What A Waste

Today was apparently the day for me to be stuck behind slow-moving drivers.  Constantly and never-endingly and nerve-grindingly.

I admit freely that my patience is not what it could be.  My eldest, at the age of about 5, actually prayed out loud on one occasion for God to give me more of it.  Out of the mouths of babes, indeed.  People who drive slowly in front of me on two-lane roads with no passing lanes make me particularly nuts.  (Hi, Grandpa!  Yes, I'm channeling you.  Hope you're getting a good laugh out of it from up there.  At least the worst thing my kids have learned from my commentary on other drivers in recent memory is the epithet "flaming moron," which, although far from ideal, does still beat what you used to call the drivers of the trucks you got stuck behind back in the day.)

Anyway, the weather today was clear and sunny.  Roads were free of construction.  No deer in sight.  And yet this guy I was following on the way to pick up Petunia after school was driving between 5 and 15 MPH below the speed limit the whole way.  If he'd been old, I would have contained myself, I swear.  But he wasn't.  And the real kicker?  He was driving a red Corvette!

It's just not right, I tell ya.

He Did It!

Thing Two's last baseball game of the season was tonight.  Although he was hitting well for most of the season, for the last few games he has been the king of strikeouts.  Not sure what happened, but all of a sudden something changed with his swing and he hasn't been able to buy a hit to save his life.  He's been down about it, and it's been tough.  We really didn't want him to end the season in a slump and have that to remember his first real baseball season by for the next ten months.

Tonight, he batted three times.  The first time, blessedly, he got a hit.  A dribbling worm-burner, but enough to get him to first, and he subsequently came in for a run.  The second time, he struck out.  It all came down to the third at-bat for him.

Which, as my old friend Murphy's Law would have it, came in the bottom of the last inning with his team down one run and two outs already on the books.  NOT, to put it mildly, a situation in which you want your kid to be batting if he's in a slump and it's the last game of the season.  Another strikeout would mean game over and a loss.  We cringed in expectation through the first two strikes.

But the third time he swung, he hit a whopper of a line drive that brought in two runs, the second of which won the game for his team!  You've rarely seen a happier boy.  Or happier parents!

I'm Not Being Paid For This Post

However, Coolibar, if you see this, I'm definitely willing to discuss becoming a spokesperson.

If you ever see me on the sidelines at one of my kids' many (many) soccer or baseball games, you'll be able to pick me out immediately.  I'll be the tall woman wearing the big hat.  I have a collection of a good half-dozen broad-brimmed hats, all SPF50 and mostly from Coolibar.  I also have a lovely collection of SPF50 long-sleeved and short-sleeved T-shirts, which I wear (along with one of said hats) while watching my kids play sports, gardening, cleaning the pool, walking the dog, or doing pretty much anything else outside during daylight hours.

And before you ask, I'm not a Goth or neo-vampire sort by any means.  This is just the sad consequence of having genetically Irish skin that spent the better part of its childhood years outside in the tropics before the invention of effective sunscreens!  My dermatologist has informed me that I've had my full lifetime's sun exposure and then some already and that I should stay out of the sun as much as possible going forward.  This not being even remotely practical given my life situation, I stay out of the sun as much as I can and wear some combination of these UV-protecting items when I can't.  And go through sunblock by the gallon, too.

Many of the older SPF50 fabrics are very heavy, which is tough when it's already hot outside.  You melt like a popsicle within minutes of going outside wearing those.  But I saw something new on the Coolibar website a while back, and suggested to Himself that the kids get me one for Mother's Day.    It's a very lightweight long-sleeved sun wrap, with sun protection that supposedly lasts even through a lifetime of washes.  I wore mine through my entire recent vacation to North Carolina, LOVED it, and ordered two more in different colors from my smartphone during the drive home!  The white one now lives permanently in my car, so I always have it with me if I need it (along with a big tube of sunblock and my favorite sunhat.)

Like I said, I'm not being paid to put this out there and have no ties to this company whatsoever (except for the large amount of money that I spend there)...I just really love this wrap and thought I'd share in case anyone else has the same kind of need to avoid sun that I do!  Please consider this a public service announcement.

      

Representing For The Old Folks

Last night, I tested for my Blue belt in Taekwondo.  It's the sixth belt from the bottom in the hierarchy at this dojo, somewhere in the upper middle in overall rank.

For the last three of my belt tests, I've been the only person over the age of 20 testing!  (Note that I am looking 40 squarely in the eyeballs.)  There are a number of other adults in the program, but their testing schedules are somehow thoroughly out of sync with mine, and last night's test group was unusually small.  There were only 7 of us: me, a 17 year-old girl, and five kids ranging in age from about 8 to 11.  To put it mildly, I stuck out a bit.

I know the 17 year-old well.  She attends many of the same classes that I do, and we happen to have the same first name, even spelled the same uncommon way.  She is a phenomenal athlete, energetic, beautiful and blessed with everything but belief in her own abilities.  (Oh, how I remember being 17...)  She's a belt level ahead of me, but we had to do many of the same exercises during the test.

