Kid Tossing, Inside the Park Homeruns, Donkeys Named Jaxon - Just your ordinary weekend in the King house.

I know that, in the past, I've joked about having our own reality TV show. Okay, maybe I was half joking. Oh, alright, I wasn't joking. If we did, in fact, have our own TV show, this weekend would've been one of those sped up montages set to music. You know, the kind where they speed up video of us running all over the place, and dub over the audio with something rag-timey, like Scott Joplin's 'The Entertainer'. And every once in a while they'd lower the volume of the music, and you'd hear me say some random phrase, like "Hey! Let go of that Donkey's tail!" or "Don't eat that banana! Here, at least let me dust the grass off of it first." or "Stop throwing the pink squishy thing. I'm not getting it off the top of the dugout again." (Yes, all three of those phrases were spoken at some point during this past weekend.)

So I'm going to attempt to give you a quick run down of the weekend. Just remember to read it really fast, and keep 'The Entertainer' in the back of your head.

Friday

I got off of work at 3:30, went to pick Tori up from school, and waited, and waited and waited in the student pick up line. Didn't get home until 4:15. And I work less than 6 miles from home, and Tori's school is on my way home. I got home to drop Tori off just as Cole, Gavin, and Scarlett were getting off of their bus. I then braved the 5:00 traffic to get Jaxon from daycare, got home, and the kids asked if we could go to the pool. And once Jax hears the word 'pool', you better take him. Just trust me. So I lather everyone up in sunscreen, then we all head to the pool.

This is the kind of shenanigans I'm forced to deal with

Up until this point, Jax has been terrified to go in the pool by himself. He was getting a little more brave at the end of the Florida trip, but he would still cling to your neck like a Latrell Sprewell/Bobby Knight confrontation. (For the nonbasketball fans out there, Sprewell was a player who choked his coach, and Knight was a coach who choked his player. The main point that you should take from this analogy, though, is that Jax kept a tight grip around your neck while he was in the water.) But on Friday, after I put his floaties on him, he just walked right into the swimout area of the pool, got to where he couldn't stand, turned around and said, "I swimmin, Daddy. I swimmin." And now that Jax felt more comfortable in the water, I could focus on throwing Cole, Gavin, and Tori in the pool. I've been throwing Cole around in the pool since he was 5, and weighed about 40 pounds. It's still pretty easy throwing him around, though, because even though he's 9, and weighs about 45 pounds. (And I think that the extra 5 pounds is just hair.) Of course, once Gavin sees me throwing Cole, he wants a turn. And Gavin is just a tad bit thicker than Cole. (Actually, he probably outweighs Cole by 25 lbs.) I'm still able to get Gav to do front flips, back flips, cannonballs; pretty much the same stuff as Cole, just not as high. Then Tori sees me throw Gavin, and she wants a try. And Tori's about 100+ lbs of solid softball muscle. Not an easy task. So they take turns getting thrown, and I keep track of who's turn it is by separating it into three categories: 'Cole', '2 more times until I get to throw Cole', and 'Last one before my shoulder gets a break'. After the pool, we go home, make everyone dinner (Thank you, Zatarains), take baths, and play video games upstairs while Jax tries to get a pillow fight going, then hit the sack at about 10:00.

