Rock, A Hard Place, and a Good Kid

So summer really has taken hold now. We've been so busy swimming, tumbling, kicking balls, watching movies, planning a cheer season, hanging with friends, and dealing with drama.

What's the drama? Well my son has been playing Academy Soccer for the past 2 1/2 years with a local club. He's very loyal to this club as he's played with some of the other players since he was 4 years old. He loves his team.

This year the team is old enough to move up to the next level--competitive soccer. And a month ago we got a call that our son was going to be singled out and cut from the team. They felt like he just didn't have the chops. The other kids on the team who don't have the chops? Well there's where politics come into place. You know. It's an old story.

So during the past month we've gone around town looking at other clubs. Unfortunately for my son, none of these clubs felt like home. You see my son is one of these old fashioned loyal type of guys, and he really loves his teammates. So despite the fact he knew that he was probably going to get cut, he insisted on trying and only trying with the team that he's been playing with as long as he can remember.

And then he said, "Maybe I can change the coach's mind. Maybe he won't cut me."

Rock and a hard place--that's where my husband I were--rock and a hard place.

I mean how do you explain politics to a 10 year old kid?

How do you explain to them that showing up to every practice, trying hard, and being agreeable means nothing in competitive sports if you don't have the magic touch on the ball?

You can't.

So today, my husband took my son to tryouts. And he got cut.

Little B cried on the way home, and my husband then took him on a "man walk" for a "man talk." When they got home he told me he still didn't want to try out for other teams. He was going to find a friendship team and find the fun in soccer again. He was going to have time to explore other things he was interested in that he's never had time to do before, and he was excited about that. And he insisted that today, it was going to be a good day for only one bad thing had happened.

"Hopefully that one bad thing won't ruin the whole day," he finished.

And for him, I think it won't.

He's a good kid.

And for that coach who decided to single him out? Well, I'm sure you all have a few choice words for him. Don't you? I know I do.

You're Embarrassing Me!

I think I was 11 or 12 the first time I remembered being embarrassed by my parents. I was having a slumber party with my girlfriends, and right in the middle of us dancing to a rousing chorus of Sheena Easton's Morning Train, my Dad jumps in the center of our circle and starts doing the Monkey.

When I look back my Dad dancing was pretty funny, but at the time, what comes out of my mouth?

"Da-ad...you're embarrassing me!"

So Tuesday my 10 year old son and I decided to go see The Land of the Lost. It was mildly amusing, but there was one line that set me off laughing.

"Suck it Matt Lauer!" yelled by the amusing Will Farrell

It was one of those spewing-drink-out-of-your-mouth laughs. And just when I was really getting going I hear the harsh whispering reprimand of my son,

"Shhhhhhhhhhhh, MOM! You're embarrassing me!"

And there it is. Life coming full circle. Who knew it would come so fast?

So...Are You Still There?

So it's summer.

And the kids are home.

And the neighborhood pool is open.

And there was soccer camp.

And there was tumbling camp.

And the after-the-pool party with the neighbors have begun.

And the annual garage sale was last weekend.

And I still haven't uploaded my pictures from Mexico, though they are totally awesome.

And my daughter had surgery last week to get an earring out of the inside of her piercing. No. I don't know how it got in there. But it did. And apparently knocking her out was the only option.

And I've volunteered for one too many things. I think I need a shirt with a Superman "S" on it. Only mine will stand for SUCKA!

And I haven't blogged in weeks. Perhaps my "S" shirt instead will mean "Suck." As in I suck at finding time to blog.

Tomorrow I will find time to blog. No really. Something more substantial than a whiny entry with weak excuses about why I haven't been blogging.

Because really, I have a lot to say. I just have the find the time to say what I want to say, edit out all of the stuff that causes the gossipy be-atches out there to get all worked up (Oh, you know who you are...:P), and press "Publish Post."

Anyway, tomorrow. Tomorrow I will sit down and write something substantial.

You know unless I feel called to the pool or something.

Oh wait. I do have one more picture uploaded from my trip. Here's the hubby and I on our first night. We're exhausted because of our 6 hour flight delay, we're pale because we missed the sun our first day because of the 6 hour flight delay, but we're happy because we found the room's beer fridge which was part of the "all inlcusive" vacation package.

How have you been?

Are you still there?

I'm back!

I'm back.

But I'm not all here.

Of course how is that different than any other day?

¡Adiós!

