Day of the Labor 2k15

This Labor Day Weekend we broke our standard pattern of heading straight up to Conroe as soon as humanly possible.  Em had swim lessons on Friday evening and we needed to install a new pool cleaner at the house on Saturday morning.  My Dad graciously volunteered to come help us out because we had no idea what we were doing.  This seems to be a common theme.

Thankfully under his tutelage we successfully got the cleaner installed with none of those pesky "extra parts," Ryan swears are a real thing. We celebrated with an inaugural swim in the pool which Em capped off by introducing herself to the neighborhood.

Don't let the tutus and pink booties fool you- they are tough bosses.

Hellllooooooo world!  I'm here.

In order to avoid a visit from the HOA we decided to call it a day on productivity.  Ryan had plans to grunt swear drink beer watch the A&M opener with some of his guy friends, so my Dad was kind enough to shuttle the girls and I up to the lake so that we wouldn't have too many cars on the way back home.  

If you thought that the weekend couldn't get more exciting than installing a pool equipment and nudity, you were sadly mistaken.  Within 30 minutes of our arrival at the lake, Emery tried to eat ant poison and Brynn succeeded in swallowing a mouthful of dirt.  Clearly the ideal adult to child ratio is higher than 3:2.  Thanks to a turkey baster, some water and a cold beer, these situations were remedied without having to call poison control.

Luckily the remainder of the weekend was a little less action-packed.  We checked off all the standard weekend at the lake To-Do items: we swam, we laughed, we watched football, we took turns being manipulated by my offspring, we ate too much, we laughed some more.  So, in summary, it was perfect.  

Thank you VERY much to my parents for hosting and taking such good care of us.  There really aren't adequate words in the English language to properly convey our gratitude for this and so many other weekends.  We love you so much- almost as much as Emery likes to de-robe after swimming.  As any reader of this blog the last few weeks can attest- that's quite a bit.

Why do you people keep cramping my style with all these "doors" and "boundaries."

Oh, you don't want me to eat dirt Mom?  Fine.  I'll eat this bean and I'll scream about it while sister cries over the loss of that delicious looking nectar you kept calling "poison."

Who us?  Nope.  Didn't do it.