Weekend of wrath

Oh. I am SO TIRED. I need coffee, but I'm so tired, I can't even make it to the coffee machine. I'm either really tired, or really lazy...pick one. Or both.

This weekend was interesting for many reasons. Let me give you the highlights: forgotten medication, lots of wine, and a child that should just be sentenced now, because she's on the path to becoming a juvenile delinquent.

Let me start with the part that just started off my entire weekend with a bang: I forgot to get my meds refilled. "That's okay," you think, "because 50% of the medication will still be in your body the next day." Yes, true. But when that missing 50% is so important, it's imperative that you don't ever let it get away. Which I did. Which was not good. Let's just say there was much uttering of bad words, teeth-clenched headshaking, husband-hating, and patience-losing. For the most part, I was able to keep quiet. I digress.

On to the fun part: Lots of wine. Not TOO much, but quite a bit. Let me just share with you, that Venezuela turns out lots of good wine. Not just "good" wine, but particularly fabulous wine wherein you can drink an entire bottle and not even realize it. Maybe you don't realize it because you have inhaled the entire bottle, but then again, maybe not.

The not-so-fun part: We went over to our good friends' house on Sunday. A day of  relaxation, friendship, and apparently, whining, crying, screaming, stubbornness, and hitting-boys-with-pieces-of-race-track. 

We didn't go over there until 430, but at 230, we were seriously debating whether one of us should just stay home with Jenna, and save our friends (and their kids) from her wrath. Idiots that we are, we decided to take her. (Cue 'scary movie' music.) Instead of reliving the horror, I'll just cut it short and say that the following things were involved: shrieking, screaming, whining, crying; hitting a nice boy in the face with a piece of flexible, plastic racetrack; not apologizing, refusing to apologize, downright refusing to utter a syllable of apologetic phrasing to the boy, finally uttering apology after being warned that no dessert will be issued; refusing to give goodbye hugs/kisses/pats/high-fives, or any other show of friendship; breaking boys' hearts. Wow. We are off to SUCH a good start to those tumultuous teenage years.