No Sleep 'Til... Bowling Green?

It wasn't bad enough that we were eating lunch at 3pm at a roadside Ruby Tuesday, dressed and smelling like people who had escaped from a mental institution and gone on the lam.

In the bathroom, Ford refused to take off his new gloves (purchased by Natalie for Saturday night's suddenly-chilly temps) and somehow managed to pee on both one of his hands and the back of his shorts. Then he locked himself in the stall by accident and proceeded to throw a fit. (In a moment of not-selfless parenting, I let Finley be the one to crawl under the stall door and rescue him.) After he flatly refused to put on his shorts, I called Seth, threw a nude-from-the-waist-down and crying Ford at him, and sprinted with Finley across the parking lot to the camper for new shorts.

When I got back to the table, the waitress there strongly recommended the 8 oz. wine pour. It was an excellent suggestion.

(Incidentally, we were at Ruby Tuesday in the first place because Finley had had a minor meltdown begging for steak. All of which she ate. Ford, on the other hand, ate this carb-heavy, completely tan-colored meal.)

The kid drama was all our fault, really. After a wild week of Chuck E. Cheese parties

and the thrilling arrival of Halloween costumes;

we had, in true Nieman fashion, gone all in a harebrained road trip (complete with camper) to see the Army-Western Kentucky game with friends.

It was absolutely worth the (incredibly long) drive, despite the Army loss to the oddly-named Hilltoppers.

In addition to a road trip on which we discovered train museums and Famous Ice Cream

the kids got to camp with their best friends,

see their beloved (now commissioned) "Army team,"

and act like real hooligans at the tailgate.

Yes, that does appear to be Finley learning to take a shot from a miniature Solo cup. I'm hopeful that it was juice, but you can never be too sure with Finley.

There was also this moment

and this hilarious late night death march. Bowling Green was responsible for no shortage of memorable times.

Thanks to the world's dumbest federal holiday we spent a final, lovely night on the shores of Douglas Lake

 which turned out to be beautiful

 and to have either very discerning or not at all hungry fish.

Waterlogged breakfast in PJs was just bonus.

All in all, it was an action-packed and unforgettable weekend, with enough late nights that Ruby Tuesday tantrums were completely understandable. Although no less mortifying.

Couple funny ones from this week are this bizarre pose F+F struck while hiking around the campground in their PJs/ leopard print dress (why not?)

and this funny one from Maggie and Ally's birthday party, in which- if you look closely enough- you'll note a very intent father-son duo.

Chili and Bounce Houses

It was a pretty uneventful week, for the Niemans at least. Seth won the work chili cookoff as per usual (after Jayne's win last year, this is starting to look suspicious...)

although, with highs over 100 it seemed a little ridiculous to be celebrating fall. 

Not that anyone is complaining about a longer pool season. 

Which, on Wednesday night, unexpectedly ended with a jubilant but completely unclothed front porch dance-off.

The 600 lb. bounce house was procured and eventually unloaded and set up just in time for it to rain the night before T3's wild Nerf gun birthday party,

which survived the weather and was a total blast for all involved. 

Pay no attention to Ford's weird blue head scarf, which he was certain made him look like a bad guy and which actually made him look like little blue riding hood.

Naturally, the party devolved

and eventually resulted in injury

which also led to Ford's having discovered that blood gets you lots of attention.

Also naturally, Finley and Mikayla jumped in the pool with their clothes on.

It was a Saturday for the record books, which ended as such Saturdays do,

and gave way to a much-needed PJ-clad "life admin" Sunday.
Not that these "helpers" were conducive to much actual cleaning.

We wrapped up our weekend with a trip to Southern Pines to see friends and hang out with miniature horses

and swing by a decent grocery store. (Pictured is Ford and the only vegetable we can get him to eat, at least pretending to be excited about them.)

Oh, and we verified that Finley and her Mom feel the same way about birds.

Update: the temperature fell below 80 and I capitulated. Bring it on, fall.

Oktoberfesting in the Dead of Summer.

Saturday morning Seth and I slept in a little bit, since F+F are getting big enough to- sometimes- be left to their own devices. They made crashing noises (and apparently helped themselves to ice cream, because whoever designed bottom drawer freezers definitely did not have kids) for about a half hour before I got up and discovered this funny scene on an already 85 degree day:

Like everybody else in this part of the world, F+F are ready for fall. And the weather is not cooperating.

I had to make a brutal down-and-back to Fort Benning for work this week, so Dad Night commenced, and I got hilarious photos like these. No kidding there was also a round two of ice cream (Seth said "the first one was a sno cone!" as if that made perfect sense, and I now have no question as to why he's the favorite parent.)

We were triple booked on Saturday, with a birthday party (no pictures because we were too busy sweating to actual death) and a baby shower, to which Finley was beside-herself-thrilled to be invited

followed by the Fort Bragg Oktoberfest, put on by the German Army liason team. The beer and food are allegedly flown in from Munich, but Natalie and I were just there for the kid photos:

OK, we also enjoyed the beer. But  the last minute trip to the costume store paid off big time (and we couldn't stop reflecting on how lucky these Army kids are to have friends-who-are-family.)

This might be my favorite photo of Handsome Ford and T3, ever. They were very proud of those lederhosen,

which- incredibly- survived more than an hour in the bounce house.

For Sunday Funday we finally gave into the fact that "fall" is a misnomer, and fled for the pool

which yielded this apropos photographic commentary on the Nieman interpretation of a "lazy weekend at home." 

Never a dull moment!