Rock n Retch

I went to bed Friday night excited about the weekend that lay ahead. On Saturday afternoon there was a Rock n Romp, (at Kalki and Wendy's) where I would get to watch Connor run around with his best friend Max, dance with Chloe, and laze about on a blanket sharing a beer with my friends. After that, I was going to spend the evening with a friend I hadn't seen in about a year and a half. Sunday involved the words "boat" and "swimming" as well as some of my favorite people. Throw in a little work around the house, the NBA Finals and the series finale of the Sopranos, and I was looking at another great break from the daily grind.

What really happened? To begin with, Connor had trouble waking up from his nap Saturday, and didn't seem too excited about the RnR. When we got there he played a bit, but soon I realized he was mainly just sitting in a corner with his best friend's parents with a dazed look on his way-too-red face. I asked him what was up. "I'm tired. I don't really feel good." I asked if he wanted to leave, and he hopped up and made a beeline for the exit, mumbling a weak "Yes" over his shoulder. We managed to make it home before the barfing began, but ugh. My fun-filled afternoon was spent scrubbing the carpet and envying Chip and Chloe's outdoor revelry. I had to call my (childless) friend and fill her in, as I knew she'd want to make alternate sleeping arrangements. I was still able to go to dinner with her, but our extended evening of catching up did not happen.

I had heard this stomach bug passed quickly, and Connor's fever was gone by bedtime, so I awoke Sunday full of hope that I might salvage some of the weekend. Long story short, Connor spent most of the day in bed and my only outing was to the grocery store. At least we were able to get a lot of random touch-up painting done around the house, and fortunately by 5:00 Connor was ready to play a little bit outside and enjoy a backyard pizza picnic.

Another childless friend, one with a passion for her career and a limited number of sick days, said, "Well at least this happened on the weekend." I felt just the opposite, but it was too depressing to explain it to her. The weekends mean everything to me, especially as a working parent- I have so much trouble getting anything done on a weeknight outside of work, cooking dinner and getting the kids in bed! I save too much of my living for the weekend. Although it usually works out, weekends like this definitely reveal the flaws in my system. I hate to sound like a broken record, but I hope that someday soon I'll spend less time in the car and more time enjoying my family and friends, rather than just getting by until the 5:00 whistle blows on Friday.

Until then, here's hoping Tony Soprano can salvage what's left of my Sunday.