Right now I am in between jobs. Which may sound kind of sketchy but for a substitute teacher its just the way it is. I am waiting for a baby to be born, latest job security. In fact, babies are the reason I get work.
I am in between maternity leaves just coming out of a long term one at an awesome place where every one knows my name. Nope not that place but the town starts with the same letter ;)
The thing is I thrive on being around people. Conversations, question and answer sessions, deliberation, how can we save the world with our ideas...you know your typical office or round the lunch table stuff. I have been at home now for three or four days or maybe more, I have lost count.So these stories that I just have to tell they are just building up in my head. My workout partner gets the brunt of them but I can't remember half the time what I have told and and what I haven't. She is polite enough to listen to the story several times and pretend I haven't already shared it. Again, I got lost. The stories. they have to be told. So just in case your bored. Read.
I have a severe case of bleacher butt. Just this weekend I logged over 16 hours of sitting in the bleachers cheering for the 7th grade boy and then the littles. This butt is bleachered. I mean for real! Not even the softest baby powder will relieve it, inside joke for my co-workers. It seems ALL the kiddos got their love of "doing something athletic" from their father. I don't know how. I was sort of hoping least one would be the nerdy singing reading writing kid like their mother. Nope. We were having a conversation the other day, the littlest and I.
Littlest:Did you play basketball,
Mom: Not after my sophomore year I needed a job.
Littlest: Volleyball?
Mom:They didn't have volleyball when I was in school.
Littlest: What? You are THAT old? How about softball or cheerleading?
Mom: Nope
Littlest: What did you do?
Mom: I sang and did oral interp.
Littlest: Oh. (clearly trying to decide what oral interp is)
So I guess what I am saying is my bleacher butt is here to stay.
Goal: Remember the stadium seats for every game!
You know that saying they are growing like weeds? Well this is a story to prove it.
In August I scored an awesome bargain on these "I can't remember the species name" Nike's at a garage sale. I made my son get out of the van and off his phone to try them on. They were at least a half of a size too big. SCORE. I was pumped $20 for the kind he liked. The colors were off but he could deal with them. I had to buy him running shoes at the same time and I was thankful he tried on the brand so I knew what size he needed. Fast forward to bleacher butt weekend. All week he complained that his feet were sore. Saying his toes hurt and his heels were rubbing. I put band aid on his blisters and made him wear double socks saying it was just him being active. At the tournament by the third game he was limping. So on Sunday night I made him show me his feet (they are huge) and noticed the big toenails were black and the blisters were worn down and bleeding on his ankle. At this moment I think to myself...could his shoes be too small? It couldn't be. That would mean his feet grew two sizes in less than 4 months. So I ask him to bring me his shoe. I make him try on his dad's shoes. They fit perfectly. I am officially the worlds worst mother. He is growing so fast. It is very very bad for a bargain hunter like me to have to buy shoes in the middle of the season. But I did. They were on sale. The color is a little off but he can deal with it...
The oldest has been looking at prom dresses and sending me screen shots for months. We have tried a few on here and there but when Grandma said we should check out a place that just got lots of new dresses on we jumped on it. Of course after trying on several she found one. She was in love with the dress. I was in love with the %75 off sign. (a few weeks ago I was saying our budget was $50, I've come a long way :() Anyway we brought the dress home. She tried it on, several times at home. She found a loose thread, She found an unraveling seam. No problem, I thought. I mean I took home economics 20 years ago from Mrs. Jennings. I can fix a seam.Two hours later I am cursing at my bleeding fingers while I am holding up the layers of the dress that my daughter has on at the moment because that is the only way I can get the fabric to lay right. I am almost in tears when I give up. I'll call a friend in the morning I tell her. I toss and I turn all night thinking I threw all my money away on this stupid dress and don't get a wink of rest. At six am the next morning I text a co-worker, probably get her out of bed and practically beg her to take a look. We show up the next day (and this is no lie) it took her longer to show me to the sewing room than it did for her to fix it. I almost KISSED her. Why did I not pay more attention in home ec? Why do I not have a fancy sewing machine? She was kind and patient with me as I almost cried. I love people. I just do. I love people and their talent and their patience.
I also love telling stories. I bet you can't wait until I am at your school!
Now I have to go wait for the Fed Ex guy. The boy needs his shoes before the game tonight. Queue aforementioned bleacher butt.
P.S. Anyone in need of a pair of mens size 11 Hyperdunk Nike's? Cheap? I'm your gal!
It was absolutely gorgeous yesterday morning. The van practically stopped itself for me to unbuckle and snap this shot. Then after work...sigh.
