This post has been brought to you VERY tardily by the following: my mentally precarious state right now; bassoon lessons; soccer; soccer tournaments; ballet and tap lessons; piano practicing; homework; a 36 hour trip to the Woodlands, Texas; and big heaping piles of puppy poop.
Isn't that crazy? Life getting in the way of me sharing my super weighty thoughts?
They aren't weighty. But there has been a lot of living going on here. For instance:
We spent Labor Day weekend - Friday afternoon to Monday night, to be precise - in Plano for a soccer tournament. I am proud to say I somehow got five children to a game at 9:30 in the morning in an entirely different area of Dallas while PVT took Keane to his game. Then the next morning, I left Phil with all the children and rode with a friend to Keane's game...we got hopelessly, pathetically lost, worried the soccer manager mom, and had a rather hilarious time.
This guy's team made it to the finals (Rory is right next to the coach) (the poor boy in the blue shirt broke his wrist in game 2!):
I texted my sisters after the game: "They lost! But our guys were tired, there was some home-cooked reffing, and the other team was pretty dirty!"
And then: "Oh my gosh I just sounded like a soccer mom."
The day we got home, PVT and I celebrated 14 years of blissful wedded-ness. Well, not really, he went to work and I got everyone ready for school and dragged my bum to the gym. But he came home and surprised me by taking me to lunch (Mex - because he is good like that)! Here was my oh-so-touching Facebook summation:
PVT: 14 years, 3 states, 3 houses, 6 delightful (occasionally not) kids, 4 angels, 5 dogs (erm), 2,483 soccer games, (1,427 margaritas...), 84,383 purchases at Nordstrom, 78,281 returns at Nordstrom...thank goodness you've stuck it out with me, even though I cry too much and buy too much. Happy anniversary. Here's to growing old and wrinkly together, and here's to hoping at least one of those kids comes to visit once dementia settles in.
Of course Phil doesn't actually go on Facebook, so he didn't see it.
Then this happened:
Yes, like her brothers and sisters before her, Margaux started attending St. Bernard's preschool. So now I have almost 10 hours per week with no kids. I have always had a newborn when I had a two year old start the preschool, and now I don't. Sniff, sniff. I feel alternately very guilty (why aren't I homeschooling like all the other good Catholic moms? Reality check: they are better mothers than I am and I would lose my sh*t.), and then sometimes I rather - well, ENJOY the time. (bows head in shame.)
Luckily I still can't go back to work. But I will volunteer a bit at the kids' schools (although the PTA intimidates me). I will go to the gym a bit (but not too much because methinks some of these hot mamas take the pursuit of the perfect bod a little too far). Maybe I will try to find a Bible study group? Goodness knows I could use an infusion of spirituality right now. I don't know. I am a super lucky mother and wife; I just need to know what to do next.
But I shouldn't be in a huge hurry to figure it all out, either.
Other news? I went to the Woodlands, Texas, for THIRTY SIX KID FREE HOURS to visit a former neighbor and dear friend while PVT toiled with the kids and dogs. This excursion requires its own post, so stay tuned. PVT, of course, did a fabulous job. Only one pan was harmed in my absence, and it was during an Oregon game, so that probably doesn't count.
And finally, our little Latina turned four on 9/11:
Ah, Sylvie. I could fill an entire blog with her antics. She may drive me to an early happy hour every other day, but this little girl has enough chutzpah and joie de vivre to light up a bus. The best part? She doesn't even know it.
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