WTF Wednesday

On Wednesday mornings I usually run with my friend around a 4 mile loop on post. She cancelled last night, something about not feeling well. She’s also 178 weeks pregnant so I’m ok with her wussing out. Later, my friend Kay invited me on a bike ride. I planned to go, but then got the wild idea to take John and the twinkies (on their bikes) for a run around the loop.

The twinkies ask to ride their bikes every 30 seconds.

He looks pretty happy doesn’t he? The answer is no, not at all. This kid refused to take part. He pedaled so slow that I had to walk, and still keep stopping for him to catch up.

There was an old man with a brace on his leg and a crutch that lapped us. Seriously.

I was so angry that I gave up and turned around 1.5 miles in. It took Jackson and John another half mile to realize they had lost us. I tried yelling for them, but I think John had headphones on. (He denies this charge)

On the way back Reese started pedaling faster so I started to run. No joke, as soon as I started to run he slowed back down. Jerk.

WTF?

Also, the stupid dog peed blood again.

Bonus WTF moment.

This is not staged.

I have not words for this one. He really loves soccer.

Sick Teenagers

My oldest son, John, is sick. Really sick. He sounds like he is hacking up a lung. His coughing wakes me up at night. That’s irritating. I mean really, I need my beauty sleep.

The only upside is that I know he is actually still in his room and hasn’t snuck out in the middle of the night. Not that I would ever expect a teenager to do something like that, I know I never would have when I was his age. (I was a couple of years older when I started sneaking out.)

He is so sick that he went fishing Monday night. The guys here (by guys I mean the guys my husband knows) did something called a suicide run. They left after work and drove a few hours to the Russian River. They fished until they caught their limit and then drove home. Twice as much time in the car as in the river.

I think I can speak for most women when I say that is absolutely crazy behavior.

(But, I don’t mind the stock of red salmon in my freezer.)

He is so sick that he then slept all day Tuesday. When he woke up he ate.

Then he ate some more.

Then he did some texting.

Ate some more.

More texting.

More eating.

Then he went to soccer and played the entire game.

He was so sick that Wednesday he spent several hours playing soccer in the afternoon. Then he went to practice. In the rain. It was 50 degrees and raining.

He said practice was excellent, but his legs were tired.

Today he actually stayed home all day. You know, because his legs were tired, not because he was coughing every 20 seconds and blowing his nose. (Also, conveniently putting the used tissues back in the tissue box. Thanks for that.)

That child is so sick that he ate four helpings of shepard’s pie. And a popsicle. And two glasses of milk. Then he did his chores.

In fact he is so sick that he waited until 8:30 PM to ask, “Can I go play soccer if I’m home by 10?”

Actually, it sounded more like, “COUGH Can I go COUGH go play soccer COUGH COUGH if I’m home COUGH COUGH COUGH by 10?”

Because I’m a good mom I said, “No, you’re sick. You need to rest.”

He looked at me like I was the biggest loser on the planet and said, “OK. FINE!”

Lovely.

Maybe tomorrow the doctor will admit him….

 

A Parent’s Guide To Soccer

This afternoon I watched my 7,456th soccer game. While I enjoy watching my children play sports, after a while it gets old. Really old. Really, really old. The sport and the children are probably interchangeable. For this example I will refer to soccer, but baseball, softball, volleyball, football, and basketball could easily be swapped in. I will also be referring to the child as “he” even though I also have a “she.” It’s my blog I can do whatever I want.

PHASE ONE

You and/or your spouse see a sign about soccer for children ages 4 and up. The two of you decide that this is the right time to enroll your child in team sports. They will learn to work with others, strategize, and have fun. Or, at the very least burn off some energy. You balk a little at the $40 cost (including a uniform t-shirt) but decide it is worth the money. You could have the next David Beckham on your hands and not even know it. You also purchase the cutest little soccer shoes and shin guards at Target for a total cost of $20. You decide to buy a soccer bag for all of his gear shoes, shin guards, water bottle. It’s pricey, but he looks so cute lugging that big bag around that you spring for it despite the ridiculous cost.

During this phase the kids play “beehive soccer.” There is no playbook and no strategy. They just blindly follow the ball around the field and try to kick it in a VERY LARGE soccer net. There is no score kept. It’s coed. Everybody is a winner. After each game one parent is required to bring snacks for the team. You purchase those cute little bottles of Gatorade and cut up piles of oranges. For good measure you also get a few boxes of granola bars. Nothing but healthy snacks for your little athlete.

You invite all of your friends and family out to the field on Saturday mornings. You watch. You cheer. You giggle over your son picking dandelions out of the grass. You take piles and piles of photos. Many of them are “just the cutest” pictures of him squatting down with his hands under his shin guards scratching his legs. You ask around about what ‘off sides’ means, no one knows. It’s hot. It’s cold. You complain about both, but it’s worth it.

The first time a game is rained out you cheer the kids up by going to the humane society and adopting a stupid dog. (I highly recommend avoiding this part of phase one.)

You love the coach. At the end of the season you buy her a present after she gives every child a trophy.