Saturday

I wake up Tori at 6:30 to bring her to her softball tournament. Get to the field with our required condiments that we were supposed to bring for everyone, but I didn't have time to pick up plates, napkins, and silverware. Crap. I had to run back home anyway, because it's almost 8 am now, and Rach has to leave to go to work at 8:45, and this was just the pool play game, so it didn't really matter. I stop at the store on the way home: and pick up plates, napkins, and silverware. Then go home and get the other 4 kids ready. Head back out to the field, drop of the plates, napkins, and silverware, only to find out that Tori's next game wasn't for another 3 hours. We go to the park to let the kids play for a bit, then I take the opportunity to get a workout in. Take the 4 kids to the gym, make sure Jax goes potty before I work out, and as I'm putting his underwear on, my water bottle leaks from my bag and drenches my shirt. (okay, it was a wifebeater. 'Shirt' may be an overstatement. I'm nothing if not consistent.) I power through the wifebeater drenched workout, and even clean and press a personal best 235 lbs. (For all of the non weightlifters out there, that's where I put 235 lbs on the bar, hold it out in front of me, squat down, throw the weight onto the front of my shoulders, then extend my arms up and push it over my head. But all you really need to know is that it helps with the kid-toss distance in the pool.) I finish the workout, gather up the kids, and head back to the field. Good thing we got back in time, because on Tori's first at bat, with 2 runners on, she cranked one to the fence and managed to lumber around for an inside the park home run. And yes, she lumbered. She's actually really fast, and flew around 1st, 2nd, and 3rd base, but the combination of tired legs and not knowing whether to slide or stand up caused her to trip and almost tag home plate with her face. Seriously, it was not the most graceful of endings. Pete Rose, she is not. (which I'm okay with, by the way.) The game gets finished, another two hour break, and Jaxon is a zombie. He was staring at his peanut butter and jelly sandwich like it was trying to talk to him. And apparently, whatever the sandwich was saying to him was confusing the hell out of him. We leave Tori at the field and head back home with the 4 kids. Jax fell asleep in the truck before we were even out of the parking lot. When we got home, as I was leaning over to put Jaxon in his bed, I got a whiff of myself, and I had no idea how my stench didn't wake him up. It was like I was wearing a full body gym sock. My shirt smelled sockish, if that makes sense. Anyway, even though I knew I had to go back to the field, I had to take a shower. Then, what seemed like 17 seconds after my shower, it was time to go back to Tori's next game. I load up the kids, go back to the game, watch Tori's team get waxed, and find out she's got another game to play that night. Maxine had just gotten there with Chris, her friend visiting from New Orleans. Not wanting to subject the kids to another softball game, (and also not wanting to miss the beginning of the Saints-Texans preseason game), Chris and I take the 4 kids to the store to get BBQ materials for dinner. We got home, and I had to find a live stream of the Saints game off of the internet because apparently DirecTV's Sunday Ticket doesn't include preseason games. (I was able to find a live feed, and hook the computer up to the 50" TV. Ain't technology great?) I went outside to start the grill and put the burgers on, then Rach got home from work and started researching washing machines. (Ours broke last week. Actually, it committed suicide. No, Really. It did. We found a note and everything. The note said, "Give me a freaking break. I'm tired. Between the 5 kids and all of the stank workout clothes, I can't take it anymore! You can take my gears, and shove it! Heavy Duty cycle this, biatch!" I don't even blame it, although that last part seemed a little unnecessary.) Anyway, Rach, Chris, and I chatted about washing machines for a minute, then --Oh, Crap! The Burgers!! I ran outside to the grill, and immediately morphed into Kurt Russell from Backdraft. Except instead of a water hose, I had a spatula. And instead of saving fellow firefighters from a burning building, I was saving my hamburgers from an angry gas powered grill. I was able to save most of them, but one poor guy on the back of the grill was just too deep into the flames. And sadly, my spatula was not long enough to save him. I tried from every angle on the grill, but I couldn't get within 3 inches of the poor burning slab of beef without my hand getting scorched. (Alright, maybe scorched is a little strong, but I tell you what, if I didn't shave my fingers, I think the hair would've been burnt right off) I refused to give up, but then I heard (or imagined) a voice calling out in slow motion, "Letttttt meeeee goooooooo, Buulllllll!!" Then I closed the grill and went inside with the hamburgers. I finished fixing dinner, bathed Jax, watched the Saints game (Mike Bell, huh?), then tried to offer my opinion on the washing machine decision, (That's right, she was still researching. If any of you have ever gone shopping with Rach, you understand. You know how much of a beating it is to watch her make a choice. And I don't mean just shopping for big items either. It could be anything; milk, bread, washing machines, tic tacs, whatever. We'll go to the grocery store with a list of 162 things, and she stops at the first one, "This pack of meat has 12 slices, and this one has 16. But this one is 17 cents cheaper. And it has 20% less sodium. Hand me my phone, so I can google user comments on these packs of turkey." I'm not even joking. Needless to say, she took the washing machine purchase pretty seriously. I tried to help for a while, but passed out at about 11:30 before a decision had been reached.

