Perfection is Exhausting

We were greeted with the perfect day on Memorial Day.  The sun was shining, it was neither too hot nor too cold, there was a heavenly breeze wafting through the open windows...and my kids all slept until almost 10 AM.

That's right, people.  All three of them.  The day I have waited for 10 years has finally arrived.  No one woke me up at 7 AM to inform me that they have to go to the bathroom even though we're past the age when I really need to know that information.  I actually woke up before they did and had an urge to go and shake one of them awake and say, "What are we having for breakfast?  What are we doing today?  What are we doing tomorrow?  When is everyone else going to be awake?  Where do you think I should go to college in 10 years?"

But I didn't.  I just enjoyed the silence and the breeze.

Anyway, the day was too perfect to not to something and so Mike and I decided that he should go get his 3 kids (who are the same ages as mine) so that we could all enjoy the day together.   But...what to do?

Play at the park with all 6 kids?  Well, we could.  But the 2 oldest are kind of beyond the park age.

Take a trip up to the mountains and wander around an old mining town?  Sounds good in theory, but do we really want to be in the car for a total of 3 hours, only to get up there and have at least 2/3 of the kids say they want to go home after 39 minutes of wandering?  And do we want to have to keep track of them all and if we don't...who do we want to lose?

This day was starting to sound like a bunch of work.

"I know!" I said.  "Let's just take the kids to the store, let them pick out a bunch of water toys, and grill while they play in the yard!  Simple!"

I didn't realize until later how exhausting this plan would be.

First of all:  Six kids in a Wal-Mart on Memorial Day is a fool's errand.  At one point, we literally had them all lined up like little ducklings as we waddled our way through the store.  Our carts were filled with water guns, sprinklers, water balloons, and various other weaponry for what was shaping up to be the water fight of the century.  And I, being none-too-bright, decided that I was over just making burgers and dogs for all of the kids - and decided that we should make fajitas instead.

(Mike - if you're reading this, you really ought to speak up when I come up with plans like this.  Any menu that requires 37 sides and has to be individually constructed for each of our 6 children is really a stupid idea.  And I think you knew it when I came up with it, but were too nice to say anything about it.)

It took the kids approximately 36 hours to put together their water fight, all of them seemingly missing the point.  As soon as the boys were ready, the girls would yell out, "Not yet!  Not yet!  We're not ready!"  So the boys would get bored and start playing with their weapons.  And then the girls would get ready and the boys would scream, "Not yet!  Not yet!  We're not ready!"

This is when Mike yelled out, as he was laboring over the high-maintenance menu, "Just start!  No one is supposed to be ready!!"

Once the meat for lunch was finally finished (at 3 PM), I had already made the guac, 2 kinds of beans, salsa, cheese and 10 other items for our "simple" lunch.  And then the real work began.

"I want chicken fajitas, with just cheese!"
"I want beef with cheese, guac, and beans!"
"I want chicken with cheese, beans on the side!"
"I want a quesadilla, guac on the side!"
"I want chicken with cheese and two dollops of sour cream!"
"Where's my burger?"

By the time they all had their food, I looked at Mike, his face droopy with exhaustion, and said, "I gotta sit down."  At which point, my dreams of a perfect family afternoon turned into just that - a dream - as I accidentally fell asleep on the couch.