Robo Mouse and Kiddie Mosh Pits

Why is it that everything we do as treats for our kids, is almost always hell for the parents? Furthermore, why do I consistently cram that hell into one weekend?

It all started on Friday when we decided to get Gavin's haircut. Sounds simple enough, right? WRONG! Getting Gavin's haircut requires me and three emplyees to hold him down and more snot and tears than cut hairs. We even go to one of those annoying kid hair salon where they play cheesy pop tunes sung by hordes of tone-deaf children and video monitors are everywhere with colorful cartoon characters in the shape of scissors (ummmm, hello?) prancing about singing of the joys of a haircut. The Gavinator was not impressed. He was screaming before his butt was even in the chair. I swear one day we are going to find out Gavin is the first human with nerve endings in his hair.

To buy back his love after the torture forced upon him, we took him to Chuck E. Cheese. Nothing says mommy and daddy love you like overpriced pizza and yet more stimulation, right? The trip to Chuck E. Cheese was also a reward for how well he has been doing in therapy for SENSORY INTEGRATION DISORDER!! Are we the biggest morons ever? Hey, you are really making progress, son, so lets drop you in the middle of what is essentially a kiddie acid trip and see how far you can backslide. Trauma builds character, right? Gavin actually did very well at the house of the mouse. There was a train there and Gavin loves trains almost as much as he loves screaming so he stood with his face pressed to the glass watching the train ever so closely only stopping with the train stopped to sign and say "more" which, if I haven't mentioned already is one of the cutest things ever! He wasn't too into the games or the food but he loved Chuck E.. When that big robotic mouse started singing and dancing, Gavin fell under his spell and just stood there rocking back and forth in time to the music with drool running out of his mouth. Everything in the world just disappeared. Time ceased to exist. There was Gavin. There was Chuck E.. It was magical. If Chuck E. had been riding a train I think Gavin's head would have exploded.

Last night I took Gavin and Grace to a birthday party at Pump It Up. I never thought it would end. It was a four year old's birthday party (grandson of a coworker) so figured we would be forced to bounce with our children in the middle of the giant rave for an hour max. Yea, right. They let us in to the inflatable party zone at 5:15 and the doors to the party room (and much needed food and drink) didn't open until a few minutes after 7:00. Gavin insisted I bounce with him in the kiddie mosh pits and I was dying. Two hours of inflatable fun? The kids were dropping like flies and by 6:30 the line to the water fountain was longer than the line to go up the massive slide. The massive slide, by the way, freakin' rocked. I highly recommend it. Gavin absolutely loved it and Grace just looked around with her eyebrows furrowed wishing that she could have a boob in her mouth but no way was I going to attempt to nurse Miss Pops-off-a-lot in the middle of this light and sound spectacular. I got the kids home by 8:30 which was an hour and a half past their bedtimes so they didn't get to sleep until after 9:00. I was hoping they would sleep in. My hopes were dashed at 5 this morning. My butt is so sore.

You know you're officially a 30 year old mom when you spend your Sunday nursing a Chuck E. Cheese/Pump it Up Party hangover.