The Clampetts are Here

My weekend was uneventful. I was tired and semi crabby for most of it. I also had drainage of some sort in the back of my throat. Few things are quite as hot as the word, “drainage.”

I successfully managed to rise above my fatigue and crabbiness and leave the house with my family. Two times we hit the grocery store. Because this girl right here can inhale some fruit. Two times we hit the Bass Pro Shop near us. Because this girl right here is married to a guy that fancies himself an outdoorsman.

My children and I are pretty good sports about taking random outings to destinations that we’re not particularly excited about. I view it as hanging out with my family. My children view it as something they have no say in. Furthermore, they can jump all over us anywhere. There’s no rule that says that can only be done in our home. They also don’t have a problem playfully throwing crap at each other as cheap entertainment. At home we own the crap they’re throwing. In Bass Pro, we don’t. Works out perfect.

Our first trip was ill timed and there were zero free kiddie activities taking place at the store. The second time, there was all kinds of random crap going on. For example, apparently that place is big enough to have a carousel inside. Who, knew?

They also let your kid shoot things. I thought this was just some generous kid friendly crap until we came home with our own bow and arrow and every night after dinner I’m listening to the sound of the arrows hitting the target repeatedly. It’s apparently a good way for them to sell us stuff.

They even let them shoot BB guns. I’m sure my son’s wondering why one of those didn’t come home with us, too. It’s so hard to be him.

The train wreck pretending he's not a train wreck holding a loaded weapon.

The next day, after yet another round of Robin Hood in our backyard we checked out Despicable Me 2. That’s the 3rd time we’ve been to the movies in 2013 and it’s only July. I’m not even sure we went 3 times in all of 2012.

I’m tired of going to the movies. Or, more specifically, I’m tired of pay $27 at the snack counter and sitting on what I can only assume are grotesquely filthy seats. Although, that motor oil laden buttered popcorn is heaven sent. I don’t care how committed you are to not buying popcorn, either. Just walking in and smelling that stuff and I’ve already got my wallet in my hand.

After the movie, we came home and had some dinner. My husband was nice enough to clean up afterwards.

Yes. That is a dog licking my granite counter top. And since we were busy acting like the Clampett’s anyway, I told my kids to hold the saran wrap so I could take their picture. Yes, that's right, saran wrap.

Why photograph your kids next to a tree in the front yard when there's 2,000 square feet of saran wrap left on your industrial sized roll. 

Please note that’s the same industrial sized 3,000 square foot roll of saran wrap I photographed my daughter with 3 years ago. It’s also the same industrial sized roll of saran wrap my husband convinced me to buy at Sam’s 8 years ago. And it's also still the same industrial sized roll of saran wrap I’m going to shove into her arms minutes before her wedding so I can photograph her with it in a wedding dress.

I like that she looks slightly confused about why I'm photographing her with a roll of saran wrap.  Kid clearly has no idea who she's dealing with here. 

If she wants to make my life easy, she can just get married in our back yard and then I won’t have to tote the roll around town.  We’ll even pick up the dog poop and put the archery range away for the occasion. It’ll be super classy. For realz.