It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

T-minus 11 days.  That's what everyone tells us anyways.  In 11 days our three year old will turn four and peace will reign in our home.  Not to be cynical, but I'll believe it when I see it...

Take this past weekend for instance.  Rather than sit at home while Jason went on one of his boys' trips, Charlie and I road-tripped to Virginia Beach to spend the weekend with the Barletts.  Having done the same thing last year and had an easy drive and fabulous weekend, I was expecting bliss.  I was wrong.

The drive itself was fine with the rain letting up at South of the Border, and the friends were a delight, but the three year old was just too much.  No, he didn't break any laws (or even any furniture) and his head didn't spin around or anything, he was just unendingly defiant from Friday afternoon through Sunday morning. 

That's right -- Sunday morning.  His behavior, the endless corrections and the repeated time-outs got so exhausting that we left a whole day early.  It finally came down to the realization that if I were Tony, Lea, Lakely and Cashton, I wouldn't want to spend my Sunday afternoon dealing with Charlie's frequent assertions of, "I"m mad" and my subsequent reactions.

So at 11:00 I made the call and by 11:30 we were on the road.  I have all sorts of justifications for his behavior:  he'd been sick last week, he missed his Daddy, he's not around anyone other than me 24-7, blah, blah, blah.  Bottom line?  He decided to be a brat and forced my hand.

To make sure he got the point, the 6 1/2 hour ride home was devoid of movies and/or kids' music.  After passing our third racetrack (who knew I-95 was a NASCAR enthusiasts Road to Hana?) we did find the race on the radio, though.  Charlie never could understand why they weren't talking at all about how Daddy was doing, though he is fairly sure he heard Jason clapping at one point...

Lest I portray the weekend as a complete failure, I should point out that the homemade pizzas on Friday evening were delicious, the Stroller Strides class on Saturday morning was a blast (though I still struggle going up and down stairs -- lunges are evil!), Lea's and my girls' night out was fabulous and the joy of both Charlie and I getting to spend quality time with some of our very best friends was amazing.  I am just so grateful for patient, gracious friends and the miracle of squeezing so much laughter, life-updates and relaxation between tantrums. 

You really can't underestimate the gift of genuine friendship, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat...though I might come up with some more effective consequences in advance.  Besides, by next year we'll only remember the pom-poms, wine and bunnies anyway (assuming of course my glutes stop burning by then...)