Sunday

I woke Tori up at 6:00 to bring her to her coach's house so he could take her to day 2 of the tournament, went to the gym and when I got home at about 7:30, I heard Jax calling for me from his room. "Daddy.....Daddy.....(I open the door)....I poo poo in pants." And of course, it's on a Sunday before church. 3 for 3. Anyway, I cleaned him up, woke up Rach, woke up Scarlett, woke up the boys, got ready, got Jaxon ready, told Cole to brush his teeth, told Scarlett she couldn't wear those shoes, told Gavin to feed the cat (He's the only one ever ready), told Cole to get his shoes on, made Jaxon a waffle, told Cole to brush his teeth, made Scarlett some cereal, told Cole to brush his teeth, packed Jaxon's bag, told the kids to get in the car, told Cole to get his shoes on, found Cole's shoes for him, went to church, checked the kids in, and --Ahhhh peacefulness-- church ended, got the kids, went to the park, Rach had to leave for work, pushed the kids on the swings, Jax wanted to go higher, but I was already envisioning him flying across the playground, so umm, no. Went home, made lunch, and found out Tori lost her game. She came home, which was good, because that meant I didn't have to take the boys, who we'll nickname Hurricane and Tornado, to the neighbor's daughter, Hanna's, 5th birthday party. The party was at a ranch style house that had a big swimming pool, a playground, and horses and donkeys for the kids to ride. I took Scarlett and Jaxon to the birthday party, but had to stop by Rach's work to get Hanna's present first. We got to the party 30 minutes late, and I realized that I forgot my swimsuit. And of course, the first thing the kids wanted to do was get in the pool.

Jax: You get in pool, Daddy? You get in?

Me: No, buddy. I forgot my bathing suit.

Jax: That's okay. I swim anyway.

The kids swam for a little while, Scarlett simultaneously scared and impressed the hell out of me by sliding down the slide backwards and head first, "That was awesome! But don't do it again." It was extra impressive because Scarlett is usually deathly afraid of anything that can be considered 'moderately safe.' The kids got out of the pool, ate pizza, then came time to ride the horses. Jax was immediately intrigued by the donkeys. Coincidentally, the donkey's name was Jackson. I'm not sure if there's any real significance there, but I'm pretty sure it means he's gonna be a jackass like his daddy.

More similarities than differences, really

Anyway, Scarlett was the first of the kids to ride the big horse, who later tried to buck another little girl off of its back. The owner chalked it up to the horse being in a bad mood. What? Really? Either way, Doonie wasn't getting back on that bronco.

So I walk up to the horse and say, "Hey. Why the long face?"

A couple minutes later, the horse tried to throw a little boy off, and at this point, all of the kids were scared of the ornery beast. A couple minutes later, while we were singing eating the cake, I heard some commotion from where the horses were standing. Apparently, an overzealous pony must've gotten a little too close to the big horse's liking, because when I looked over, the big horse was up on two legs, then it kicked the crap out of the poor little pony. Right in the ribcage. Judging by the sound of the thud, I thought the pony would be pretty hurt. Especially since the pony slid, fell over, and rolled about 20 feet. And at this point, all of the adults were scared of the ornery beast. Shortly after that, thankful that everyone's heads were still attached to their necks, we went home. Once I got home, I felt bad that the other kids got left out of the birthday festivities, so we all went to the pool again. More swimming and kid tossing, followed by dinner, baths, and bed. And hoping to get enough rest to start the week at 4:30 Monday morning.

That montage was a lot longer than I expected. I think I may need to get some more Scott Joplin songs. Maybe I'll get Rach to research some of those for me. Nah, I'll get them myself, because I'll probably need another song this weekend.