A Side of Rice

Hopefully Humorous (and sometimes R-rated) Musings About Life

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Look, Let’s Get Real

Last week, we had no baseball practices, tournaments, warm ups or the like.  Little league baseball season ended for my 11 year old in the semi-final game of the 11U State Tournament, and for my 10 year old in the quarter-final game of the 9U State Tournament the previous week.

But that didn’t mean we had no sports going on last week. Because it was the start of football conditioning camp.

You might think in frustration I would have plucked out all the grey hairs on my head about having no down time between sports. But, 1) it would take me longer than a week to pull out all the grey hairs even after a Root Touch-Up, and 2) I didn’t have to be at football practice.   That’s because this year 1)  I’m employed, and 2) my husband is going to be a coach.

And that, dear readers, means from now until when school starts, I have Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday night to myself from 6:00pm – 8:30pm (ish) as football conditioning camp and practices get underway.  Sweet Jesus, what’s a gal to do with all the down time?

My husband and boys have some definite ideas about what they think I should be doing with all my “free” time.

Husband & boys’ fantasy:  Think I should make a gourmet meal each night, and have it on the way to the table the second they get in the door.

Freakin’ reality: Look, ‘peel back foil to expose tater tots’ is as fancy as it gets around here for dinner.  And I hope by ‘table’ you mean the tray table in front of the ginormous TV in the family room so you can ignore me and watch ESPN ad-nauseum.

Husband & boys’ fantasy:   Think I should fold laundry.

Freakin’ reality:  Look, we’re lucky that the loads of laundry I wash over and over because I forget about them, actually smell less moldy after the third wash. And if I do remember to move it from washer to dryer, it’s a Festivus miracle. So fold your own damn underwear.

Husband & boys’ fantasy: Think I should take the dog for a walk.

Freakin’ reality: Look, the damn dog can walk out onto the deck, down the steps and into the yard without my help. And if you want your tater tots on the tray table as your sweaty asses walk through the door, there will be no dog walking.

Husband & boys’ fantasy: Think I should find personal fulfillment and motherhood nirvana by cleaning the bathroom

Freakin’ reality: Look, try to aim better you bunch of firing range rejects.  And for the love of Charmin, put the effin’ seat down when you are done.

Look, here’s the reality of what I do while they are sweatin’ it out on the gridiron:

  • Shout “hells yeah, you sorry bitches”, confirming — to no one other than our dog — my agreement with Judge Judy’s rulings
  • Cuss and swear at Level 65 on Candy Crush
  • Clip coupons for Root Touch Up
  • Think of indictments to add to the list for the Giudices
  • Rewatch seasons 1 – 10 of Project Runaway.  Rerank best Michael Kors disses.
  • Think about working on the next great American novel “Confessions of a Concession Stand Captive” (based on a semi-true story of a mom and the soul-sucking volunteerism of little league)
  • Ignore the cease and desist orders from a variety of brands that don’t appreciate the non-marketing approach I take to name-checking their products in my blog posts
  • Ignore the messages from “Super Duper Luber”, as I am not interested in promoting their product that (supposedly) allows any sexy encounter to “go down a little slower and/or easier” (perhaps Whitesnake ought to look into Super Duper Luber’s marketing copy and file a complaint)
  • Think very hard about things I can blog about, and fear I will end up with brain sprain
  • Ice my head due to intense migraine. Or perhaps it’s brain strain.  Will Super Duper Luber help with that?