If your personality tends to run higher on the jealousy side than not, tonight’s blog post probably isn’t for you, because I’m about to reveal everything I did today.
I picked up enough wooden train track off of our floors to open a new railroad from Boston to Honolulu.
I stuck a mascara wand right into my eyeball and left a streak of black Revlon on my contact lens.
I did exactly one load of laundry, because I wanted to be productive, yet my procrastination side was in Open Season today, too.
I used a series of Bounty paper towels and Clorox spray to clean up a pile of cat barf, as I mentally envisioned myself driving down a dark, country road in a rainstorm, with both cats in the backseat of my Suburban, because CAN WE QUIT EXPOSING OUR CHUCKED-UP HAIRBALLS TO EVERYONE ALREADY, BEFORE I DROP YOU OFF AND DRIVE AWAY FOREVER?!
I went to Walmart with a toddler.
I’m sorry that I’m living such a glamorous lifestyle, right here in front of you. Somehow, it just doesn’t seem fair. I was hoping that I could tone down all the excitement today, but sometimes it’s hard to throw a blanket over the lifestyles of the rich and famous and hope that no one notices.
So, I’ll leave you with some snapshots I took at the boy’s soccer game this week. Apparently, the fall soccer season is officially in full swing, which means that it’s only a matter of time before the Arctic cold fronts begin moving in on game days. If we intend to stick to tradition again this year, we’ll have the weather that requires North Face parkas and electric blankets every single time we have a game to watch.
Because the junior high teams in Small Town, USA are co-ed… and because Cousin L started junior high this year… and because some of our good, family friends started junior high, too… we just signed EVERYONE up for one team. This makes tailgate parties and game-watching very easy, because everyone just has one game to hit… and voila! They’ve watched all the kids in action, in one spot.
Thing 2 and little Cousin H were thrilled to see each other at the game, because they’d been apart for exactly five hours before this hug happened.
And then the whistle blew, and the game was going strong, and we all alternated turns chasing Thing 2 around the sidelines, as we repeated over and over and OVER, “No! You can’t be IN this game!! You’re too short!”
If you’re doing the math, that’s a whole lot of years that they’ve had to get into trouble together.
Well… Paul is our coach this season. Apparently, the boy thinks he’s doing a smack-dab fine job of it, too, because he made the comment after practice one night, “Mom, I think Paul could probably coach professional soccer, he’s so good.”
We don’t want Paul to catch wind of that comment, though, because it’ll go to his head.
This is Hubs and Paul, circa… 1982, maybe?!
We told her how hot she looked, after the referee made her tape up her earrings, so they wouldn’t be ripped out, causing a need for plastic surgery and big bandages.
And that’s gonna do it for tonight.
Y’all have a good weekend.