June 12, 2008
So many gorgeous old trees, gone.
So many gorgeous old trees, gone.
We rarely have bubbles here. I buy them, or occasionally make them, and the kids will play with them for a little bit. Inevitably, someone will knock the container over and spill the bubbles mix. Then other kids will scream at the person who knocked it over, because there is no such thing as an accident. Then everyone ends up in tears and also covered in bubble mix, which is not conducive to being sent inside for time out.
Instead I prefer to just lobotomize myself with a butter knife.
bathing suit: check
waterproof shoes in the form of crocs: check
festive head gear: check
candy necklace: check
In spite of the clouds and the chilly temperatures we had our end of the (home)school year party. One of my friends just finished her first year of homeschooling her children. She marveled at how fast it had flown by. We all congratulated each other for making it through another year without going bald, you know from pulling our own hair out in frustration.
Though, to be fair, my friends who send their kids to regular school tell me they congratulate themselves for the very same thing.
I am going to change the name of my blog. Notes from the Baseball Field. Because clearly I have nothing left to write about except for baseball related posts.
Here is my son diving for the ball in my front yard. Which is all well and good except you can see where his eyes are looking, right? He is looking there because the ball has already LONG gone by him. At least his hand isn’t stuck in his pocket.
And he does have great hair. Way to go Leif Garrett!
Miles demonstrates the proper technique for head protection.
This evening we have two baseball games in two different towns at the same time, as well as a practice I have already decided to blow off. This is problematic since I have not yet figured out how to clone myself. Mercifully it is raining outside. As opposed to inside which would be tragic. Though all this means is that the inevitable has been postponed.
At least I don’t have to think about it today.
Here my 12 year old son explains proper ball holding technique to his 7 yr old brother. Don’t ask me about it. I am clueless. What do you mean your palm doesn’t touch the ball? It really is sad that my 7 yr old has surpassed all my athletic abilities.
This is what I have begun resorting to, copying instant messages in lieu of a real post, with proper punctuation, and a coherent narrative.
Me: My son’s last baseball game was soooo pathetic
Me: and I am equally pathetic for CARING
Her: yeah how do you NOT though?
Me: but my god he went from being the lead batter to batting eighth
Me: and next week I can bet he will be behind the kid with the lisp, who ducks and jumps out of the box with every pitch
Her: that’s funny
Me: and sadly true. I want to rip the bat out of his hand and beat him over the head with it.
Me: I also want to beat his coach with it, too. It is a toss up these days.
Me: Who knew little league could inspire such a violent streak in me.
Me: Then to make it even worse
Me: [Son] was in the outfield eating sunflower seeds
Me: and got his hand stuck in his pocket
Her: okay how exactly does that happen?
Me: and missed the one and only ball that came to him
Me: yeah he brings blonde to a whole new level
Want to read more about what will drive me to a straight jacket?
Today over at Work It, Mom! I did a new twist on the recipes. Linking to people who have posted summer friendly recipes I think sound delicious and are easy enough to be made from the confines of my straight jacket. All of these have made it to my short list. You know, once I stop feeding my children from the snack bar.
I am turning comments back on and crossing my fingers that the unrelenting spam that crippled my site has let up. It was very odd not having comments. I missed all of you. Well, most of you.
We had a busy weekend working on the house, watching baseball games, and soaking in the vitamin D . Eating snowcones was an integral part.
So tell me, how have you been?