Super Bowl Wrap Up (Mostly Commercials)

My Niners lost, which was a tragedy.

Especially because we didn't get to see them lose. We had DVRed the game and the dashingly handsome sidekick had scheduled a half hour of cushion time at the end. Which usually would have been enough. However, with the lights fiasco, we missed the last four minutes. *sobs uncontrollably*

But at least we got to see all the COMMERCIALS. Here are my faves:

• Leon Sandcastle made me laugh out loud 

• Budweiser Clydesdale made me cry (real tears)

• And I wonder how many future YA novels will be inspired by the Audi commercial 

Honorable Mentions go to:

• M & Ms

• And every librarian's favorite

Did you watch the Super Bowl? Which commercial did you like best? ... And which do you prefer, cookie or cream? (I'm definitely a cream girl.)

Changelings and Other Stories

We're back. What a crazy time.

But it was good. Tonight at dinner my eldest said, "It was fun just being with Mommy on our trip. And we got to save money when we ate out because there weren't so many of us."

Yes, Olivia and I had a great time on our trip to Portland. The appointment went well. And we found out Olivia will be getting braces soon, something she is very excited about, believe it or not.

But that was several days ago now. Ancient history. A past life. In between then and now we were in Boise, Idaho at football camp.

Boy, oh boy!

We had fun, but I am exhausted. There's something about spending three days with four children who all take turns throwing temper tantrums that just clobbers you.

I gave them all nicknames for this trip. Here they are:

I'm Not Getting Enough Sleep Girl: This is the four-year-old who I had to wake up at 9a.m. every morning because the hotel breakfast closed down at 9:15. This is the four-year-old who laid on the floor of the breakfast lobby and screamed her lungs out because I didn't give her chocolate milk in her cereal. Chocolate milk? Are you serious? I've never even heard of that before!

I Hate Football Boy: This is the six-year-old changeling who went from being sweet, adorable, wonderful boy one minute to screaming, kicking, spitting boy the next. Why the change? Because I told him it was time to go watch some scrimmages at football camp. The boy's argument: "I hate football! I hate watching football! It's boring!" My response: "We came all the way to Boise to watch football! Why do you think we came all the way here!" The boy literally snarled at me, ran away from me, and hid in a corner, stiffening all his joints so he was almost impossible to move. Boy: "I'm not going!" Me: "Oh yes you are!" He attempted to punch me on more than one occasion. When he later regained his right mind, I reminded him that nice boys don't hit their mommies. Note: This happened every single time we headed over to the stadium. Once he got there he was fine. Go figure.

Anti-Personal Hygiene Girl: This is the eight-year-old who loves to swim in the pool, but later complains about itchy rashes because she will not take a shower to get off the chlorine. My advice: Next time you swim, we're taking a shower. The time to shower arrived. This eight-year-old was reminded to take a shower. This eight-year-old resisted and had to be dragged kicking and screaming (I'm not exaggerating) into the bathroom and had to be held under the streaming shower by a mother who was even more determined than she was.

Mine Baby: Everything to this 1.5-year-old is "No, Mine!". The gumball her brother just got out of the machine is hers. Me: "No, honey, you're too little for gum." Temper tantrum. Whatever toy any other sibling is playing with is hers. Me: "No, honey, they are having a turn now." Temper tantrum. At least this one I was expecting, because, you know, she's a toddler.
And she's still small enough to hold in my arms while she kicks and screams. That I can manage.

Moral to the story: Travelling as a "single" mom (ie. temporarily minus the dashingly handsome sidekick who was busy coaching football) with four kids is not for wimps.  I would be ready for early retirement, if that were an option in my contract. But it's not. And I guess I wouldn't want it to be.

Wonderful things about this trip?

I got to see the dashingly handsome sidekick a lot more than I would have if we'd stayed home. Big plus.

I got to go to Boise. Beautiful city. Loved the Capital Building. And they have beautiful parks. The drive was also very pretty.

I didn't have to cook.

The atmosphere at the camp was so cool. It was fun to see all the different teams jumping around acting macho. I loved their chants, especially during the Challenge on the Blue. (The Boise State field is colored a bright blue, so the teams would challenge each other "On the Blue." It was sort of like a gladiator match or a giant, organized street fight, with all the players standing around in a big ring with scrimmages going on inside. Electrifying experience, even as a spectator.)

All our kids received presents of Boise state shirts from Grandpa. And BSU quarterback Kellen Moore (former Prosser Mustangs QB, mind you) was there to sign them all! Even Gabe was exuberant, despite the fact that he "hates football."

It's good to be home. I'll be catching up for a few days, I'm sure. Hope you all are doing well. Thanks for all your thoughtful comments on the blog last week. They meant a lot.

Selfishly

Thursday was the last football practice of the year.

I don't like being selfish. Everyone knows I love Prosser football, and it would have been awesome to see the Mustangs go all the way to the King Bowl. I would have been in the Tacoma Dome cheering louder than anyone.

But.

Selfishly, I don't mind having Friday nights free.

Selfishly, I don't mind when my husband rides into the driveway on his bike at four o'clock instead of seven or eight or ten.

Selfishly, I don't mind when he's there every night when the kids go to bed.

Selfishly, I don't mind when he tells me, "Maybe we should start going on a date once a week." (Ooh la la!)

Selfishly, I'm glad to get my husband back.

It's sad because this is the first time in twenty-two years the Mustangs haven't been in the playoffs. I'm sad for my brother-in-law who's in his first year of head coaching here.

But I don't feel sad for myself and I don't feel sad for my kids. Abruptly I find I can breathe again without gasping, float on my back with my toes pointing at the sky, stare at the blue overhead expanse without panicking, without feeling like I'm sinking into Life too deep, pulled too many ways by too many small people with Agendas -- and transition issues.

The Mustangs can go to the playoffs next year, when we're adjusted, settled, and everyone's a year older.

That's how I feel. Selfishly.

Friday Night Lights

I didn't miss out on much growing up in Hong Kong. My life was full, rewarding.

But I did miss out on one notable thing: High School American Football.

Now I'm making up for it.

We're in full-swing football season here in Prosser. The red and white varsity Mustangs play every Friday night, and freshmen play on Monday. So, that's our lives right now: Monday and Friday at the Art Fiker stadium, watching Daddy coaching from the sidelines, cheering on our new team.

Last Friday night a girl rode a horse (yes, a real live horse) across the field before the game started. She must've been a talented equestrian because she held the pole of an enormous flag, unfurled behind her in the September breeze.

Every time the Mustangs score (which is a lot because they're good), a guy at the top of the stadium rings a huge bronze bell. Last week that bell rang seven times. Because we were busy spanking Redmond.

Ever since I went to my first football game at PLU twelve years ago, I've loved watching football. Good thing, too, because now it's ... life.

I sit in the stands on my little PLU seat cushion, bouncing a baby on my knee, stuffing french fries out of a Burger King bag into my mouth. We all take trips up and down the stairs for bathroom visits. The kids sip at my super-sized Dr. Pepper. The evening cools, the kids get tired. I hear, "When are we going home?" Gabe lies face down on an empty bench. I make a mental note to bring a sleeping bag next time.

So, no, I guess this isn't a real high school experience. It's high school plus four kids. But the Friday night lights are bright and there's a coach down there who's pretty cute. I think I'm going to like being the Mustang's #1 fan.