created dealt with. Most Saturdays, we leisurely awake, stay in PJs for a while, hang out as family. Take our time to get out of bed, but in time to head out for lunch at our favorite place Rustys, where we lolligag and discuss the rest of the day’s activities (or at least what remains of the rest of the day). Today, not so much. We woke up at the LAST possible minute, leaving exactly enough time to shower, throw on clothes, brush teeth, and get Anne Louise’s bottle, breakfast, diapers, travel high chair, etc., ready to take to the Ross Wilsons’ house for the morning so Patrick and I could attend the membership class at Uptown Church. Oh yeah, Anne Louise. Bless her heart. She didn’t ask for parents like us. Five minutes before we headed out the door, we grabbed Anne Louise out of her crib, changed her diaper, threw on an outfit, and left the house. All while she giggled and cooed . . . bless her heart. Thankfully (and probably anticipating our tardiness), Aunt Denise and Hill met us as we pulled in their driveway, where we did the hand off. “Thanks for watching Anne Louise while we’re at the church membership class. Here’s her bag overflowing with who-knows-what-just-in-case- you-need-it, a bottle, some cereal, change of clothes, bib, and her crib (not really, but might as well have brought that). Oh, and Anne Louise just made a HUGE dirty diaper in the quarter of a mile it took us to drive to your house.” Thanks Anne Louise for saving that for them. Thanks.
We rushed off to church (but somehow managed just enough time to squeeze in a stop by Starbucks) and arrived as (drum roll ….) NOT the last people. YAY! HUGE accomplishment for the Magee family to not be late. Especially on a Saturday morning. The class was great; we learned alot; and it even ended a few minutes early. Back to the Ross Wilsons’ house, where we picked up Anne Louise JUST as she had fallen asleep in Aunt Denise’s arms. No nap, you say? NO PROBLEM! We have the best baby in America, she’ll be FINE while we go for our traditional Rusty’s Saturday lunch. Right. I order lunch, and Patrick brings in AL, sans pacifier, toys, high chair cover, anything. She looks adorable sitting and getting all germed-up in the public high chair as the cute little cover sits in our car. This is about the time we started missing our little baby-in-a-bucket. And it wasn’t really that bad when she started saying DA-DA-DA at the top of her lungs. Unsuspecting fellow lunch-goers offered that fake isnt-she-so-cute-i-wish-she-wasnt-so-loud smile, and we tried to use the “free” distractions like napkins and blackberry covers. As her “cuteness” got louder, it became OBVIOUS that Patrick needed to make a quick run to the car to get the pacifier, lovies, toys, whatever he could get his hands on. Did I say quick? Well, in the 4 billion minutes (or so it felt like) that he was gone, Anne Louise managed to throw 3 napkins and a blackberry cover on the floor, each time squeeling with frustration (with plenty of whining mixed in for good measure), as I panicked on how to keep her from a breakdown. Food came, which would normally be a good thing, but Anne Louise took that as a cue to get louder. Great. And to top it all off, I spilled Patrick’s drink EVERYWHERE as I reached down to pick up Anne Louise’s latest sacrifice thrown to the floor. I literally shuffled back and forth between picking up a few cubes of ice and trying to calm AL, back to wipe a little more coke, back to quiet Anne Louise. Who knew how hard it was to clean a spilled drink and calm an antsy baby at the same time? It felt like there was an entire football field in between Anne Louise and the spilt coke that I had to constantly run back and forth between. And the poor unmarried guys who had just finished a round of golf and were trying to have a relaxing lunch (and were obviously on their ways to pledging their celibacy as they watched the Anne Louise Show), offered to help and tried to console me with “I’m sure that’s not the first drink that’s ever been spilt here.” Clearly, this was bachelor-code for “Please leave the coke on the floor and PLEASE tend to that noisy- not-crying-but- not-cooing child of yours.” After what seemed like an eternity, Patrick finally arrived back inside with a pacifier and one of her “chew toys.” Of course, it was nothing but giggles and smiles from there on out. Of course.
THEN, we had the NERVE to come home. As if the Anne Louise Lunch Saga wasn’t enough for a Saturday, we walked into the lovely smell of the dogs having gone to the bathroom inside the laundry room. Seriously? SERIOUSLY? Being the sacrificial loving wife that I am, I immediately claimed AL duty while Patrick headed off to clean the sewage treatment plant the dogs created in the laundry room. Any sort of pity you may have for Patrick should end now, because as I was changing Anne Louise’s diaper, she peed ALL OVER herself, the changing table, her clothes. It was like the flood gates opened. And bless her heart, I had to take her soaked outfit off over her head. Bless her heart. So, bathtime came a little early today.
To recap, by 2:00 this afternoon, the Magees have: (1) woken up late (and too early for a Saturday); (2) rushed to be on time somewhere; (3) blew out a diaper for someone-not-a-Magee to change; (4) had a temper tantrum breakdown (in the small confines of a public place, I might add); (5) learned the lesson of bringing toys and pacifiers anywhere you go; (6) inhaled our lunch; (7) cleaned up dog poop and baby pee; and (8) settled in for a long winters nap. No wait. Not all of us did. Anne Louise has been asleep for two hours now (thank goodness), and in the meantime, our wonderful loving father/husband aka Felix has somehow managed to completely disassemble the screened-in porch to clean the cushions and pressure wash the rest of it. 
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