Oh, Virginia!

Did you know next Tuesday is Fat Tuesday?
Yep. It's Mardi Gras season, and that means that I have custody of my fleeing parents for the weekend. When I was a kid, we loved Mardi Gras. We would spend all day downtown in Mobile (where it all started in our country, not in New Orleans, thankyouverymuch!) with baked potatoes wrapped in foil in our pockets to keep our hands warm between parades. Then we'd spend days eating moon pies and pretending to throw our beads off make believe floats. One year we even loaded up all our beads onto the arms of the ceiling fan and turned it on high so that we could practice catching them in chaos mode. It was great. We even got an extra day out of school for it.
Now, though, it's not as family friendly as it once was, and my Mom and Dad pack up and head out of town. It seems they prefer smart mouthed grandkids to dodging drunks in their old age. And my kids are pretty smart mouthed, don't let their innocent faces fool you. Last time my parents were here, it was because I was having Peter surgically removed. One day my mom melted a plastic bowl on the stove top, and my dad exclaimed, "Oh, Virginia!" in the way that only he could up until then. But Alex is a mimicker of bad adult behavior on every level he can muster, and "Oh Virginia!" is now one of his favorite lines. He delivers it with such joy and mockery, and he sounds just like a miniaturized version of his Grandpa. It makes me love him that much more.
So, into town the old folks will be rolling in a few short hours. The house is a mess. There is clean laundry all over my bedroom waiting to be put on hangers or into drawers. I'm nearly out of laundry detergent, and last night I realized I was out of dish soap after loading the dishwasher. So, do I go to the store or tend to the laundry? The truth? I'll probably skip both. I wouldn't want my parents to think they had raised an organized, responsible daughter. I need them believing that I could use all the help I can get. That way, just maybe, they'll leave me lots of money one day in consideration of all the housekeeping help I need.
Instead of stressing over the visit, I think I'll use my few remaining hours until they arrive to plan our meals for the next few days. my mom is on a low carb diet, so I have to fuss over her. And my dad is picky. Once I fed him some truly horrific imitation crab cakes, and I thought he might boo me out of my own kitchen. I offer to make them for him every time I see him now just to relish in the memory. He also has no love for our traditional (easy, cheap) Sunday lunch consisting of Kraft dinner (because you can't actually call that stuff mac and cheese) and hot dogs cut up in a can of baked beans. I also have to make sure this is on the menu each time they visit, even though we've secretly retired the tradition now that Ryan is never home for Sunday lunch, and it was his favorite.
This morning on the way to take the kids to school, Kylie diplomatically suggested that I make a "nice dinner" for Grandma and Grandpa. I told her I was planning mac and cheese and beanie weenies. She told me in no uncertain terms that Grandpa really hates that meal. She suggested steak.
Looks like it'll be crab cakes tonight! I hope they're low carb enough.