AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!!!..... *crickets*

"True to its promise, a new kitchen disinfectant will make life easier for you, a working mother with two children. But that's only because you'll take to regularly huffing the highly toxic solvent. "

This past Saturday was chalk-full of... well let's face it... unreal expectations. Granted, this is true of most weekends since stumbling upon the grand notion of breeding... but that's a rant for another time! This particular Saturday was to commemorate our 4-year-old's official first step towards "manhood" (I'm well aware of all the irony in that statement).

Over four years ago, My 'Ol Man and I didn't possess the luxury (or, let's be honest, here: the true desire) for one of us to take on the career title of Domestic Engineer once we spawned. Thus, it was necessary to send sweet Vanaloons to an in-home daycare after my maternity leave. As the ill-alignment of the stars would dictate, he was surrounded by miniature whining bundles of "sugar & spice" and all-around theatrics. When Dr. Snicks came along, so did the impending need to move them into another facility. With that move came the hopes of less sobbingly dramatic cohorts, but no such luck. In fact, a certain Emma A. immediately gravitated towards the wee Lady-Killer and has since put quite the spell on him. I'm almost impressed at how bossy and dominating some of those pint-sized broads can be! I'll never forget walking in to pick the boys up from school and being approached by the aforementioned Miss A.. She shoves a crude glitter & glue-mucked construction paper creation in my face and declares "Here. I made this for YOUR HUSBAND". I had to really bite my tongue from blurting "Back off, Bitch, He's MINE" in retort!

So let's just assume that King Van has had minimal contact/interest with the wide world of sports. Let's further assume that his Papa had dreams of his kid(s) following in his footsteps of football, soccer, baseball, hockey, basketball, golf and any other cause to drool while perusing the overpriced aisles of Dick's Sporting Goods. This was not so much a petty machismo or chauvinistic dream - in fact, he would have been equally delighted to guide a little girl through the "joy" that is organized sports. So in direct response to the perceived calling of the street-corner advertisement for flag football, we plunked down our $115 and Mama quietly mused at what was to unfold.

My Darling Redhead was thrilled for this upcoming day of reckoning (much to the delight of Papa) and even began the countdown more than a month beforehand. It was finally the eve of this momentous occasion. Papa and his eldest son headed out to procure the "necessities" for the festivities. "We are getting you gear for football", Papa proudly exclaims. Van's eyes positively light up as he is always an eager participant where the frivolous spending of money, in his honor, is concerned. As Mama fully expected, upon their return, I heard tales of how he promptly wandered off only to return with a tennis racket. "I need this to catch the football!" "Ummm, no, son, you catch it with your hands". "Oh, OK!" Moments later, he excitedly returns with a pair of rollerblades: "Look, Papa! I MUST have these for football!"  Yeah. Clearly his tendencies to think outside the box were shining bright that evening.

The morning of the Greatest Game Ever Played, the boys were up at the crack of dawn in eager anticipation. Well, Van was eager, Dax just enjoys causing a ruckus when his parents are grasping at the elusive bitch, that is sleep. Despite having shattered my crystal ball some months before, I had already planned on staying behind with Dr. Snicks to avoid the fallout....err....so Van and Papa could have their "moment" without the accompanying Peanut Gallery.

Truly, to enroll a 4 year old in anything with any real level of expected organization attached is somewhat absurd. I still maintain that his upcoming "graduation ceremony" will unfold as hilariously as any other event where you dress animals up and expect obedience! Still, there was some glimmer of hope that the athlete-within would come bursting out at the right moment.

I'm sure you can all guess what happened next. To be fair, it wasn't catastrophic - and I rather suspected that the volunteer coaches weren't prepared to explain the game as though the audience didn't speak the language. In fact, all in all, the result was pure gold. Van had a blast. He didn't listen, he ran amok, he covered his ears anytime a ball was thrown to him, he made a habit of running the wrong way on the field and he couldn't stop messing with his mouth guard. I'd like to think that all equates to SUCCESS :). Somewhat to Papa's chagrin, he can't wait to go back. Meanwhile, I have proceeded to Google "martial arts for midgets" and other off-tangent searches. All is not lost, King Van spent most of the remainder of the weekend pounding around on the drums Papa brought home. There isn't enough Excedrin in the world - but at the end of the day, I couldn't be more proud of my boys. They quite simply kick ass and keep this Mama seriously entertained!

