The Chronicles of Munchkin Land

I lost Klout this weekend. Because I wasn’t doing much tweeting. Except for the occasional funny “overheard” tweet like, “There’s nothing more that I want to do than eat cake off Justin Beiber’s face.”

Instead, here’s what I did this weekend:

I drove seven hours with two boys by myself. We only stopped once; this is a new record. They jumped on the trampoline while I caught up with Dee. We ate spaghetti and everyone laughed while BigBrother pronounced it as skahbetti; he didn’t know why they were laughing as no one corrected him (why would they?), so he laughed too. I panicked that something was wrong with LittleBrother — like some rare form of kindey-disease induced diabetes — as he went to the bathroom every fifteen minutes our first evening there; he was just checking out the remodeled bathroom. He is a bathroom tourist. I had my first Salted Caramel hickamajig from Starbucks; new favorite! I stayed up too late talking with Dee trying to find bad television to watch and snort-laughing about silly things.

And that was Friday.

I woke up far too early thanks to the two little dudes in my bedroom. I fed my sons. I ate a bagel and played on Facebook. I showered and made myself look presentable. We all ate lunch. I moved car seats from my car to Dee’s and cut my hand in the process. I went to Munchkin’s soccer game. I took pictures. I cried. I watched children jump on the trampoline some more. I went for sushi with Dee and Munchkin. (More on that tomorrow!) I found gold coins for the boys’ birthday party at Party City, where Munchkin tried on all of the sunglasses. We stopped at the grocery store to buy snacks for the last soccer game the next day. I endured an epic meltdown from LittleBrother because no one wanted to watch a movie that the other three kids didn’t want to watch; I eventually calmed him down, but all of the kids ditched Rio in less than 20 minutes. Dee and I let all four kids help make strawberry cupcakes; I think we deserve some kind of reward. I got the kids to fall asleep quite easily that night as they were exhausted. I went to Chickie & Pete’s with Dee; it was packed, so we ate our crab fries standing in a corner. Then we went to Target and I bought shiny shoes in kids’ sizes because I have crazy small feet. I stayed up too late again and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

And that was Saturday.

I got to sleep until 7:30 and woke up to my sons sleeping in weird positions. I got them fed and gave them baths in the newly remodeled tub — which they thought was fantastic! I cried in the shower and got myself ready again. I helped Denise put soccer balls, flags and sprinkles on the cupcakes. I endured another epic meltdown from LittleBrother because he wanted to zip his sweatshirt his own damn self. I cried again. We went to the soccer game where my sons were mad because I wouldn’t let them play in the dirt — as we would be getting home late and not have time for a bath before bed so they weren’t gross before school this morning. Munchkin played a great game. And I cried again. We had lunch back at Dee’s house and the kids jumped on the trampoline with Dee watching while I packed the car. I cried again. I sat with Munchkin for a little bit before we left. I took some photos of the kids and Dee took one of me and the Munchkin — which I hate because my face is swollen due to salt intake this weekend. We said our goodbyes. We got in the car, got gas, money for tolls and bagels and hit the road. I cried again. The boys slept, woke up, argued, did a quick pit stop, complained when Burger King at the Sideling Hill rest stop on the turnpike forgot to put our water in the bags and fell back to sleep. I cried again. We arrived home 7 hours after leaving. My husband helped me get the kids inside, watered, bathroomed, pajamaed and in bed. I smelled the roses that my husband got for me, had a glass of wine, cried on my husband, briefly blogged as it’s NaBloPoMo, and fell asleep.

And that was Sunday.

So, Klout, you’ll just have to excuse me for not making time to, as your note says, “share more content and engage with my network.” Those in “my network” knew that I was traveling to see my daughter were engaged with me. They liked photos on Facebook. They sent kind messages on Facebook and twitter, even though they knew I couldn’t and/or wouldn’t take the time to reply to each and every note. They sent emails reminding me to be gentle with myself. They covered me with love that I so desperately need when I am enduring a visit. They have sent me more messages this morning offering love, understanding, compassion and offers to meet for coffee.

So while I wasn’t retweeting their tweets or sharing their links or asking questions or creating conversation, “my network” was doing what a network should be doing: caring for me in my hour(s) of need. And quite honestly, I was doing what I should be doing as well: engaging with my family when I am lucky enough to be in their combined midst. That, combined with the love of “my network,” (who, by the way, I like to just call “my friends”) is worth far more than any of the “perks” that “your network” is supposed to offer me if I use twitter, Facebook and other social media outlets in the way that you deem acceptable.

My network — my friends — deserve more than a $10 Subway gift card or the smallest bottle of Axe hair gel (which my husband has deemed awful, by the way) for the love that they showered me with this weekend. So take your network and shove it, Klout.

My network is more valuable to me than your score ever will be.

(Before anyone accuses me of not doing enough of x, y or z on this visit, please note that not everything was included in this post. Thank you!)