Space Invaders

This morning, The Teenager filled me in on last night’s team dinner because, last night; she was too shell-shocked to adequately describe the experience. I knew the dinner had been successful because, there was virtually no food left when I returned from the football game and, having done the shopping for the event; I knew how much food there had been. Also, unlike the football game, were no reports of broken bones and, any party that ends without maiming your guests is a success as far as I’m concerned.

But, The Teenager’s definition of a successful party varies slightly from my own and, hers weighs heavily on attendance and by that, I mean that she was thrilled beyond measure because, and I quote, “The SENIORS came!”

Seniors are pretty high up on the school popularity scale, as is only right and natural and, having them attend a dinner hosted by a lowly Freshman was the pinnacle of success as far as The Teenager was concerned. Their presence at the dinner made The Teenager feel like a valuable part of the team which, is really what leadership is all about and, who are the leaders of a team if not the Seniors?

Still, I heart every one of those girls for being there. I don’t think they even realized just how special they made The Teenager, and all the other freshmen, feel last night and I hope the good karma they threw out there comes back around to grace each and every one of them.

Oh, and the fact that they all made Hugh feel like the best Grill Master in the Universe probably didn’t hurt, either.

Football Isn’t For Wussies and Teenaged Girls Like Hamburgers

Apparently, our football team is extremely breakable as evidenced by the second instance of a player being taken off the field in an ambulance at one of our games. Tonight, it was a compound fracture of the arm which is even less pleasant than a snapped wrist what with the blood and bone protruding from the skin and all.

Oh, and we lost, 0-20. It was not a pretty night.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch (and, speaking of pretty), Hugh was entertaining thirty-four teenaged volleyball players at our team dinner. He tells me they were all very well behaved and that, while very delicate and ladylike; they ate like hungry lumberjacks, or, a swarm of locusts, or, Kirstie Alley on a binge. I think what he was trying to say was, they eat, a lot, probably even more than our football players which could go a long way in explaining why our team is so damn breakable.

To the Four Winds

I am so scattered right now, I can hardly string two words together, never mind full sentences. Suffice it to say that my kids’ schedules are kicking my ass.

This morning The Teenager had to be at the orthodontist by 8:00 after which we ran to the Hellmouth for the groceries required for tomorrow night’s team dinner.

After work, I raced home to hose down the porch so that the team will have a nice place to congregate during said dinner, then, I raced the Man-Cub to football practice, raced back home to dust and vacuum, raced back to the park to pick the Cub up and then raced back home to make dinner,

Tomorrow, I have to be at the Middle School by 7:30 for a volunteer assignment that I signed up for weeks ago then, I will do a full day's work, race home to do the prep work for the dinner after which I will race the Cub to his tutoring session and then to the football field for team pictures and his game.

Luckily, Hugh will be available to hold down the fort at the team dinner until the game is over and, I’m sure he will do a great job since the dinner consists of grilled hamburgers and brats and, the grill is his Domain so, it’s all good.

I’m just really, really, tired right now. And, scattered, did I mention scattered? Because, goddamn, I am scattered. I probably just need a good night’s rest, unfortunately, while I was hosing down the porch I discovered a ginormous black widow spider lurking in the trim around the garage door and now, I may never sleep again.

On the other hand, just think of everything I could accomplish during the night hours.

I’m so screwed.

Go Bananas

The Man-Cub’s birthday party at the amusement park in Neighboring City went spectacularly well and, by that, I mean; I didn’t have to set up for, clean up after or supervise during, a birthday party for the first time in the history of my parenting experience and, that, my friends, was spectacular.

Rather than slaving over table decorations, games, food and entertainment, all I had to do was show up with cupcakes; the table was already decorated and set for eight guests each of whom received tokens for the arcade and wristbands that allowed for unlimited access to the park attractions.

We had a table hostess who saw to our every need, delivering pizzas and pitchers of soda on demand. When the food was gone, she swept in and carted off the dirty dishes and, when she noticed that we had leftover cupcakes, she offered to refrigerate them for me until our departure.

The kids took full advantage of the many amenities available to them including a really cool lazer tag area and a lazer maze which, I would have taken pictures of had it been allowed, sadly, it was not.

I did get to take pictures of the rest of the day, however and, it’s probably easier to show you how much fun the kids had than to tell you because, as they say, a picture tells a thousand words.

Also, I am lazy.

And now, despite having done the bare minimum to ensure a fabulous celebration of my son's 12th birthday, I am exhausted. Also, I have a buttload of left-over cupcakes should anyone want to join me in a diabetic coma. Yes? Great, I'll be on the couch.

The Scoreboard Doesn’t Lie

Except, when it does but, I’ll get to that in a minute.

After much bureaucratic bullpucky and nonsense, the boys finally got their official game jerseys at yesterday’s practice and, you never saw a team of kids more excited to take the field than this group was today.

They looked stylin’ and they were pumped to win; it probably didn’t hurt that they were all still cranked up on sugar, courtesy of the football-shaped sugar cookies the Man-Cub insisted I provide at last night’s practice since, you know, it was his birthday (and, he’s a pre-teen, now, Mom! A pre-teen!). I argued that I shouldn't have to slave over cookies since his birthday had actually been on Thursday but, since they didn’t practice on Thursday and, since his party isn’t until Sunday; the Cub apparently decided to call it a birth week and, well, it’s hard to argue with someone demented enough to think that they deserve an entire week to celebrate the day on which they were born and, as usual, I totally digress.

