We took the kids bowling last Sunday. It was raining slush outside, and I blame the weather for forcing me into a bowling alley. BUT, we couldn’t think of anything else to do so an alley it was!

Of course, before we went bowling, we had to get ready and getting ready in our house runs with about as much efficiency as a government agency...on a Friday afternoon...before a holiday...with full, unrestricted internet access.

After an hour of telling Heidi to, “Put your clothes back on and turn OFF THAT TV,” we arrived at the bowling alley. The sky had stopped dumping ice-sludge by then so we took our time getting out of the car. Because getting out of the car at an even slower pace than getting ready to get into the car is our favorite. This is because our kids like to dawdle about the backseat for as long as we'll let them.

So once we parked, we unbuckled the kids from their car seats, making sure to grab hold of them the second they were unstrapped. It’s important to act quickly and decisively in these situations, otherwise the girls will wedge themselves between the back and front seats where we can’t get grab them. There, beyond our reach, they can peruse through all the random crap strewn across the truck’s floor at their leisure. Depending on the day, and depending on the “find,” they might rise from the bowels of the backseat, thrust their arms into the air, holding buried treasure in their hands. A "good find" can be anything from an old lollipop wrapped in hair to a filth encrusted Lego. On the other hand, if they find a “ruined treasure” like a ripped, children's menu from Pizza Hut, moaning and crying can be heard from 10 parking spaces away.

Before we went inside, we took a moment to admire the bowling alley in all its architectural splendor. The building had a non-descript facade built out of dark brown bricks and rusted aluminum siding. Bowling alley architecture. It's like I always say...If you want to see good architecture, you should look at bowling allies. I always say that. I also always say that bowling allies designed and built in the late sixties should be a reminder to us all that drugs are bad for the brain. At least the thinking part.

Once inside, we rented some bowling shoes and picked out a lane. Although, I’m not much of a bowler it was fun to watch the kids throw their bowling balls down the lane. With every throw, they’d jump up and down squealing. Just plain joy. It made bowling in a place with carpeted walls and built-in ashtrays worth it. Heidi's finally old enough to do things and I'm looking forward to more of these family outings. Minus the rental shoes.

Midway through bowling, Lexi asked if she could sleep over at a friend's house that night. Yes, she could. We told her that she could text her friend from our phone and let her know that she could sleep over. We bowled a little longer and then decided we should get going before all the soda worked its way into Whitney and Heidi’s bladders. I'm a good sport to a point, however, bowling alley bathrooms extend beyond that point.

When we got home I pulled off everyone’s bowling socks and made dinner. Then the kids went to sleep and I sat down to catch up on email and my Twitter and Facebook. That’s when I saw this:

Another way of putting it: Hey I am a slutty whore who can sleep over. I am a slutty whore who posts whorish updates on her Facebook wall while she's bowling. Here’s the other thing: Do you see the comments? No one questioned my update! They were all...Nothing to see here! Just another inappropriate update by Meredith!

Turns out, that earlier in the day, Ben needed to verify my Facebook account with a mobile number so he could make Facebook connect with...oh my gosh this part of the story is so boring! Just know Facebook required a mobile phone number to verify the account. Ben in-puted our mobile number and Facebook sent a text so Ben could reply. When Lexi went to text her friend, she inadvertently replied to the text from Facebook, which in turn updated my Facebook status.

The problem here is that I don't know where to disable the default setting in Facebook, which gives me the option to update my status via texts from my phone. A phone I struggle to use. Because it's a stupid phone. Also, the texting feature isn't user friendly and I'm worried I'll accidentally text an unintended status update to my Facebook account. I guess what I’m trying to say here is, that if you're one of my Facebook friends, you might be seeing a lot more status updates asking Ben to pick-up milk on the way home.

Meredith blogs over at BuenoBaby; a candid, raw look at a life, a marriage and a mommy-hood. She lives in Wisconsin with her husband and three daughters. She thinks she might have a cat.