I can't think of a title.

Wow, what a weekend.

Saturday was the day the Cats and the Chiefs pulled off epic wins. I had faith in my wildcats, but to be completely honest, I had lost all faith in the Chiefs.

Carson also had his first ever sleepover. With a girl. It may have only been for a few hours while we finished watching the game at a friend's house, but nonetheless, his first sleepover.

Don't worry, we were responsible parents and made them sleep in separate pac-n-plays. He's not allowed to spoon just yet.

It took forever to get the little monster to go down. He just didn't want to stop partying, and I guess he somehow knew the Cats would pull off a smackdown of the Sooners.

It was such an exciting game to watch. And I'm so proud to be a Wildcat.

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Last Wednesday, I got home before the boys so I called the husband to see if he could stop and get something at the store on his way home. No answer. I called again ten minutes later. No answer. 

I don't even know why my husband has a cell phone. He seriously never answers my calls. Anyone else have this problem? Please say I'm not the only one.

Anyways, he gets home as I tell him he can fend for himself for dinner. No answer meant a missing ingredient for the new recipe I had planned to try. "I'm sorry, my phone was on silent."

So we go about our nightly routine...he fixes himself a PB&J (Yep, I'm that serious) and then looks me square in the eyes and says, "Honey, I have something to confess and I need to get it off my chest."

I really had no idea what he was going to say, but I had an idea it had something to do with him not answering his phone. I thought of a thousand silly things at that moment. Did he forget to pick up Carson and had to turn around? Did he get in trouble at work? Did he run into an old girlfriend? Hell, I didn't know.

It's funny how the priority order in my thought process has changed...Carson comes first, then how to provide for Carson, then marriage. I know, it's backwards, but that's a whole other post for discussion.

So, I look at him and don't say anything. I gave the look of, "Just tell me. What did you do?" He lets out a sigh and says he got a speeding ticket on the way home.

No big deal, right? Right. I wasn't mad at all. Shit happens. In fact, I was relieved. Relieved it wasn't any of the other things that popped into my head before he spilled the beans. I wasn't pleased that he got caught in a speed trap in which he knows better, but secretly, I was sort of happy he got a ticket.

If you know my husband, he's the world's best driver. He's only had a "few tickets in life" and "has never been in a wreck other than that one time." He is the smartest, most "efficient" driver on the road and everyone else is just stupid. Just ask him, he'll tell you.

There's just that little tidbit that always gets me, his road rage. He's more patient than me by a long shot, but when it comes to driving, he's aggressive and impatient. Even though we will most likely arrive at the same time, he makes getting there stressful because he gets so angry.

So, I'm hoping this ticket made him think about his driving habits (Babe, are you reading this?) And I am happy he decided to tell me. Even if it hurt his driver pride just a little.

For the record, Brian is a good driver. And he's safe. I'm always the passenger and he's always the driver. If his driving was that bad, he wouldn't have the privilege of driving around a hot blonde so often.

Clearly, I'm talking about Carson.