Of Dance and Dogs and Bump-Its.

This is what an early Sunday evening after a long weekend of dance recitals looks like, when you're lucky enough to have Grandma come in for the occasion. 

First, though, we survived a week that included days of round-the-clock smoking of meats, in prep to host my entire office for the summer hail and farewell (Seth's meat is always the main event)

and a game of "how many kids can you fit on the back of a golf cart?"

Seth spent most of last summer with open stitches, unable to go in the water, and it's safe to say that the whole family is delighted to kick off the long, sweltering summer with Dad in the pool. 

Also, the help of a very tall Dad is required for serious fly killing after hours of entertaining and leaving screen doors open.

Friday was USASOC's annual Organization Day, which dawned cool and rainy and perfect for discovering that Dad is also a water balloon fight ninja,

and kids don't mind wet clothes or sandy hot dogs or rainy dance parties.

And then we kicked off three days (including a lengthy Friday rehearsal) of interminably long dance performances. During which it was underscored that I was not cut out to be a dance Mom,

Finley dances to the beat of her own drum (sometimes literally),

dance in the south involves more sequins and larger bows than I ever thought imaginable,

and we have paid way too much for dance lessons. Which were supposed to be ballet-heavy and instead resulted in this

and this

and this.

Plus, Ford crashed curtain call

but at least couldn't be more "exciting" to give his sister flowers.

And now, after an entire weekend sacrificed on a very sparkly altar, we are seriously looking into jiu jitsu lessons.

At least there were also hilarious waterslide birthdays at which we discovered (to our eternal chagrin) what a wet bump-it looks like,

Ford chased dogs in his underwear, 

and the kids may or may not have joined a neighborhood gang. 

In someone else's neighborhood. 

The photo of the week, among stiff competitors, is definitely this one; of no one being able to control their elation at the arrival of Grandma. Ford's face notwithstanding. He always looks vaguely exasperated.