PHASE TWO

At this point your child has played soccer for a few years. You think he is pretty good, maybe the best on the team. He moves up a level and so does your cost. Now it is anywhere from $75 to $120 for the season. That hurts a little, but at least he gets a uniform. They get real soccer shirts now and matching shorts. You notice the soccer bag has a hole in it. You patch it with duct tape because it was at least $40. The teams are no longer coed.

You’ve missed a few games and feel bad about it. Luckily, you have made some friends on the team that can help transport the kids to and from the game. The carpool family winds up being your best friends. The kids love each other and you all hang out outside of soccer and gossip about the other parents. Whenever someone from your side yells ‘OFF SIDES’ you do too, even though you don’t know what it means. You take a few pictures in the beginning of the season.

After the games you are still required to do the snack thing. You think the kids might be getting a little old for it. Instead of sliced oranges they just get granola bars or twinkies or whatever you can grab on the way to the game because you forgot it was your day. When your child requests the full size bottles of Gatorade you ask him if he thinks money grows on trees.

You complain like nobody’s business about the hot/cold. You buy every different type of bug spray to keep away the gnats and mosquitos. You burn incense, nothing works. You like the coach, mostly. At the end of the season you all pitch in to get him a gift. There is an awards ceremony, everyone gets a trophy.

PHASE THREE

Soccer is now a line item in your family budget. You’re on the payment plan because he is playing year-round, indoor and outdoor. Your household now spends more each month for the payment than you did for the entire season when they were little. The uniforms are an extra $100. ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS. Within six months the shirt already has holes in it. You invest in more duct tape. His soccer shoes now cost $130 and the shin guards are another $35. He also has to have a ball, “a good one, not the cheap ones from Target Mom.”

He is required to keep his soccer bag in the trunk because it smells like moldy teenage boy. He can buy a new one with his own money.

You’ve missed lots of games, but have convinced yourself that your son does better when you are not watching. This makes you feel like a good and bad parent at the same time. Your soccer BFF’s moved away. You have a new carpool buddy, but it’s not the same. Most of the other parents are irritating and take the game entirely too seriously for your taste.

Camera? Am I supposed to bring a camera to this?

The girls’ stay after their game to watch the boys play. They cheer on the boys. They cheer on your boy. It makes you feel jealous and angry and then weird and old.

There are no more snacks. Instead you have to bring something for the potluck barbecue after the game. This irritates you until you realize that it is acceptable to also bring beer to the barbecue.

You couldn’t care less about the coach’s personality. You fork over the cash for the end-of-season gift, but do not volunteer to actually buy it because you got burned on that deal once already.

You have now spent more time watching soccer than you have doing anything else in your adult life. You would just once like to watch a game that was in perfect weather, not steaming hot, not raining, not windy, and not freezing cold.

You still have no idea what ‘off sides’ is, nor do you care.

The Silent Treatment

Before I get into this post I want to give a shout out to everyone who visited my blog yesterday. Being on Freshly Pressed is kind of awesome. Lots of you commented and subscribed, which is also awesome. I am going to visit your blogs too and attempt to reply to everyone. I’m overwhelmed so give me a day or two. Thank you…yes, you!

Anywho.

For about 24 hours now my eldest son, John, has given me the silent treatment. I have no idea where he learned this counter-productive and immature behavior. Not from me, I assure you. I’m a talker. A yeller. A stay up all night and cry and fight until it is figured out kind of person.

It’s a really delightful personality trait.

Yesterday, my son got into trouble at school not once, but twice. As a parent I am actually ok with an occasional slip up. He’s 14, not capable of making the right decision all the time. I totally get that. But there still has to be a punishment, even if you know they are being normal.

Also, normal for a teenager is completely stupid and devoid of any reason or consequences.

He came home and told me about one of the incidents, a little scuffle with another puberty-stricken teenage boy. They got sent to the principal for it. He neglected to mention that he also got into trouble for chattering in math class. Luckily, the teacher had already emailed me.

I talked to him about the problems. I felt like he understood that he needed to make better choices and take responsibility for his actions.

Ten minutes later he asked if he could meet his buddy at the soccer field. I said no.

He looked at me like a had a wiener on my forehead.

“Ummm…. you got into a fight at school and got kicked out of math class today! So, no. No, you cannot go hang out with your friend at the soccer field.”

He said, “But, soccer is going to help me!”

I said, “Yeah, so is math. So is learning to control yourself so you don’t get sent to the principals’ office.”

Apparently that was a completely foreign concept to him.

He sulked most of the evening.

Finally, I asked him if he was just not going to talk to me anymore.

He said, “Yeah.”

Fine. Two can play at that game.

This morning I figured it would be over. He never follows through on anything else, why would this be any different?

Silence again.

So again I asked (not very nicely), “Are you just not going to talk to me?”

“Yep.”

It is now 10:00 PM and he has barely said three words to me.

It was my night to drive the soccer car pool.

Not one word.

He even rode in the backseat.

If this is what I have to look forward to for the next 4 years, I’m going to need a new liver.