I would need a few extra hands to count the number of times I have wasted a 3 day weekend. You go into Friday with the best of intentions, but by 2pm Saturday it’s too late to go anywhere and then Sunday is spent like a Sunday instead of a Saturday, which means Monday is really a second Sunday. Great, a Saturday and two Sundays. Did I lose you? Doesn’t matter. It was a meandering way of getting to:

We had a perfect weekend.

I honestly can’t recall the way the whole thing played out, though I distinctly remember Friday morning calling Sean and saying, “Funniest thing, turns out Memorial Day is in fact this weekend.” The date book abhorring genius that I am had been insisting for several weeks that Memorial Day was a week later. Sean, familiar by now with my unique gift for mixing things up any time I try to be organized, was very calm about it. He came home at 4 and was just excited for some time off. You see, somehow we missed the caveat in the guide to becoming a small business owner* that said, “You ain’t never gonna have free time again, suckah!” It’s been 3+ years of late nights, early mornings and weekends at the office. That’s why seeing him like this:

Makes me about as happy as anything else in the world, like say, this:

Yes, we had a perfect weekend indeed. We had fresh pasta salad by the lake, sitting on a striped quilt (Thanks mom!), and eating with our hands (Thanks to me, I thought to pack extra socks, but no silverware). The water was much too cold for a dip, so we made do with an awkward mom-swing, meaning I took Briar in my arms and let her bare little feet skim the frigid waters of Lake George.

This morning we packed up and headed over to Glen Street for the Memorial Day Parade. It was the first time in four years we managed to get there before it was nothing but streamers and horse droppings on a deserted street. You simply can’t know how triumphant that made me feel. We slathered sun screen on both girls to mixed reactions:

Watching the parade reminded me why I’ve never really liked parades. A bit boring, tedious even, but watching the girls watch the parade was another thing entirely. I’d wager that any member of the Queensbury or West Glens Falls Fire Departments would be willing to do just about anything for Avery who captured many hearts with her enthusiastic clapping and waving from her perch on my shoulders. Briar was less effusive, but no less riveted by the small town spectacle:

We walked home in a sea of other parents with strollers and wagons carrying sleepy children, all of us a bit smug for having accomplished such a toddler dazzling feat before 11am. A job well done with the kids well tuckered.

Like I said, a perfect weekend. How about you?

*By the way, on this spiffy new layout, I have taken the liberty of including a link to the business that has cost us so many late nights. It’s also brought great joy, allowed us to work togehter and seen us through two kids (so far) so I’m rather fond of it. Check it out.