I cannot believe it's almost Labor Day weekend. I swear, it feels like summer just started. Now we're giving it a grand send-off and welcoming in the fall. For the past several years, my family has gone to my grandpa's country house in Fredericktown, Mo. And when I say my family, I mean me, Chris, the kids, my parents, my sisters, my brother, my brother-in-law, my sister's boyfriend, my niece and my nephew. That's a lot of people. It is, however, the only time of year we get together for an extended period of time. We almost always have a good time. For some reason, though, this year I'm not particularly excited about it. I think it has to do with keeping reigns on a six year old, two year old and five month old in the middle of hillbillyville that scares the bejeebies out of me. I will be a nervous wreck, but I know the kids will have fun. And when I say kids, I mean Chris included. Wrangling all three children in unfamiliar territory would not be such a daunting task if Chris did not succumb to the alluring range of activities in which to partake. For the past few years, I've taken care of Grace or Grace and Alex primarily single-handedly while Chris played washers, shot rifles and bows and arrows, fished and raced motorcycles throughout the entire acreage. Typically I didn't mind. Every once in awhile I'd shoot him a dirty look or make a snide comment about how I could use some assistance. He'd help but only temporally.
This weekend, though, I WILL need much more assistance than I've received in the past. And he knows this. We won't be arriving until Saturday evening, due to the working man's schedule. That alone relieves some of my worries. I'm off work on both Friday and Saturday so I will have plenty of time to clean the house and pack the eleventy billion things we'll need to take with us. Again, more tension relieved. I think by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, I'll be excited about the weekend.