Zach told me the other day that June Bugs are actually grub worms that metamorphisize... metamorph..... metamorphisisize... turn into June Bugs. Like caterpillars and butterflies.

Is that true?

He knows I will believe anything and therefore will tell me anything because I will believe him. He also knows just a lot in general. Especially when it comes to dirt, grass, bugs and other lawn care related paraphernalia.

I just don't know what to believe.

I can't get myself to Google it because I'm terrified of even looking at pictures of the little monsters.


So until someone tells me differently, I will probably blurt this story out in public discussions with people I don't know, in an attempt to fill the silence and appear intelligent.


Oh boy. I better buck up and search engine this.


Anyways. I know it's been a long time.


Our summer. You know the excuse.


Plus, just when I totally committed myself to blogging once again, me and the girls got sick. And then Zach got sick. Not that Zach being sick affects my morning, but it is one more factor to the exhaustion and misery I went through over the last few weeks!

Yikes.

I was pretty pathetic though.


And my girls were worse.

And there was a LOT of No-Sleep involved....

But anyways.

I was inspired to blog this morning because two of the blogs I follow both posted.

Do you want to know something bizarre? Ok. These two blogs I follow are both friends of mine. And so I love reading their thoughts and what they are going through and what their mind is on. BUT, here's the strange part. They don't know each other at all. I mean, they've never even heard me speak of the other one to the other one.... follow? Anyways. They live in different states, would never even know of each other except maybe if they saw a post on my Facebook Wall. The point is, they don't know each other.

(I guess that's not so bizarre.... Ok. HERE is the bizarre part!)


All that to say, they always, always, always post a blog with in only a few hours of each other.


It's a phenomenon! Because neither one of them blogs every day or even regularly or with any kind of patter or rhyme or reason. They just blog whenever they get around to it. One has a child, the other is about to. Their schedules and even time zones are completely different. But they always, always blog the same day within a few hours.


I think it's totally strange.


Like, in a good, super weird coincidence way.


At first, I would see both posts and think, "Score." Two blogs-one sitting.


But now, like this morning, I almost expected the other blog, just because of the post by the other one earlier this morning.

And what's really strange about today is that they both posted this morning. They are ALWAYS night posters. Or most of the time.

I know. Crazy. It was like the other one didn't have a choice but to post this morning just because some cosmic force in the Universe is tying these two seemingly random entities together by an even random-er stream of blogging.

Whoa.

Come on, you know I'm over dramatic!


Ok, now that that's off my chest. Let me tell you about the worst weekend of my life!

Ha. Well, first let me say that I had a GREAT Weekend. Super fun. The girls and I had a great time getting away from Omaha. And we really did love our weekend.

But it was also a terrible weekend in sooooo many different ways!

And let me tell you why.

My mom and I had been planning on visiting my brother over the last weekend for a while. And not just to see him, but I have a cousin, on my dad's side, that does Broadway Musicals and he was in a production in Wichita where my brother lives over the last week. So we went to see his performance too.


Crazy For You.


That was the name of the performance. It's all Gershwin songs. If you're not familiar with Gershwin think "I've got rhythm. I've got dancing. I've got my man, who could ask for anything more?"

Or Mr. Holland's Opus. Whichever has more cultural relevance in your life.


So the week before we need to head up to Kansas. Or down. Or South. Or whatever. Me and the girl-ios get sick. Like, viral cold, high temps, explosive-sneezing, pee your pants coughing, sick. My voice turned into a version of the devil meets Mac's mom from Always Sunny. And my nose became an open faucet of running snot. I was a mess. A pure. Gross. Disgusting. Mess.

And my kids were just as bad.

Pathetic is what comes to mind.

But give up a weekend get-a-way to the ghetto part of Wichita, Kansas? Whatever. It was so not going to happen.

And I do mean. Ghetto.

More on that in a minute.

So anyways. The ride down was what you could expect. The five hour drive took seven with the kids and the handy but oh so not-lotioned box of Kleenex in the van did exactly what you would expect: caught the snot and rubbed the nose raw.

We get to Wichita.

Finally.

Find our hotel. Ahem.... I mean. Motel. Oh boy is there a difference.

Something I learned this weekend was that my mother's definition of "A really, super nice motel." And the definition I keep in my head of "A really, super nice motel," are completely different. Opposite planets different! :)

Bless her heart, it's not her fault. It was her second time staying in the motel and she had no expectations the first time and was therefore able to be pleasantly surprised. Where the miscommunication happened was in her sales pitch to me of the Garden Inn and Suites that was "Super nice, very nice, really, really nice."

My interpretation of all of those adjectives was simply that she kept leaving off the "Hilton" part of Garden Inn and Suites.

Upon arrival. I realized my mistake. Hilton I doubt, has even ever heard of Wichita, Kansas.

