If you were to ask me how my weekend went, I would say it was dreamy.  And I would mean it.  Friday Mr. One took the family to a cute little pizza place on the other side of town. I spent Saturday at a lovely baby shower for a dear old friend.  Mr. One not only babysat BOTH children, he took them to a street festival and dressed the Princess in adorable ethnic garb.  Church on Sunday was particularly nice, and we snuck out a bit early to go to a beautiful garden party with a bunch of old colleagues.  Dreamy, right?

...And then I might remember that our family pizza date ended with a looooong Metro ride home, (since I lost my car keys, which are still -- and probably will remain forever -- missing).  And that all the tourists were giving us the stinkeye for having our kids out that late.  And then, on Sunday afternoon, Princess H found, and ate, a mother lode of laxitives. Which necessitated a trip to the ER, a big dose of activated charcoal, several hours of "observation" and more landry than I want to see for the rest of my life.  (I know you're wondering, She's totally fine, though I may need counseling to get over a) my guilt that the kid ate something so awful while ostensibly under my/our supervision, and, b) witnessing (and cleaning up) the combined fallout from that much Dulcolax and that much charcoal.  Not pretty.  Not pretty at all. 

But, even with my memory jogged, and with a full awareness of the lingering messes (new key/fob for the Volvo? $250.  Normalized toddler GI tract?  Not yet....), I'm still calling this one a net positive.  I'm so grateful that all my important stories have happy endings.  And I'll pick a full life over a tidy life any day of the week.