Memoirs of a Wet Cat

I have the two most manly-beautiful, loving, caring, intelligent boys in the whole world. I could spend every waking moment with them, and it would not be enough. I love them. I do not love soccer. My love affair with soccer is equivalent to Sadie's love affair with jumping in swimming pools. Today marked day 3 of soccer, but it was game 2 already. If Nathan didn't seem to like it so much, I would've said good riddens some time ago. The people are nice. The coach is a very patient, kind man who I really believe Nathan will learn a lot from. Perhaps it has been the circumstances around soccer that are contributing the most to my disdain.

Michael does NOT like anything to do with Nathan's soccer practice/games. Annnnd, he's not shy about sharing his feelings. Sitting, watching, and NOT crossing into the field of play seem to be near impossible tasks. He does enjoy walking around the spacious school grounds with me (at least during the one non-raining soccer time so far), therefore I don't get to watch. He had a blast collecting pine cones, walking sticks, and having such a large area to explore. One time.

We've been getting a LOT of rain. I piddled around doing normal weekend chores this morning watching the online radar like a hawk. As the time went by, I assured myself that the game would be cancelled. Very colorful storm bands marched toward Houston like lines of cavalry. No worries, I thought, hoping the officials and coaches would've remembered the torrential rain we had in yesterday's afternoon commute. (I was personally grateful that the monsoon was yesterday instead of that day when my car went caput.) Surely there would be no game. We'd get drenched--obviously. The team manager mother called me to confirm that the game would go on. What? Joking to myself, I figured we'd all get dressed, packed up, in the car, and driven over there, and then they'd cancel. Ha. The show must go on. We hauled out the folding chair, the extra soccer ball for Michael to play with, the water bottle, the phone, and walked toward the playing fields. It's so encouraging when there are REALLY dark clouds pushing TOWARD you while you're balancing all of the previously listed things PLUS a wiggling 2-year-old. At least I didn't lock my keys in the car or something.

I'm a freakin' meteorology genius. Rain, rain, booms of thunder in the distance (I guess the rules are TOTALLY different than swimming pool rules when it comes to lightning and thunder), and all I am thinking is: how do THOSE ladies over there have the organizational skills to have their younger children sit beside them completely still UNDER an umbrella for this whole thing? Why does MY other son have to run around finding the numbers on the soccer fields so he can shout out, "ONE! TWO! THREE!!" In the rain? Or be ANYWHERE other than my nice folding Tech chair?--which all the chair did was collect rain water into a little folding-chair pool. Nathan couldn't even sit in it during breaks.

I got to watch maybe ten minutes of the game. Nathan said I missed his big block as the goalie and I was sorry for that. I do quite enjoy watching him running around so happily, doing something that brings him such joy. I like that. Soccer makes him so jolly.

Being a mother means sacrificing LOTS of things. There was a time when I would not have been caught dead sitting out in the rain watching (or trying to watch) a soccer game. And, if it were not for Nathan and his love for this activity, I would still not be caught dead doing it.

I am thinking about buying one of those cemetery tents to carry in the back of the van, though. Heck with the umbrellas. I wonder if they come in a collapsible version. Hmmmm.

Anyway, here are some photos from the first game (Thursday), and some others from my birthday and Easter.