Anyways. I've stayed in some bad places. In Sri Lanka with rats, and roaches and stray, rabbi-infested cats. And in other places too.... Like camping and stuff..... (PS I just tried to use Peru and Romania as examples, them being third world countries and all, but I honestly couldn't think of a place that was worse.... Ssshhh.... Don't tell mom...)

Anyways, we checked in to the motel. We got settled. We changed clothes. We split ways.

You see, my brother took over-time hours for the night, (Yea, I know, we drove all the way there to see him and what does he do....?) (JK), and my mom went to my cousins show with my other cousins(Because we didn't have a babysitter in Wichita obviously, so mom went Friday and me and Robbie and his girlfriend went Saturady.) Ok. Moving on.

Anyways, I took the girls to the mall, they had been sitting ALL day and definitely needed to run around. Despite the fevers, coughs and runny noses I decided a public place would be our best option. To the mall play place it is then!

And they DID have fun!

That is until it was time to go to dinner.

That part wasn't so much fun.

You know those families who take their kids out to eat way after bedtime and the child has completely lost any ability to behave or sit and eat. They are over tired, probably don't feel well and forced to behave well in public? The end result is a screaming child, thrown food, spilled drinks and nervous breakdown for both the parents and waiter.

Yep. That was us.

I had a nice little craving for chips and salsa. My most favorite of all time snack/appetizer. I mean, I even get chips and salsa at Old Chicago and that's like eating stewed tomatoes out of a can. I can't help myself though, I just love the dip, bite, crunch whole aspect of it.

So anyways. Carlos O'Kellys it was. I know, it's like not even Mexican.

They seat us. And it takes them 10 minutes to bring me a high chair! Have you met Scarlett? She sometimes is possessed by an evil monster named Destructo that wants to DESTROY everything within reach. I need my damn high chair and I need it now! (Says the crazy-eyed lady with the Tasmanian Devil for a child.)

Finally they bring it! Finally. Oh wait, after the waiter leaves and I force Scar into a sitting position. This one is broken.

Awesome.

I need those straps, ok? Those straps are the only thing standing between my Sanity and Coo Coo KaChoo.

The waiter comes back. Well, first he sees I'm close to tears. And then he comes back. We replaces the high chair, after I inform him in my nicest/bitchiest/I-mean-business voice that it cannot under any circumstances have a broken strap again, Do you understand me Mr.??

We get the high chair situation under control. I order much needed beverages. I look over to Stella who hasn't said a word in minutes and she looks back at me and suddenly yells as loudly as possible,

"MOMMY, OH NO! I'M PEEING!!!!!!"

WHAT????? No you're not. Stop it. Stop it right now!

I totally force her legs into a cross legged position and plead desperately, HOLD IT.

It's wayyy to late. The legs cross, and a tidal wave of little kid urine splashes down the side of the booster seat and booth and Stella exclaims uncharacteristically loud, "Too late mom. I peed."

I look over at Scarlett who is currently dumping lemonade onto her head and ripping up napkins into the tiniest of pieces and throwing them on the floor.

I look over at the waiter who is avoiding all eye contact with me and in fact I think scribbling out his two week notice hurriedly on the back of a receipt, before he has to come back over to my table.

I look down at my phone, mentally calculating if Zach can make the drive up from Omaha before this place closes.

And I realize it's all useless. I'm the parent. I'm the only one here. I have to fix this. There is no other option but me.

It's time to grow some balls.

(Figuratively.)

I turn back to the waiter and give a forceful "Hey!" that brings him a-runnin' and inform him we will be right back. No one should touch our table. We are definitely coming back and he better be ready by the time we do.

I pick up both girls football style and my purse over my shoulder we book it to the car, that happens to be on the other side of the parking lot.

Stella doesn't have accidents. I should tell you this. The girl is as prim and proper as it gets. I don't carry extra clothes, I don't carry extra undies. She's not going to need it. I'm not going to bring it.

That being said, thank the Lord for small miracles.

At the mall we had just purchased a pair of shorts for her. They were two bucks at Old Navy and I couldn't pass them up. Now I know why! And in the car, because of the long trip I happened to have a pull-up.

Back in the store we go. Well, ok, that took like 15 minutes. I had to give Stella a bath in wet wipes and Scarlett destroyed the car in the process.

But eventually we made it back to our table. I cleaned the uh, pee up with an entire packet of wet wipes and ordered our food.

The rest of the meal is a blur of Stella falling asleep on the booth, Scarlett throwing her rice all over the floor, her lemonade all over her self and her empty tortilla shells all over the table next to us. The girl's got aim.

Oy.

When we got back to the hotel. Scarlett took her blanket and laid down in the middle of the floor. Stella unpacked her suitcase to find pajamas and asked politely if she could please go to bed now.

I sneezed an "Of course dear." And collapsed into a twitching pile of anxiety next to her.

That's just Friday Night. The weekend hasn't even started yet.

This is definitely a two-parter......