We woke up this morning, got ready for soccer, headed out and made it there in the nick of time. It was so crowded I stood for most of the session. It was fine, though. I'm cool with it. I did tell my husband - when he reminded me that my ILs will probably see our daughter play when they come through here in October - that we won't be one of those families who take up the whole bench with 4-5 family members seated at a time. I mean, maybe if you have a ton of kids. But five adults to one child that's out on the field seems a bit much to me. But I'm nice.
Have I confirmed for you all that I'm a soccer mom?
But I am. I mean. I'm a mom. And my daughter plays soccer. So there's that, right?
Or no? Do I have to drive a minivan to make that an accurate label? Or, I suppose, I should have to drive at all. Right?
But then there's that Mommy Blogger terminology, as well. I'm a mom who blogs. So therefore, I must be a mommy blogger, yes? No? Does anyone really know? Does anyone care? I don't mean this with any sarcasm nor am I being facetious. I wonder, to whom the term matters more. Women who are mothers who blog, or women who call themselves mom bloggers, or what, exactly?
After soccer we went for lunch at IHOP. It really is one of the greatest places on Earth, I tell you. Oh, is that supposed to be Disney? Sorry. I might have mixed those two up. Just a tad.
And speaking of, we're home now. And my husband said to me, 'I recorded U-P.' And I took a moment, and said, 'So did I.' Great minds and all. I laughed to myself. Did I record it upstairs and he down? Did I go to record it, see it was already set and think I'd done it earlier and forgotten? Any of these could be the case. When you're getting on in years as I am who knows, right?
And so my daughter is watching it right now. Which is the only reason I can write this at the same time. And I'm not watching the opening scenes, because though I haven't seen the entire movie these early spots bring me to tears. Just can't do it. Oh, and the movie is UP, in case you didn't catch that earlier.
Oh! And let's talk for a moment about getting on in years. We went to a birthday party today and the young lady (ha! Girl!) at the play place who worked there, after she asked me how old my daughter was, proceeded to tell me she is 18, and her mom is like, oh ... wow. We chatted some about her being in high school, applying for colleges, and how the essays suck. I remember that well. I offered support and thought to myself that I am exactly twenty years older than she is. Dear G-d. When did that happen?
Anyway, right now I'll say bye. Sign off and wait for the Papa (John's - that is) to bring us pizza for dinner. $11 for a large pie with up to seven toppings. Why is it that when there are such deals I can only think of one or two that I'm in the mood for? I mean, tomatoes and extra cheese of some sort. What else really would I want on my pizza. Except for broccoli. It'd be nice if they started carrying broccoli there, like Domino's does. Ah, well. Another time, perhaps.
I hope you all are enjoying your Saturday, and that you squeeze your loved ones tighter and give them all an extra hug or two tonight before bed. I've got lots to say tomorrow, and I have some of it drafted, as I've mentioned, but some of it is just laying there. Still. Dormant. Waiting. Deciding if it should or shouldn't bubble up to the top of the still surface. I suppose we'll see.