Here are some pictures of things that happened today.
Apparently, I had just a smidge too much wine last night, because when I woke up this morning, I felt like I had spent the night at Burning Man, and not just hosting several friends for a Marcy memorial. Wine hangovers are my jam, if by that I mean that I just puked into a jar of Smuckers. Luckily, I recovered in time to be able to traipse around the cemetery with Henry while Chooch was at piano.
The cemetery in which the traipsing occurred.
Me: “Why do you need a stick?”
Henry: “In case I need to hit a hipster on a bike.”
Then we went to the mausoleum to pee and I wanted Henry to take fun and hilarious selfies with me but then I remembered that he’s against fun.
After Chooch’s piano lesson, we went to the playground in North Park, where Chooch managed to kick a soccer ball into his face, flip through the air, fall into a tree stump, and start bleeding all within 10 seconds. It was truly a sight to behold. Then he complained that he didn’t have anyone to play with and we were like THERE ARE NO LESS THAN 8 BOYS AROUND YOUR OWN AGE MILLING ABOUT AIMLESSLY JUST LIKE YOU’RE DOING, GO PICK ONE TO BE AWKWARD WITH.
Then after awhile I realized I hadn’t seen him for a good 10 minutes (there was some car race happening in the parking lot, and it was distracting me from being a parent). “Where is our child?” I asked and Henry just shrugged. “I don’t know. Over in Pouter’s Field somewhere.” That’s when we found him sitting behind a tree like the Saddest Kid Ever, which was kind of apropos since it’s National Only Child Day (technically he’s not, but when your siblings are 14+ years older than you….).
And that is how Henry and I were guilted into kicking a soccer ball back and forth even though Henry has two broken Pallet Jack Feet and I was wearing TOMS. (Have you ever kicked a soccer ball while wearing TOMS? Feels fucking fantastic.)
Then we went to Kelley’s Dari Delite for ice cream and I changed my mind 18 times (seriously—hard ice cream or soft serve?! A milkshake or a sundae!?) but eventually opted for maple soft serve (maple is my everything) with crunchies and for once I felt pretty secure in my final decision.
Not actually whining.
And now I will leave you with my current favorite song from the new Dance Gavin Dance album, Instant Gratification, which comes out on Tuesday and you should go buy it. Borderline infatuated with it. OK fine, lose the “borderline.” I’m straight psycho for this record. I was trying to tell Henry earlier how perfect Tilian Pearson is for Dance Gavin Dance, and how it’s almost like Jonny Craig was never even in this band, but then I started to cry, because #emotions #posthardcoreprobs #scenekidsentiments
(That 2:07 mark, tho. Heart eyes for days.)