Anywaaay, as I said, the boys were pumped. Unfortunately the other team hadn’t yet gotten the memo about this being the Marauders day to triumph and, they started the first quarter with back-to-back touchdowns.

Not to be out-done, our boys rallied with a touchdown of their own, bringing the score to 13-6, quickly followed by a second touchdown, bringing the score to 13-13 which, somehow magically became 13-19 while our backs were turned, see…

as there had been no additional scoring on our side, we were a bit confused. Our confusion only deepened when, a mere minute later the scoreboard magically read 13-20.

As we waited for the other team to notice the error, our boys made the point moot by scoring another touchdown, making the score 13-27 when, in actuality it should have been 13-20 which meant we still won the game but, um, an accurate accounting of the score might have been nice.

For the record, the other team never noticed the error. Not one spectator noticed it, not one coach, not one player so; maybe the Point Fairy visits there on a regular basis and nothing phases these people, whatever.

So, we won but, not without some sacrifice as, once they started to lose, the other team started playing rather dirty, going so far as to snap the wrist of our starting quarterback on a late hit. It was not a pleasant thing to witness but, he’s a tough kid and I’m sure the story of how he was carried off the football field in an ambulance will become legendary first-date fodder. Let’s just hope his parents have Aflac.

As for us, we got off lucky; while the Man-Cub was tackled numerous times, he managed to bounce back up in a most Gumby-like fashion and we have no injury to report unless you count a sprained elbow from patting himself on the back a little too aggressively.

Eh, he earned it.

 
They all did.
 

Twelve. Yes, I Said TWELVE

So, yeah...the Man-Cub turned twelve years old, today.

He bounced out of bed at six a.m., raced downstairs to open his cards and to run an appreciative hand over the new bike that Hugh and I got for him and then casually informed me that this birthday makes him officially a pre-teen.

When I came to, I kissed the Cub goodbye and sent him off for what I’m certain will be a fun-filled day at school because, let’s face it; wherever goes the Man-Cub, thus goes the fun, it’s like a law of nature or something.

As I sit here, now, struggling to write something that the Cub may or may not look back on years from now, something that conveys how special he is to me, I rifle through old pictures for inspiration; it’s tough to adequately describe the pride that we feel for our children, the fierce love that we hold for them, the fear in our hearts each and every time we allow them to do something as simple as walking out the door to begin a new day and yet the difficulty comes not from having too few words to describe those things but in having too many. Sorting through the millions of reasons why I love this child overwhelms my brain’s ability to express itself.

The best that I can hope for is that the Cub will know, that he will just intuitively know how much having him in our lives has enriched us. How his sense of humor, his kindness, his adorable and unique wackiness make each day of our lives richer and more complete. How his infuriating habit of leaving dirty socks on the couch or his tendency to absent-mindedly leave his athletic cup in the most random places (like the kitchen windowsill) at once, baffle and delight us. How his never-ending supply of fart jokes and his ability to burp the Pledge of Allegiance amuse us and how proud we are at the bottomless well of compassion that he has for animals, smaller children and old women (I suppose it comes as no surprise that old women find him equally adorable); perhaps he will just know these things. Perhaps he won’t.

On the off-chance that he doesn’t, I suppose the best way to sum it up is merely to say, “I love you, Cubby. I love you every day of your life, every inch of your body from the tips of your toes to the top of your unruly head of hair, I love you.”

Also, while I very much appreciate your recent promise to look after me in my old age, even going so far as to say that I can come and live with you when I am old and feeble and you are happily married and secure; the day that you do stand at the end of that aisle, waiting for your bride? This is what I am going to see.

I don’t care how old you are.

Happy birthday, baby.

The Forecast Calls for Rain. Of Course it Does

The Man-Cub’s football team is scheduled to play at 5:30 this evening and it has been raining on and off since before I got out of bed this morning; this should make for an interesting and muddy game.

Yesterday was beautiful, with temperatures reaching the eighties, sunshine and a light breeze. Today, we have the rain and, by tomorrow it could be snowing and, that’s autumn in the Rocky Mountains, folk; be sure to pack an umbrella with your sunscreen and snow boots.

Speaking of packing, my parents arrived yesterday to spend a couple of days watching the grand-spawn participate in their sporting endeavors. Unfortunately, The Teenager’s team lost the first game that they have lost all season, putting their record at, I believe, 9-1 which isn’t too shabby.

Of course, my parents are now worried that they jinxed the team with some sort of bad mojo or some such shit but, everyone is entitled to have a bad day and, unfortunately, fate picked yesterday to visit one upon several of the girls on the team. Shit happens, we move on.

And, I’m enjoying my parent’s visit regardless of the loss or of the fact that we will inevitably end up watching the Cub’s football game from our stadium seats while huddled under umbrellas and blankets because; my parents are just that good of company.

And, I have a bottle of peppermint schnapps and a bunch of hot cocoa and I’m not afraid to use them.