First of all can I just say that TOM is visiting (totally still love that acronym) and he has sucked the very life right on out of me. I'm hoping this click click clicking I'm doing with my fingers right now is going to be the single most strenuous thing I ever have to do for the rest of my life. My head knows this lackluster, blah, I don't wanna, attitude has to be an extra special gift from my good buddy TOM this month, but seriously, if I could just sit here forever and a day, I'd be one happy camper.
My optimistic husband... (not)
So... Brad and I are watching True Blood last night. (we got the series a million years ago but never got around to watching it until I finally got around to starting the books which I passed on to him and now we're both enjoying the books and have enjoyed the first several episodes of...) At some point we hear some noises outside. It sounded like fire crackers - like you hear all night long on the 4th of July - but it was odd, of course, since it was the 6th of March. But... eh. We've got 300ish kids in our neighborhood and who knows what someone might be doing at any given time. We made note of it and kept watching. A little while later we see flashing lights reflected on the TV and get up to
Brad: Oh great. That was gunfire. (not that it isn't possible, but we live in la la land suburbia where the only gunfire we hear is when they do scheduled deer population reducing hunts in the state park behind our house). Had to have been at Gene's house. (um seriously? Gene's house? I haven't seen hide nor hair of this neighbor two houses down from us in... well all winter).
Me: The slow and silent ambulance and firetruck have tapped into your super powers so you know those pops we heard earlier was gunfire at Gene's house? Okay, I'll bite, how do you get from A to B in this story?
Brad: Jamie (another neighbor) told me there have been some domestic disputes between Gene and his wife who left a while ago.
Me: Don't you think a cop might show up if they thought there was gunfire?
(meanwhile the 2 pieces of emergency equipment make their way to the end of the cul-de-sac and slowly turn around and come back towards our house, stopping across the street from Gene's house.)
Brad: See! I told you so! They're going to Gene's house. I knew it.
Me: uh... I'm thinking they're going to the house across the street - you know, since that's where they parked. I'm pretty sure they'd stay on the correct side of the road and pull up right in front of Gene's if that's where they were going. And I'm thinking it's not a serious emergency as they're not speeding or even sort of hurrying. And I really think the absence of a cop car make the gunfire choice really unlikely.
Brad: No, watch them, they're getting out of the trucks - they're going to go into Gene's.
They went into Tony's house across the street. Where they'd parked. They left about 15 minutes later. I patted Brad's arm and drug him back to the TV.
Spring sports insanity
I completely get I'm not alone here and I also know I've already whined about this before - but that in no way means I'm not going to whine about it again. All the initial sports emails have started to circulate and it got me a little worried so I wrote down what our sports weeks are going to look like when everything is in full swing and holy fucking shit. In each seven day period, in addition to the grownups' full time jobs and the kids' school and homework we have.
1 soccer practice - 1 hour each
1 flag football practice - 1 hour each
2 baseball practices - 1 hour each
2 batting cage practices - 1 hour each
1 soccer game - 1 1/2 hours each
1 flag football game - 1 hour each
4 baseball games - 2 1/2-3 hours each
That's 19.5 hours of stuff. And that doesn't include any driving time to and from those things or the waiting time that inevitably happens because an earlier game went long. We've done four things before, but we've never done two
It's freakin' pouring on Sunday!!! Like seriously.. it's time to build a new ark. But our first little league practices for both of them (at the same time thank you Jesus!!) is scheduled for 4:30. Will they cancel it thinking the dogs and cats falling from the sky might hit one of the cute little kids up side their heads? Nope - we'll still get together and talk and pass out uniforms yadda, yadda, yadda. All four of us go so I can go with Ted and Brad can go with Jack. We get there and the three boys fly out of the car while I am putting on my rain coat and readying my umbrella. I tell them I'll be right behind them and they leave. And then a minute or two later... I hear it. The dreaded sound. The car's being locked with the remote. Brad's forgotten I'm in the car. (We have a very strong relationship) I get myself ready and debate what to do. I know good and well, the second I open the car door the alarm is going to go off and everyone in the park (oh did I mention that of all the baseball organizations in our league - only ours is at the park - the rest of them were smart enough to leave the hurricane to mother nature). I call him, does he answer? Nope. I think the thunderous rain probably drowned (lol) out the sound of his phone. So... out I go to a cacophony of horns and beeps and the strobe of flashing lights. It's all very exciting!! Is all this fuss about little 'ol me? You shouldn't have.... seriously!
I just love love love to have lots of people looking at me (NOT!!!) Is one of those people my husband? Nope. How about one of my cute little kids? Not a chance. Where are they, you might ask. Who the fuck knows, I might answer. I have to get out of and walk away from the flashing and beeping car. People are pointing and laughing - man she sure is an idiot - how can she just walk away from all that racket. Poor, pitiful thing, must not know how to turn all those lights and noises off. Should we tell her to just hit the button on the remote, or should we just keep laughing??? I'm searching high and low for a random member of my family. Hell, by this point I'd settle for a mechanic who could disable the damn thing. Finally I spot Brad happily reconnecting with his fellow coaches from last year. HEY BRADFORD!!!!! (I didn't say - 'you fucking idiot') THAT'S YOUR (God forsaken fucking) VAN!!! YOU (fucking) LOCKED ME IN THE (fucking) CAR!! Again - did I mention loving being the center of attention? Jackson looks up at him - I told you that sounded like your car, dad!