Weekends are supposed to be for resting, right?

Well, resting, cleaning, spending quality time with the family. Yes?

Mine wasn't at all restful. Aside from a hellish pre-St. Patty's Day meeting we had at the pub where the servers aired all their grievances about the host staff (where we got no rebuttal), I had three little girls at my hous for about 18 hours.

That's right. My little one plus two. Bean had made friends with a girl in preschool, and now that we're on opposite ends of town, I occasionally have her and her sister over to spend the night with Bean. Besides, their mom is a young single mom of THREE children, and I know sometimes it's nice to have alone time.

I brought them home, and Taylor, my daughter's best friend, is afraid of our dog, Maynard. I don't understand how anyone can be afraid of such a loveable little guy. But she is. So while I was preparing spaghetti, there was much screeching and running and enticing the dog to chase them so they could run away.

After dinner, I thanked God silently for having a small family. The amount of dishes used for one meal for three children and two adults, OY! I set them up in Bean's room with a game and a movie while I worked out. After the workout, I got them popcorn. When they were done with popcorn, they wanted ice cream. And that's fine. Bean doesn't eat like that all the time, and it was all in good fun.

Well, the little buggers were up until midnight. And of course Steve crashed at 9:00 leaving me to stay awake to keep an eye on them. There were a couple of arguments and some tears. Oh, the drama of first graders!

When I woke up the next morning, it was to more squealing and, in a French accent, "I'm so sorry about zee belly hair." I should explain that. We imagine that Maynard, if he could speak, would use a French accent, and that he would apologize profusely for leaving his little grey stomach hairs all over the carpet.

I looked at the clock (6:30) and made Steve get up with the girls while I slept an extra hour since I wasn't feeling well.

Only I had forgotten about the time change. But I didn't. I just thought for some reason that it changed in the middle of the night between Sunday and Monday rather than Saturday and Sunday.

I didn't really sleep at all that next hour, though, so I got up to make cinnamon rolls. From scratch. Because that's what you do when you're vegan and can't pop a can of Pillsbury.

After breakfast and even MORE dishes, I tried to corral all the girls to brush their teeth. Taylor's sister just flat out refused, and I finally conceded that her mother would just have to make her do it later. It's harder than you'd think to try and get three girls to brush their teeth, get dressed, and get their things in order to leave the house.

We left 45 minutes later than I'd anticipated.

And after dropping them off, the house was in shambles, so I cleaned.

And now I'm wondering where my weekend went. I'm beat. Bean was beat this morning. The animals are still recovering.

I just have to hold on until Saturday now.