Having an average weekend

What is an average weekend? It goes something like this:

Saturday morning: Henry and I head to our "Music Together" class for an hour of singing and dancing. The teacher this fall is new, and not quite as engaging as the previous instructor. But today the class goes pretty well. When we're done, we get back into the car and head for the grocery store to tackle the weekend's big chore. It used to be impossible to shop with Henry because he'd refuse to sit in the cart. But these days he's fine with it. As long as I give him a raisin pita to munch on and hand each item of food to him for inspection before dropping it in the cart, he actually seems to enjoy the errand. We arrived at the giant Loblaw's right around 11 a.m., and while I was babbling away to Henry and scanning my list, I slowly realized that everyone else in the store was standing perfectly still, silent, with their head bowed down. I was weirded out for a second, then it hit me: Remembrance Day! Moment of Silence at 11:11! Oops! I stopped in my tracks and told Henry to hush. He responded by yelling LALALALALALA-LA-LA! Oh well. He's two. What can you do?
Saturday afternoon: Blah blah housework. Blah blah freelance work. Blah blah entertain Henry. Same old same old. But today, an exciting twist: Tom's new colleague is having a dinner party. Everyone invited has small children, so it starts at 4 p.m. We have fun, although I spend the first half of the party filled with envy at the guy's house. It's nice. As in, they gutted the interior of an old character house and pimped the place out with high-end fixtures and a gourmet kitchen. How does an assistant professor swing this, I wonder. Turns out the guy's wife is a doctor. Ah. Anyway, we enjoy the company. Really good food. And Henry always loves playing with another kid's toys.
Saturday evening: We leave the party around 7:30. Even though we're the first to leave, staying that "late" means we're pushing it with Henry's bedtime. We gamble and lose. Henry's in a great mood until we walk in the door. Then he kicks off a 3-alarm tantrum, refusing to sit down in the bath and demanding to be put back in the clothes he wore to the dinner party instead of his pajamas. We comply, because this is one of those times it's just not worth the fight. After much hollering he settles in to sleep, and Tom and I settle in to watch our favorite show, Battlestar Galactica (don't laugh--it's awesome).

Sunday morning: Henry wakes up at 7 a.m. At least we don't have to get him dressed this morning. For some reason, he will not let me come downstairs with him most mornings. Daddy Only is the hard and fast rule. Upside: I get to sleep in. Downside: Henry expresses his preference by stating, "I not love you, Mommy!" Thanks, kid. I don't take him at his word. I've heard it all before. I'm allowed downstairs after an hour or so. And he loves me again, too.
Sunday mid-morning: Tom heads out for his weekend jog. Henry and I make a batch of blue play-do. Once that gets boring we put on our coats and head down to the canal to feed the ducks. Good fun. We head home and bake up some cookies from the dough I made a few days ago. Playtime. Watch Jakers.
Sunday afternoon: Henry's getting antsy, so Tom decides to take him to the newly remodeled Canadian Museum of Nature to see the dinosaurs. It's a long walk, but they set out on foot. I stay home. Blah blah housework. Why am I such a slob? Why can't I keep a single surface in my home uncluttered? What is that crust on our good leather chair? Ahhhh! Blah blah laundry. Blah blah freelancing. Tom and Henry get home late in the afternoon. More playtime. Let him watch the hyper-annoying Go, Diego, Go while I get dinner ready. Chicken stir fry. Henry has spaghetti. He wants to hear "Baby Beluga" before bed. I cue it up and we dance. Bathtime, storytime and bedtime go very smoothly. Tom and settle in to watch our second favorite show, The Amazing Race (for anyone who cares, I'll do a recap tomorrow). Some blogging, then off to bed.

And that about does it.