WEEKEND RECAP

SooooOO! How was your weekend? Mine? Glad you asked. In reality, it wasn't bad at all. The national garage sale was, um, interesting. I'm just going to put it out there and say,...if you don't have a hauling trailer and the desire to pummel your competition for "one man's trash", then you aint among the big guns.

These people were crazy. They were ready to dish out a beatdown to anyone who dared stand in the way of their shell covered lamp shades or brass horse bookends. And I honestly thought I was going to have a ring-side seat when two muscle heads nearly duked it out over farmer John's 1952 tractor, complete with aerator and hauling doo-hickey.

I almost busted up laughing OUT LOUD when some lady bought the ugliest early 70's plaid, gold and green overstuffed chair and stated, "Why are you selling this? It's too beautiful to part with." Whaa??? I wanted to say, "Sister, you really need to stop at the sale three doors down. They've got a special going on prescription glasses and I'm thinkin' you might should buy a pair or ten."

Aaaaanyway, I came home pretty much empty handed. I'll try again next year. If I can find a hauling trailer at a yard sale prior to, that is.

So, Saturday was the last day of soccer for my three oldest. It was also the hottest morning on record since,...okay, not really. But it was smokin' hot. The humidity had me in my Roseanna Roseanna Danna mode again. Folks, this is so not a pretty sight I'm talkin' here. And naturally, the kids were playing a good 65 yards apart or more, so I had to haul my stroller and my frizzy haired self back and forth a few hundred times, sweating up a storm as I clod stomped along. My Reece and Cierah had zero energy to spend in the heat, nor did any of the kids in their age group. It was like watching slugs play on salt covered cement. They were dragging, I tell you.

But Olivia's game? Now that's another story which I simply must tell because, well, I'm all about being forthright and all. So, here it is. The deal.

Liv's team got pummeled by an exception to how things are run in this particular league. It's a skills league, meaning very laid back, no pressure, everyone plays equal time, etc. But there are a few overzealous coaches and sadly, the other team had one. The opposing coach was a woman who had 9 players to work with. Only 5 showed on Liv's team for the final game. They started playing "3 on 3" which left us with two relief players to work with. Apparently, that didn't work well for the very pushy coach from the other team, which alone was frustrating. She insisted on 4 on 4 "because I have too many kids wanting to play." Okay, so we had one (count 'em, O.N.E.) relief player on the hottest day yet. Swell!

I was equally frustrated that Liv's coach didn't stand up to this woman, especially when I tell you the rest of the saga.
See, there was this one boy on her team that I'm thinking might have been her son (splitting image was the big clue). He was (how do I say this tactfully?) a very big boy. Liv is very tall for her age, yet he stood more than a foot taller than her, very big boned and stout. People come in different sizes. I realize this. My Reece, by comparison, is a Who down in Whoville. A shrimp boat, if you will.

But the thing about this kid is, our kids were terrified because he has not yet learned to be aware of his body size and thus would pick up momentum, then not be able to slow down and he was hurting our kids. Seriously. They were coming off the field crying.

And his coach barely brought him out of the game. So, Liv was workin' up a 'tude. And soccer is the one place where her 'tude often helps her instead of hurting her. She got her knickers in a twist. A knot, if you will.

"Great, Mom. I have to go back in and he's out there."
Now, I had missed half the action during my clod stomps between fields, so I wasn't entirely sure what she meant. Thus, I just told her to be careful and play hard.

Oh, she did.

But he made her mad when he effortlessly took the ball away from her for the umpteeth time and she shoved him (bugged eye Toni here). Then she did it again and said it was an "accident." Okay, not good and we had to have a serious sportsmanship talk afterward.

Now, the other coach insisted on playing "just one more goal" at the end of the game, when all the other teams had stopped playing. When our kids were near delirious from dehydration in spite of rehydration. So, excuse me while I remove my tongue from my windpipe where it firmly lodged when I swallowed it but, did she REEEALLY just say "ONE MORE GOAL"???

You mean, the 27 goals they already ran up on our exhausted 5 kids wasn't enough?

Oh, it's on, sister. It's OOOOOON!

"Go, Liv. GOOOOOOOO!
Give it to 'em, sis.
Run hard. Kick it. KICK!
Good job. Run. Run. RUUUUUUUUUUUU-N!!!
Kick it in, sis.
KICK! IT! IN!"

And with a "last hurrah" power jaunt down the field, she did just that. My tough cookie scored a goal. The final goal. The only goal for her team that day and she scored it, in "(wo)mandatory" overtime. Her coach turned to me and said, "She's become quite a player." And she really has, thank you very much. And now I feel sooo much better for having gotten this off my chest. Not really, but please just humor me here.

We ate at a Mexican restaurant Saturday evening, having the very best horchada we've ever had. If you've not had this delightful Mexican beverage, I simply insist you find a restaurant that serves it in your area and try it. It is just soooo refreshing and delish. Of course, we ordered breaded shrimp for Reece, a steak meal for Carl and I to split, and quesedillas for the girls, but instead got broiled shrimp, two steak meals for Carl and I and tacos for the girls. But hey, the horchada was to die for so it's all good.

And finally, Reece studied his dad in the mirror today while he shaved for church. Our conversation...
"Momma, when am I'm gonna have lots of hair on my face?"
"When you're older. And then I'm going to call you my big hair monster man."
"You mean, like that guy in the mirror?"
"Yes, Reece. Like that guy. Your Dad."
Momentary pause, followed by a gasped surprise.
"Momma! I feel hairs on my legs!"
"See, it's happening already, little man."

And off he went, content with his perceived small step toward manhood. If only he knew how very soon it will come. Sigh.

Toni