Fuera de respuesta de Blogger: Seré fuera de Blogger hasta Día de Partido Laborista que bebe margaritas y evita los paseos locos cargas de mi iPhone. Si usted tiene una emergencia de Blogger se siente por favor libre contactar cualquiera de las personas en mi categoría de Better Than a Blogroll. Ellos nunca fallan de divertirme. ¡Adiós!

Translation:
I'm outee b*tches! I'm off to the beaches of Mexico for a much needed vacation with my husband, friends, and NOT the kids.

Here is probably where I should ask you to send good vibes, wishes, prayers or whatever floats your boat to my my generous father-in-law who is spending the week with my kids taking care of everything. Also add my parents to the mix who have offered their house on the weekend. They're going to need it!

Wait.

Don't be sad.

I'll be back!

I promise.

And while I'm gone I thought I'd provide you will a little entertainment:

You Should Visit Mexico

You can be as comfortable as you want, eating fast food and partying with English speakers in resort town. But if you're feeling brave, venture out to Mexico City - or explore the tropical Yucatan.

What Latin American Country Should You Visit?

No really, I'm not trying to rub it in...

You Are a Lime Margarita

Realistic and grounded, you have the energy to tackle any obstacle that stands in your way. Hyper and driven, you despise lazy behavior of all kinds... especially lazy drunks too tired to dance!

What Flavor Margarita Are You?

Well...maybe a little...But it's only because:

Your Travel Personality Is: The Bonder

For you, travel is less about where you're going - but who you're going with. It's no fun to experience an amazing city or a beautiful beach without your friends. In fact, it doesn't really matter where you go... because you and your friends always figure out how to have fun!

What's Your Travel Personality?

You should go with me!

No?

Not this time?

OK.

I'll see you when I get back.

Have a great week.

Friday Frustrations: Dear Husband

Dear Husband,

When we are preparing to go on vacation just remember, there are TWO of us who can do all of the preparations.

Thank you.

Love,
Your Wife

Apparently, I Am a Member of the Okie Mafia

So I'm not one to get angry very easily. I'm what you call a slow burn. I take it. And I take it. And I take it. And I take it. And I take it.

And then...

Ba-boom!

I have the totally inappropriate blowup.

My father is that way as well. I can count on one hand the times he got angry during my childhood. Usually the anger resulted in a hole in the wall. And usually nobody was every sure what set him off.

Anger: It's not an emotion my father and I are too familiar with, and we do not handle it well.

So what's the point in me telling you all of this?

"Weeelllllll," she says shrugging her shoulders while blushing.

This week I had a little blow up. Unlike my father, however, I don't get physical. I tend to have words come out of my mouth that not even I use. And the way in which I put these words together...well all I can say it that it doesn't even really make sense, especially when I go into Okie Mafia mode.

What is Okie Mafia mode?

OK. I'm not angry right now, but I'm going to try to show you. Try to imagine this being said with a total New York housewife accent blended with Okie hick.

Yeah. I know. It doesn't even make sense. I'm almost to embarrassed to write it. But I will.

"You son of b*tch. Do you know who I am? Well you should. Because I efff'in know EVERYBODY. And eff'in EVERYBODY knows me. And I have a lot of eff'in friends, a lot of eff'in LOYAL friends. And if you, you total eff-tard, think you can mess with me or my family, you have know eff'in idea the wrath that I will bring down upon you. NO EFF'IN IDEA! You don't know when it will happen. But it will happen. And when it does, you'll know it's me. But you'll never be able to eff'in prove it, you stupid mother eff'in son of white trash piece of garbage that I wouldn't eat even if it were the last piece of food on the earth and I had been starvin' for week."

See?

It doesn't make sense.

I don't know everybody.

Everybody doesn't know me.

I don't know if I can get you back.

And quite frankly, once I'm not angry any more, I don't even really care if I ever get you back.

And I really don't know what's with the eatin' garbage bit. I wouldn't eat garbage. Though I suppose if I were really starving I might try it. But if you were the garbage I'd probably apologize first.

See? It makes no sense.

But I did it again, earlier this week. It being blowing my top. Fortunately for me I was in my own house, my kids were at school, and my husband was the only one who heard it. I should probably thank him for not bursting out in laughter at my ridiculousness as I was ranting. Though I have to say maybe he didn't laugh out of self-preservation. I mean did you hear my Mafia Okie speech? I'd be afraid if I were him.