or whatever. Or, as is most often the case, sit back and watch and laugh (and cringe, because let's be honest. Daddy's can play a little rough! I'm sure Bill gets weary of my constant "careful of his little neck!" reproaches). But this play time teaches me that little Wyatt-type boys are just as tough as older daddy-type boys. And I shouldn't interfere with their sacred rough-housing.

This is Bliss.

I think the world needs more Father's Days.

One or two more Mother's Days wouldn't be bad, either.