Cooties

I got an email yesterday reminding us that it was once again that time of year to cough up loads of cash and be snappy about it. Oh and a smile on your face would be appreciated, but not required.

NO...it wasn't from the IRS

It was really about signing the kids up for swim team, but isin't my way of saying it much more accurate?

thought so

And along with the email were attachments. Always attachments. Because it isin't painful enough to drain you of your cash, that could be spent on much more interesting things like say....a pedicure.

NO, we must make you fill out three forms in triplicate SWEARING

1)NOT to sue the swim team. Even if they do stupid stuff like feeding your kids moldy doughnuts (Kidding that really didn't happen. I'm just thinking off the top of my head here)

2) That your kids are their stated age because heaven knows we are all about trying to pass off an 11 year old as an 8 year old

3)To show up for our volunteer positions (per the attached)

You were starting to wonder what all this has to do with cooties weren't you? Yeah I know....It just takes me awhile to get to the point.

So anyway on attachment #3 was the list of who was doing what job, at what meet

And yours truly was on the list for things like timer and ribbons, etc.

But NEVER working the "concessions"

HEE

There is a reason for this.

Many moons ago, I worked concessions ONCE. A thankless job along the lines of working the line at Mickey D's. You get just as hot and greasy and tired, but at least we don't have to wear a uniform.

And one of the tantalizing and mouth watering items we have available on the menu is once hot, but now cold pizza from Domino's in two delish varieties, cheese and pepperoni.

As is typically the case, we always run out of cheese first. I don't care how many cheese we order. We still run out. It's karma or kismet or the natural order of the food universe. Or the fact that we have 200 kids congregated in one area. Take your pick.

So I am down to pepperoni pizza and a hot vat of yellow goop with chips, otherwise know as "Cheese Nachos!!!" as our protein offerings.

A mom (not a member of our club or swim team) comes sauntering up to the table with her two brats, er I mean delightful offspring and peers down her cosmetically enhanced nose at our offerings.

And then WHINES, I kid you NOT, cross my heart like a three year

"Your ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut of cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeese????!!! But we're vegetarians!!!What are we supposed to eaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat???!!!"

Now I'm thinking to myself, "Lady if I were a vegetarian, I'd make sure to pack my own food"

But do I say this, no I do not. Instead I point to the yellow goop and the fresh fruit we have and suggest nicely "perhaps this is an option?"

Her response?

"My family does not eat chemically processed food and are the fruits organic? Because I ONLY feed my family organic fruits and vegetables"

Now, I'm getting a bit miffed. I'm running a swim team concession stand here peeps, not a Whole Foods market.

But I hold my tongue and just smile at her, no words, just a smile.

THEN, oh THEN dear friends, you will not believe what she said next.

"WELL. humpf. Will you at LEAST pick the pepperoni off the pizza and blot the top with a napkin so it gets rid of the meat juice?"

I'm not sure what the expression on my face was, but I'm pretty sure it matched the temperment and tone of my response below.

"I'm sorry. But I didn't realize that being a vegetarian meant you couldn't touch meat. Only not eat meat. WHAT? Do you think the meat has cooties?"

And thus endeth my days as a concession stand mom.

SIGH. I guess this is a pretty clear indication as to why I'll NEVER, ever have a prayer for a career in the food service industry.

Spring break

it tis not what it used to be

A quick synopsis

My College Days (recited while the strains of Indiana's fight song echo in the background)

My mission? Seek the off the beaten path destinations. I was so not into the Florida "experiece"

Laramie, Wyoming?

Hell yeah!

Austin,Texas?

Yeehaw!

It wasn't Florida, (thank god) but they were college towns. And if I remember correctly there was some righteous two-stepping going on in both locales. Which made me out of breath, for more reasons than one. Hellllllllllllo...cowboy!

And good lawd almighty...did we have fun in those college towns during our spring breaks.

Which did NOT coincide with THEIR Spring Breaks. Which meant LOTS of available cute college boys from parts of the country that we would have little to no likelihood of ever seeing again.

ahem.

NOT that I ever misbehaved. No really. I was a good girl. STOP laughing. I really WAS. I just tended to get a little um..err unhibited during my spring breaks and I'm not saying for sure, but there MIGHT have been a teeninsy bit of dancing on bar tops going on. But my clothes were always on. THAT I know for certain.

So anywhoooo...upon our return from said forays, we (me and my band of sisters) managed to snag some righteous bouquets of roses. Lots and LOTS of roses. So many roses that one sister was prompted to ask by the sight of said waves and waves of floral affection

"Who died?"


PRESENT DAY

Sleep til 9AM

Wear PJ's all day

Maybe eat first meal around 12PM

(Hey wait a minute...this is sounding too familiar)

Oh yeah..wait a minute... this is not a rewind, fast forward doofus.

Yep. Okay...that would be my spring break present day.

this year we are staying (GASP) at home.

No laundry, no driving, no packing, no rules, no agenda.

We are being vegetables.

or to quote Pretty Woman

Edward Lewis: Veg out?
Vivian: Yeah. Be still like vegetables. Lay like broccoli.

Yep that's us...vegetables coming soon to a theater near you with a side of bernaise.
(Because I may be a mommy...but I can still bring some ZING to the thing)

And you know what else???

I have HOT orange roses in florist paper waiting for me in a pitcher in my kitchen.

Momma can still dance AND rock and roll!

HEH

I should just have

SUCKER tattooed across my forehead

Selling girl scout cookies? Sure I'll buy a case. I can't say no to my neighbor's girls and I used to be a girl scout myself. And I don't have girls. so I have to help continue the tradition..right? Right!