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Kitty

Monday, April 18, 2011

AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!!!..... *crickets*

"True to its promise, a new kitchen disinfectant will make life easier for you, a working mother with two children. But that's only because you'll take to regularly huffing the highly toxic solvent. "

This past Saturday was chalk-full of... well let's face it... unreal expectations. Granted, this is true of most weekends since stumbling upon the grand notion of breeding... but that's a rant for another time! This particular Saturday was to commemorate our 4-year-old's official first step towards "manhood" (I'm well aware of all the irony in that statement).

Over four years ago, My 'Ol Man and I didn't possess the luxury (or, let's be honest, here: the true desire) for one of us to take on the career title of Domestic Engineer once we spawned. Thus, it was necessary to send sweet Vanaloons to an in-home daycare after my maternity leave. As the ill-alignment of the stars would dictate, he was surrounded by miniature whining bundles of "sugar & spice" and all-around theatrics. When Dr. Snicks came along, so did the impending need to move them into another facility. With that move came the hopes of less sobbingly dramatic cohorts, but no such luck. In fact, a certain Emma A. immediately gravitated towards the wee Lady-Killer and has since put quite the spell on him. I'm almost impressed at how bossy and dominating some of those pint-sized broads can be! I'll never forget walking in to pick the boys up from school and being approached by the aforementioned Miss A.. She shoves a crude glitter & glue-mucked construction paper creation in my face and declares "Here. I made this for YOUR HUSBAND". I had to really bite my tongue from blurting "Back off, Bitch, He's MINE" in retort!

So let's just assume that King Van has had minimal contact/interest with the wide world of sports. Let's further assume that his Papa had dreams of his kid(s) following in his footsteps of football, soccer, baseball, hockey, basketball, golf and any other cause to drool while perusing the overpriced aisles of Dick's Sporting Goods. This was not so much a petty machismo or chauvinistic dream - in fact, he would have been equally delighted to guide a little girl through the "joy" that is organized sports. So in direct response to the perceived calling of the street-corner advertisement for flag football, we plunked down our $115 and Mama quietly mused at what was to unfold.

My Darling Redhead was thrilled for this upcoming day of reckoning (much to the delight of Papa) and even began the countdown more than a month beforehand. It was finally the eve of this momentous occasion. Papa and his eldest son headed out to procure the "necessities" for the festivities. "We are getting you gear for football", Papa proudly exclaims. Van's eyes positively light up as he is always an eager participant where the frivolous spending of money, in his honor, is concerned. As Mama fully expected, upon their return, I heard tales of how he promptly wandered off only to return with a tennis racket. "I need this to catch the football!" "Ummm, no, son, you catch it with your hands". "Oh, OK!" Moments later, he excitedly returns with a pair of rollerblades: "Look, Papa! I MUST have these for football!"  Yeah. Clearly his tendencies to think outside the box were shining bright that evening.

The morning of the Greatest Game Ever Played, the boys were up at the crack of dawn in eager anticipation. Well, Van was eager, Dax just enjoys causing a ruckus when his parents are grasping at the elusive bitch, that is sleep. Despite having shattered my crystal ball some months before, I had already planned on staying behind with Dr. Snicks to avoid the fallout....err....so Van and Papa could have their "moment" without the accompanying Peanut Gallery.

Truly, to enroll a 4 year old in anything with any real level of expected organization attached is somewhat absurd. I still maintain that his upcoming "graduation ceremony" will unfold as hilariously as any other event where you dress animals up and expect obedience! Still, there was some glimmer of hope that the athlete-within would come bursting out at the right moment.

I'm sure you can all guess what happened next. To be fair, it wasn't catastrophic - and I rather suspected that the volunteer coaches weren't prepared to explain the game as though the audience didn't speak the language. In fact, all in all, the result was pure gold. Van had a blast. He didn't listen, he ran amok, he covered his ears anytime a ball was thrown to him, he made a habit of running the wrong way on the field and he couldn't stop messing with his mouth guard. I'd like to think that all equates to SUCCESS :). Somewhat to Papa's chagrin, he can't wait to go back. Meanwhile, I have proceeded to Google "martial arts for midgets" and other off-tangent searches. All is not lost, King Van spent most of the remainder of the weekend pounding around on the drums Papa brought home. There isn't enough Excedrin in the world - but at the end of the day, I couldn't be more proud of my boys. They quite simply kick ass and keep this Mama seriously entertained!

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