Labor weekend

I think my Labor Day weekend was literally a labor weekend. Friday, I was told at the last minute that we were going to meet some of my husband's friends for a late dinner.

Hello? Wedding to shoot next day and I have a massive stress headache? Fortunately, my husband likes to ignore me and went ahead and let them know that we'd be there.

The next day, I dragged myself to the wedding and right away my day was going to be heck. The videographer (who turned out to be an awesome gal) and I were handed a photo list that we were told must be followed to the tee or they would hang us from our toes and stick porcupine needles up our noses. No pressure there-we only missed two on the list. She shouldn't be too mad.

Wait. Who is that knocking on my front door?

Just kidding.

This couple was sweet-even with the list.

I survived the wedding only to have to wake up mega early on Sunday to clean the house and prepare for the grandbaby's birthday party. I made fifty cupcakes, iced them in Spongebob colors, and blew up lots of balloons.

Please don't laugh at my terrible frosting job-the icing really sucked.

After the party, I was told by the hubby that we had to go to a cookout out of town.

Really? I'm not twenty anymore, buddy.

The cookout wasn't so bad. I didn't have to take pictures. I didn't have to blow up balloons. Not even one cupcake to frost. But, I did take credit for the fruit pizza we bought from the store.

Oh yeah.

That's right.

I did that.