No matter how hard I try, there are some things that she can do effortlessly that will just not happen with this body of mine.  She has youth and energy and non-creaky joints on her side.  But the thing is, we weren't in competition.  We were side by side, both doing the best we could.  Do my backward rolls or front breakfalls or jump spin kicks look quite as good as hers do?  No.  But as long as they're the best that I can do, that doesn't matter.

I went into last night's test with some serious misgivings.  In addition to my usual catalog of aches and pains, I'd tripped at a picnic the day before and gashed the area between my right thumb and index finger on the corner of a deck railing while trying to catch myself, also tweaking my 'good' knee in the process.  Then, at class yesterday morning, I discovered that the bandage I had on my hand would not stay on through all the twisting hand motions that go with the territory.  I went into the test last night wearing two knee braces (rather than the usual one) and with my palm wrapped in three layers of medical tape to keep the &%*$# bandage on.  I texted Himself right before going in to tell him that I had no lofty goals for this particular test: I just wanted to get through it without either embarrassing or hurting myself and come out with a new belt.

As it happened, it actually went pretty well.  The test was tough but fair.  Could I have done better?  Sure.  Always.  But I did a lot better than I thought I was going to do, all things considered.  Especially since the instructor assigned to partner with me for the test happens to be one of the most demanding.  (Can anyone say "Murphy's Law??)  By the end of the test, I was exhausted, red-faced, and absolutely dripping in sweat.  But also still focused and upright, and I handled everything they threw at me.

I have my new belt.

I worked hard for it.

But the best part?  These tests are open to the public, and we had a decent crowd last night.  In the hallway afterward, a woman came up to me and said that I'd inspired her to try taking the classes as well.  That she thought it was cool to see someone her own age up in front of everyone with all those kids.  That if I can do it, there's no reason why she can't.  And there isn't.  I hope to see her in class soon.

Right after that conversation, I walked my tired self down to the locker room, did a quick Superman-style change from taekwondo gi to business casual attire and makeup, and drove like a bat out of hell across town to take part in a school board meeting!  A multi-hat evening for this Mama...

Amen

Thank you to all who put their own safety in jeopardy every day for the benefit of the rest of us.  We are in your debt, indeed.

What A Relief

Thing One's travel soccer team held their annual tryouts a few weeks ago.  It took approximately forever for them to get back to us with the results, but we finally received the team assignments this past week.  As background, the A team is composed of the "best" players, and the B and C teams are more development-focused teams. In general, this coming year's B players are the same boys from last year's B squad, and the C team boys are the newcomers to the club without much experience playing at this level.  We've been told that Thing One will be on the B team again.

According to Himself (who played soccer for years) Thing One got much better this past year, and also played really well at the tryouts.  One of the coaches we know who was doing the rankings came up to us afterward to say that he was likely going to end up on the 'bubble' between A and B, and to ask if we had a preference regarding where to put him if that was the case.  

It was a tough call.  Obviously, you want your kid on A if he or she is good enough for A, but this particular A team is seriously dysfunctional (mostly a massive parent ego/jerk problem) and on A teams, playing time is determined by merit, not an equal-time principle.  So, if you aren't one of the best players on an A team, you ride the bench a lot.  At this time, he'd never be a starter on the A team, so we finally decided to have him go B if there was any question.

On B, he's one of the best players.  He'll get good playing time and keep developing. And we won't have to deal with the crazy political nonsense and infighting that plagued the A team for the entirety of last year.  Win-win!!

Struggling

I really don't like holiday weekends, mainly because they are holidays for everyone but me: somebody still has to cook, clean up, make sure there is food in the house, do laundry, and referee kid squabbles.  And there is more of all of the above going on than usual during holiday weekends precisely because everyone is home!  The fundamental caregiver/homemaker responsibilities don't magically disappear just because the homemaker would like to have a day or two off as well.  In addition to all the regular stuff, kids still have birthday parties to attend: the gifts don't magically appear or wrap themselves, and Cinderella's coach doesn't appear to chauffeur them to these events.  There is a family barbecue tomorrow: our contribution for that event won't prepare itself either.  I'll be at the grocery store picking up ingredients for that later this afternoon.  

My idea of an ideal vacation, at this stage of my life?  A day off.  By myself.  Just one (no sense being greedy!) but really off.  Perhaps outside on a beautiful day, in a shaded swing with a book.  With nobody requiring feeding or cleaning up after or zipper help or walking or shoe-tying or taking somewhere or otherwise entertaining.  No household chores, either.

And blessed quiet, for Pete's sake.  I'm a sociable enough being, but since childhood I have always retreated periodically to a quiet place to recharge my batteries when I've had enough of people and/or ruckus.  Try doing that in a house with three children and a needy dog: somebody is always yelling through the door (or scratching at it, in the case of the dog) even when I'm in the bathroom!!

Bigtime first world problem.  I know.  But weekends in general and holiday weekends in particular are actually more stressful for me than weekdays, and I think there's something wrong with this picture.

One cranky Mama signing out, and wishing you all a better attitude and greater appreciation of your blessings than I am able to muster right now!  


ETA: In all fairness, I should note that when I wrote this, Himself was at a park with Thing Two for another birthday party and had the other two kids with him as well, so I could go grocery shopping in peace.  He's a keeper...don't mean to make him out as anything less here.