Boy Scout Shop? Sure I'll get the special boy scout album and stickers from K & Co. because BamBam with his big green eyes said "I can't wait to start recordng my path to Eagle with you. You'll show me how right?" And hey...it's scrappy stuff and it's my son. and we can do it together. Am I right? Right!

Sports Authority? Thumper is playing catcher AND pitching this year. And he needs some new mitts. Because he's grown like a proverbial weed since last year and nothing fits. I KNOW! His hands are so freaky loooooong!!!! Apparently you need different mitts for these two positions. IRL...I knew this. I just wasn't prepared for the reality check at the cash register. His daddy, the other sucker in this family ponied up the cash for the catcher's equipment. I got off easy. and I KNOW that's right!

Hmmmmm.....I seem to note a recurring theme here.

Sports...scouts. Scouts...sports.

If you don't hear from me in a few days...call my DH and cancel my Visa card.

Your other right

Overheard at the ball park last night.

A cell phone conversation between a mom and her 12 year old son.

Screen Saver Warning. I almost spit my Coke out laughing while listening to the conversation IRL.

Hello?
Hi sweetie.
What's for dinner?
Can you wait until I get home?
No?
Okay...well...grab a pot
Where?
Under the stove.
No not the oven, the stove.
okay...you see it?
The big tall pot.
on the right
No your other right.
Yes the big one.
Okay...fill that up two thirds with water.
No not half way....two thirds.
Okay, put that on the stove
No not the oven, the stove. The thing with the flame.
Right.
Okay...turn the flame to high.
Which way?
Turn the knob to your right.
No...your other right.
Okay put the lid on
Do you know where the fire extinguisher is?
Okay good.
Get the spaghetti sauce and pasta out of the pantry.
Where?
Spaghetti is on the top shelf on the right
Sauce is on the middle shelf on left
What?
No.
Pasta on right
Sauce on left.
It's a a big glass jar with a red label on it that says "Classico"
Got it?
No? OK..I'll wait
Got it?
No?


And here unfortunately is where the story ends.

I was laughing so hard, I had to walk away.

I put it down to comedic empathy.

This story is so ridiculously similar to any noon time call from my DH, it borders on supernatural

Hi Honey
What can you have for lunch?
Well there's leftovers on the middle shelf on the right
No...your OTHER right


Sometimes age really doesn't matter.

And as an aside...I really do appreciate that he calls me before he raids the fridge of my "planned" leftovers for dinner that night.

HEH

The Story of How........

BamBam and Thumper got their nicknames.

You've asked and since I'm all about sharing...............


It was a cold and windy night.

Strike that...it was a warm October afternoon when BamBam made his appearance on this planet. He came out a WHOPPING 9lbs and 23 inches long and TWO weeks early! God help me if he had been full term. I shudder to think what THAT delivery would have been like.

His 110% percentile weight and height markers continued into his toddler years and we found ourselves the proud caretakers of a cherubic child with blond curls and a mischievious smile. He also had a distinct propensity for running through the house, crashing into things, or crashing any available object together resulting in the noise BAMBAM.

BAMBAM became the background music of our daily lives. Plus the child LOOKED like BamBam from the Flinstones, so the nickname stuck.

As for Thumper, you all remember Thumper don't you? From Bambi? We'll here's the thing, I don't remember the movie, because I ran screaming from the theater after those horrible wicked hunters shot Bambi's MOTHER. I was so traumatized, I STILL can't watch that movie.

BUT I do remember Thumper because he made an endearing appearance BEFORE the fateful moment. So cute and sweet and adorable and that thumping sound he made with his foot er I mean paw. Well MY Thumper got the nickname because when he was learning to negotiate our rather steep steps, he would crawl up them and then proceed to sit on his hiney and thump his way to the bottom.

Over. And Over. And Over. And Over.

Thump, thump, thump. Bam, bam, bam. Thump Bam, Thump, Bam, Thump, Bam. Bamabama Thump.

If our early days of parenthood were a musical score, the genre would be Hip Hop.

Yep, Hip Hop till you drop.

Word.

Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking

into the future...............

Can we have a shoutout for the Steve Miller Band...WOOT!

What? I'm showing my age? HA....I'm just a multi cultural, multi generational lover of music. Yep that's me...uh huh...MCMG!

So this song pops in my head as I get ready to post this because

A) It's been a long freaking time since I posted

B) During that long freaking time, my kids have been tearing up the ole milestones of their youth.

Case in point...Thumper pitched his first game last night... EVER.

He's only 9, but my gawd can that kid bring the heat. He looked so poised and in control up there on the mound and absolutely smoked the competition. No one could believe he'd never pitched before or that he has never had formal lessons. Of course I just nodded my head and smiled, knowing my DH has been working with him in the back yard for the past 2 months every night.

I was also the back up official scorekeeper.... which was a freakin hoot. I know the basics but when they started throwing pass balls and stealing and people were running all over the bases forwards and backwards, I just kind of "creatively" recorded the scores.

This was preceded by BabmBabm crossing over to Boy Scouts and earning his Arrow of Light on Saturday. That kid was so proud and excited, it made it worth every single hair pulling, 100 email, 20 errand trips necessary to pull it off.

See....I wrote the ceremony and spent most of my time offstage directing the action.

(Being the achievement chair has it's benefits...like getting to make grown men dress up in Native American Headdress and wear face paint...HEH!)

His daddy was with him though and it was very cool watching from the wings.

So there you have it

What's ticking, ticking, ticking...in your future???