Springing A Break

The first day of the boy's Spring Break looked like this:

That's my non-glamorous back yard.  All covered in snow.

Day 2 of Spring Break looked like this:

 

That's my non-glamorous doggie frolicking on the snow-covered deck.  And those are my legs in my snowman pajamas, striped socks, and orange Crocs... very glamorous.

 

Now it's Day 4 of Spring Break, and this is what we're doing:

 

 

We've had our fair share of Old Man Winter.  The sun shone for a few hours, and the temperature rose to 57 degrees, and we thought it was July.

All Things Soccer

Soccer season has cranked up again, and it may kill me.
Since the boy was about 6 years old, I've spent countless hours on the sidelines and driving back and forth from games and practices. 
This year, in addition to the Recreation league he plays on, he tried out for the Middle School team.
He made the team (Go, E!), but being on 2 teams translates to a lot more hours on the sidelines and in the car.
He has at least 2 practices a week, and there are times he has 3 games in one week.  That is a lot of back and forth in the car.
I'm tired from just typing it out.

Two of last week's school games were played in sub-zero temperatures with a little rain/sleet thrown in for good measure.  The parents all huddled on the sidelines and contemplated lighting a fire in a big metal trashcan.  The players' lips were blue.
Even when we got home, I was afraid to take off my boots for fear my toes would break off and stay in the boot.  Brrr.
 I've vacuumed mud out of my car seats about 14 times. There's even mud on the dashboard.

One of the weirdest things about teenage soccer players is their ability to sweat in 36 degree weather.
When your sweet little 6 year-old soccer player turns into a 6-foot soccer player, the smell is just as large.
Who knew shin guards could stink?  How much can a shin sweat?
I make the boy hang his shin guards in the garage.  When he takes them off, he sprays them with both Lysol and Febreze.  And they still stink.  The shoes are another story altogether.
In the last few weeks, Winter has decided to dig in and not leave; it's been COLD.
But I am riding home from practices with my windows down and my shirt pulled up over my nose to try and keep my gag reflex in check.

Good times.

All the hours in the car and all the hard work in bitter cold practices must be paying off...
The boy's rec team has won both of their games, and the school team has won all 3 of theirs.
I want a trophy for all my hard work, too.
It can be inscribed:

"For your driving around,

Sitting in the cold and sitting

in your car,

Cheering loudly when you can't feel your face,

And enduring the smell

of a thousand stinky shins"





More than likely, it will be 97 degrees in two weeks.  I just think those shin guards stink now.
I'll trade my windburn for sunburn, and I'll still be driving all over town for games and practices, but I will be sweating as well.
It's a good thing I love the boy.

In other news, it's the first day of Spring Break, and our yard is covered in snow.  More snow is in the forecast for tonight.  I'm one of the rare people who enjoys the Winter season and its companion, snow.  But now?

Dear Snow,
Why did you wait until Spring Break to pay us a visit?  Where were you on that sleepy Monday morning back in January?  We could have used you then.  We would have loved you more then.  Now, you are a cold nuisance.
Love,
Me

I'm waiting for my phone to ring and one of the coaches to tell me we have an impromptu practice... because it's snowing. 

The Day The Elderly Abused Me

I love senior citizens. I practically am one.
I love their ability to be blunt in every situation.  If your hair looks bad, they tell you.  If you have bad breath, they will tell you.  If you whisper in church, they'll turn around to shush you. If you've gained a few pounds, they'll tell you.  They are like toddlers with more money and more life experience.
And... if you let them, they will steal a shopping cart right out from under you.

Yesterday, I had to run into the Mart.  Sadly, it was pouring rain, so all the carts were soaking wet.
I tried, unsuccessfully, to loosen a cart from the jammed up cart pile for about 5 minutes.  When I finally got one free, I pulled it over to the side and wiped it off with an old Kleenex I found in my pocket.  Then I spied a roll of paper towels near the cart wipes.  (The "cart keepers" of the Mart were looking out for us.)  So I grabbed a few paper towels and kept on drying.
That's when the elderly man started stealing my cart.
He grabbed the front of the cart and was rolling it away with my purse in it.  For a grandpa, he was fast.  I had to jog a tiny bit to catch him.  Laughing as I ran, I finally grabbed the handle and said,
"You're stealing my cart!"

He said, "Oh.... I thought you worked here."

Well. 
I took my dry cart back and started my shopping.

For the record, I do not consider it an insult to be mistaken for an employee of the Mart.  But yesterday, there were some glaring differences.
I was drying off ONE cart... not the whole group.  The Mart employees are great, hard-working people... But none of them has ever dried off a shopping cart for me.
I was dressed up to meet Dan/Daddy for lunch.  By "dressed up," I mean "not stretchy pants and flip flops."  I had on a necklace and real shoes.  The employees at the Mart are nice, well-kept workers... But the sweater I had on was not "Mart blue." 
The Mart employee who stands at the door is friendly and chatty... But I wasn't even smiling.
So somehow, some way PeePaw thought I was a Mart cart wrangler.

My husband, my brother, my friend, and the boy all got the biggest laugh when I told them my story.
Dan/Daddy thought it was funny I had to run to catch the guy.
My brother told me he gets mistaken for a worker in stores all the time.
My friend said she didn't want to read about me abusing the elderly in the news.
The boy argued with me for at least 30 minutes about the color of my sweater.  He swears it was "Mart blue."  It's not.

When I paid for my things and left the Mart, PeePaw was walking out right in front of me. 
I laughed to myself, but I kept my eye on him.