I feel like I need a 4 day weekend to recover from the 4 day weekend the boys had this weekend. I also feel that way during Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Spring breaks. And don't even get me started on summertime. Thinking that far ahead gave me a mini-panic attack. I need to slow my roll and focus on the here and now.
Friday was pretty relaxing, and there wasn't a ton on our agenda. Saturday, however, was a vastly different story.
My day started at 4:00 a.m. Yes, I mean dark o'clock. It was dark. And it was early o'clock. I headed over to drive friends to the airport so they could catch a flight to Florida to spend the week at Disney. Braggers. They went to Harry Potter World and everything. I can't even begin to describe the level of jealousy I feel as I flip through the H.P. pictures and like/comment on every single one. Because I do. And I want to (sweetly) thump my sweet friend on the noggin for not getting the appeal of the wonderful world of wizardry. Some people. I mean...
Anyway, I had her husband drive us to the airport, and then I drove their Expedition back to their house. The LAST thing I wanted was to have 12 eyes staring at me as I drove an unfamiliar vehicle in the middle of the night without having consumed coffee. I only closed my eyes about 4 times as I drove it...twice when I was paying to get out of the airport and then the whole electronic gate thing.
(No vehicles were harmed during this trip...just FYI.)
I went home, fully intending to do some laundry and get snacks ready for our busy day...and I totally did. Inside my head. Because my eyelids closed all on their own, and then it was 10:00 and I was running like a crazy woman because I needed to do ALL.THE.THINGS.
My dad was early (totally fine), so we loaded everything into his truck and dropped N off to do some batting practice before the tournament. Then we headed to B's flag football game. I know B loves to play, and I love to watch him play, but I get so irritated for him when I see the ball always going to one particular player. I mean, I know he always catches the ball, but how can anyone else always catch the ball if it never gets thrown to them? B was also suffering from a "foot injury" that seemed to ebb and flow as far as pain level goes based on if we were sitting in the car or he was able to run around and play. Clearly, it was life threatening.
B played almost all of the 40 minutes, and became almost inconsolable after his "injury" sidelined him in the last 2 minutes of the game. He was moody and cranky the whole way to N's first game (already in progress), and claimed he only wanted a Dr. Pepper when we went through the drive-thru at Chick Fil-A. Lucky for him...Mom knows better.
When we got to the ball fields (It was a Lewisville tournament, but our pool games were being played at "other area fields" and we wound up a good 30 minutes away in east Plano), the first game was almost over. This mom was a hot mess...she hates missing games and knew N didn't have any of "his people" there to represent. Luckily, we were totally winning, and although I felt bad, I knew that getting a solid win would be what mattered. The first game was an 8-1 victory, although N and I are still arguing about that because the scoreboard wasn't working. He says 7, the website said 8...and I sided with the tournament. He obviously thinks I'm a moron.
We had a break between games, and it was a tough decision. Ultimately, my dad took the boys to the mall to meet the team while I went with my mom to get N the Jamba Juice I promised him because it was nearby. Let me just say...Jamba is one of our favorites, and there just aren't enough locations nearby. It was a thing I had to come through on, or I'd lose any cool-mom cred. As if he would agree I had any to begin with...but I digress.
The second game, I have to admit...I didn't really watch. I mean, I watched, but I was on the phone for the entire game (and then some), talking to someone I legitimately hadn't spoken to on the phone since roughly early 2005. And they needed me. So I was there. It's what I do. We lost, but it was a squeaker...6-4. When the rankings were posted while we were STILL on our way home, CBC (our team) was ranked 4th, and that gave us an 11:00 a.m. game time. I can handle that all day long.
We met at 9:30 for batting practice, and then went to the (MUCH closer) Lewisville fields to finish out the tournament. We were pumped because we knew if (WHEN) we won our first game, we wouldn't have another game until the semifinal at 5...which meant hours to go home and nap or watch a bunch of episodes of Psych or make sangria in case we made it to the finals.
We won the first game pretty easily, 10-5, and knew we would more than likely be facing the team that beat us the night before (ranked 1st in the tournament) in the semifinal. When we got back for the 5:00 game, the score was 6-5, and they still had a while to play. We held our breath, hoping the lower ranked team would pull it off, but they didn't and lost 9-5.
And that's about when all the shit hit the fan...
Aubs
No comments:
Post a Comment