Yesterday at school, while I was teaching PE, one of my kids’ parents walked in and said, “Listen. We had your blog pulled up at the office this morning, and everyone was trying to convince me that those snapshots of the messy houses were really your house.”
Y’all! I had no words!
So I told her, “Yeah. I stole those pictures from the Google. And I Googled the word ‘Hoarder’ under ‘Images’ to find them. And that’s what I came up with.”
She replied, “Oh! Good! Because I’ve never been to your house before, but I love you to pieces, and I can’t imagine that you’d live like that. I need to go smack a co-worker of mine, because I seriously wanted to hire some help for you and pay for a maid service myself.”
Um… YES! THOSE ARE REAL SNAPSHOTS OF MY HOME!!! PLEASE HIRE SOMEONE TO COME OVER AND CLEAN FOR ME!!! I WOULD LIKE TO SHOUT “YES” TO A MAID SERVICE!
I can never hold my head up high in polite society again.
Anyway, I thought that I needed to clarify that YEP! My house isn’t as clean as it used to be, but the pictures from Tuesday evening’s post were not actually taken at my home.
Praise the Lord.
And this gal’s two daughters might both be flunking PE this quarter.
Also, our friend Abe told me to go right on ahead and hoard cats, because some people appreciate a good compressed, decaying, gelatinizing cat carcass casserole.
The thing with guys is that their verbal descriptions go to places that a girl would never venture… places where no man has ever gone before with adjectives.
However, I might have misunderstood Abe and thought he said RATS.
(I hope I don’t need to set people straight on whether this is my house or not tomorrow.)
(But please. If the Holy Spirit moves upon you and encourages you to just hire a cleaning service for me, go ahead and act upon it.)
(And if you feel led to make us a casserole of some kind — which does not involve gelatin or Siamese or the word decaying — well, we’ll write you a thank-you card.)
Last night, I loaded up my boys, and we went to watch Cousin L play some soccer. Girlfriend can run and kick and PLAY THE GAME! We haven’t gotten to see her play yet this season, because of things called RAINED OUT and SNOWED OUT and WE HAVE PIANO LESSONS THEN.
Before the game, the boy kicked the ball around with Thing 2. Thing 2 has some powerful emotions about soccer, which all involve I WANT TO BE ON THE FIELD DURING THE GAME AND STEAL THAT SOCCER BALL, AND IF YOU WON’T LET ME, I WILL THROW MYSELF INTO THE GRASS AND SCREAM ABOUT MY MEAN MOTHER TO THE ENTIRE CROWD.
He was very vocal about each game expulsion, too.
Here he is, demonstrating the soccer offense of HANDS.
The little baby doesn’t like being called a little baby, but he exercised the full extent of his Y chromosome and let the little gal wait on him and hand-feed him. He was a bit putout that she didn’t have some palm leaves to fan him with, while he ate.
Cousin K was there to watch his sister play soccer, too. He and Mam used the sidewalk chalk to distract Thing 2 from being red-carded for Excessive Game Interruptions. Thing 2 was very impressed with the chalk for exactly 42 seconds.
L had the eye of the tiger last night. She was on fire! I think she ran the equivalent of a half marathon during last night’s game, and she never felt the urge to turn cartwheels in the grass, like a couple of the girls did during the game.
(For the record, dads on the sidelines get very upset when their daughters are doing cartwheels when the ball is headed in their direction.)
While the game was going on, The Littles played.
“Stop it, Thing 2. I’m your COUSIN! That isn’t funny! Quit looking at me! And you’re an embarrassment to the family every time you run out there on the field during the game and shout ‘BALL!!’ Why can’t you sit still at the game and use some manners like I do? You’re not tall enough to be the team’s goalie, so you need to stay out of the net while the big girls are playing! I swear, you’re going to be kicked out of kindergarten before the class Halloween party happens in 2017.”
Eventually, Thing 2 swiped someone’s green sports drink.
(I’d also like to submit this photograph as a possible ad campaign for Tide laundry detergent.)
My friend Bobbi was at the soccer fields, because her son was playing a game as well. She handed Thing 2 an apricot to occupy his attention. Bobbi is a brilliant mother with a solid game plan in place. I’m kind of thinking she’s ahead of me in the running for Mother of the Year, ’13.
The fruit kept Thing 2 happily distracted from trying to play goalie for several minutes.
The poor second child…
When Cousin L’s game finished up, Cousin M’s team took the field. We tried to stick around for M’s game, because M can rock a soccer field better than John Mellencamp can rock the USA. Sadly, Thing 2 was SPENT. He was also covered in apricot goop.
(I should also go on record and state that I woke up this morning with a patch of my hair that felt exactly like a petrified log. It was hard and crunchy. I had no idea what had happened, other than DID SOMEONE POUR PLASTER OF PARIS IN MY HAIR WHILE I SLEPT? No. It was leftover apricot puree.)
I did manage to snap a few pictures of M playing before we called it a night and went home.
I know he’s our nephew, which makes me a bit prejudiced towards him, but Cousin M is so cute, I just want to pinch him.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go pull the cat casserole out of the oven, and see if we have any d-CON to spread around the house.
Y’all have a happy weekend, and please… Use your vacuum cleaners, and let’s go on ahead and wipe the maple syrup spills up off of the kitchen counters.