The Man-Cub started wrestling practice at 6:30 this morning. Practice ended at 7:48. The morning bell rings at 8:00. Our home is approximately a one-minute drive from the school which gave the Cub approximately 9 minutes to shower, dress, and to brush his teeth and hair before jumping back in the car with a cereal bar and a smoothie for the race back to the school.
He was on time. Barely. Steps are being taken to eliminate this mad dash tomorrow, I assure you. And, by "steps", I mean that the child will be showering in the locker room at school despite his reluctance to do so and his impassioned declaration that, in the event that he MUST shower at the school, he will be wearing his swimsuit. Boys are weird.
In other wrestling news; Hugh was chosen to officiate at the state wrestling tournament again this year. It's an honor for him and we are proud. On the other hand, the tournament takes place on the same weekend that I am required to drive The Teenager to Denver for a volleyball tournament and I hate driving in the city; it would have been really nice to have my husband with us to do the heavy lifting. I'll get over it.
In news not at all related to wrestling; February is once again upon us. This means two things, one: large heart-shaped boxes of evil-coated goodies will magically appear on store shelves (I know, who am I kidding; those boxes appeared the day after Christmas) and, two: Lent starts, rendering the contents of those large heart-shaped boxes useless to me.
My recent addiction to dark chocolate-covered pomegranate seeds will be a tough habit to break but, I'm confident that I can do it. In addition to giving up chocolate and all things candy-related; I also plan to give up junk food, in general. I think this will present a bigger challenge than sweets, alone and; I'm up for it (the recent spread of my ass providing a fabulous motivator).
Speaking of challenges; Jana and I have challenged each other to live healthier lives and, as an incentive to do so, have set July 4th as the date that we will wear bikinis on the boat without covering up with layer upon layer of t-shirts, shorts and self-loathing. This gives us five months in which to get our asses in shape or in which to find magic bikinis that make us look good. I'm not sure which of the two would be a bigger challenge, honestly.