If Funky Warning Light Combinations Start to Flash, THERE'S A REASON WHY

I think the universe is trying to tell me something. Nick avoided an accident this morning and by the end of the day had four new tires (needed them anyway), alignment, and something else. Maybe the tire people threw in a consolation dum-dum. Luckily ($600 later, and I'm starting with "luckily"?) Nick was safe and fine.
In another neck of the woods, riiight about the same time, my battery and emergency brake lights are flashing again. Ugh. I called Nick to gripe about finally making the decision to schedule a service appointment, and my call found him changing his own tire so he could get to the tire place. Once in my classroom, I reserved an online appointment with the dealership, and during the day I received a follow up call message to confirm.
I'd call them later.
I left school this afternoon, nestling into my drive to get the boys. Oh, whoever planted the wildflower garden in the road esplanade had vision...such a beautiful vision, and such a pleasure to look at every end of my work days. La te da. Oh, there are those blasted warning lights again. Good thing I have a call/e-mail into the service department. Stop, go, made the light under the freeway which I NEVER make. During my big turn from north to west, in an instant, my car drops to less that a quarter of its normal power. I can steer, nothing hit me, but it was stunned at a speed less than idling. By golly, I had my serviceman's direct number in my cell phone from his earlier call. How's that for timing! Also, my mileage is 29,222: YES!--it's under warranty! Wooo hooo!!! At least this would not be something else totalling $600, but perhaps I shouldn't assume anything.
As much as I love my home city, there are many places here, there, and everywhere that I would rather NOT be stuck in a dead (or coding) car. My Nissan guy paired me up with a towing company (towing? I've NEVER been towed) and we waited in Roznovsky's burger joint for its arrival. I was so glad for their existence. Barbara and Nick both came to my rescue. Between Nick's gimpy car from this morning, and my seizing van this afternoon, I was contemplating buying a horse and cart.
Tonight my mama van is probably violated. The poor baby was strapped to a tow truck (a shiny one, at least...not a dingy one) and hauled to the dealership...at least I HOPE it arrived. Safely. Without any scratches. Or anything else funky.
I felt like I had great circumstances for crummy situations today. My cars are sort of a metaphor for my own health. I don't really seek medical help for something unless there is something obviously wrong. However, when I seek the help of the professionals, it is very comforting to know there are people out there, ready to jump in to help. I hope my van is OK. Going to visit it (or at least confirm that it got to the dealership) sounds looney, but the thought did cross my mind.
I want to type about Nathan's first soccer practice, but I am so darn tired. I'll combine my soccer thoughts with tomorrow night's first game highlights. Go Transformers! Yep. Transformers.

Egg Hunting Rehearsals

There is something absolutely precious going on in my house this morning. High (not too high, just as high as a five-and-a-half-year-old can reach) and low, in the pantry, on the office chairs, on the couch cushions, on the window ledges, in the wall corners, among other places, Nathan is hiding eggs for Michael to find. They've both had their classroom Easter parties and egg hunts, and they're replaying that over and over and over right now on this restful, I-LOVE-that-Good-Friday-is-a-holiday morning. I have a sneaky feeling that the Easter bunny's arrival on Sunday might have a little less of a WOW factor, but they're just having a ball together. Each time Michael picks one up, he announces, "Easter egg," and Nathan announces the EXACT color. Once the basket is full, Michael sits on the couch while Nathan "hides" them again. Right now they're discussing the difference between light blue and baby blue. And giggling at the same time. I guess things could be worse: an outright argument over the shades of blue or something. It's really cute to listen to. Ooops, now they dropped all of the Easter "grass" all over somewhere, and Michael just commanded, "That's MINE." Aaah, the giggling moments were fun.

It was a sad day.

My heart is so heavy today. I've broken down once during school today, and I've carried this weight of sadness that I don't WANT to shake off yet. I've taught many students in my eight years in the classroom. Each child is a gift to my life's story. I may know some for only a short time, and I've kept up with a few through the years. Today I experienced a first: learning of the death of a former student. From the moment I met her, I knew she was ill. Such a delicate little body with such compounded medical conditions, she...my words escape me. I don't know how to work through this. I cannot fathom what her mother and her sister are going through. Therein lies the further compounding of the situation. Her sister has the same underlying medical condition. I can list reasons as to why her death could be a blessing: her life was plagued with hospital stays, painful procedures, recurring illnesses, immobility, weakness. Why was she put on this Earth to live such a painful life? It doesn't make sense. It isn't right for a child to suffer so much. Perhaps it does make sense. Despite her trials and pain and sickness, she touched me. I know she wasn't on this Earth for my selfish enlightenment. She seemed to affect everyone she was around. Children saw her courage and her kindness, her gentleness and her genuine spirit. They saw how determined she was to climb in and out of her wheelchair just to sit with friends on the playground, only using her arms to support her entire painstricken body. Even when I could tell she was really hurting, she was glad to see me and the other students. The children learned from her. I learned from her. I can't seem to grasp the fact that she is no longer with us.