So that you don’t think I’m rocking in a corner. I’m not doing that. Usually. I don’t like the resulting damage to my house when the heathens are left without supervision.
1) Matt passed his Hunter Safety Course, ensuring our likelihood of surviving the apocalypse and forever alleviating my fear of starving to death within two miles of six grocery stores. He wants to hunt turkeys. Why I have no idea because I have no intention of eating hunted turkeys although my horror was considerably lessened when I learned that a local butcher shop will accept “game” and turn it into “sterilized, packaged meat like the kind I buy at the grocery store because that is the only kind I am cooking or touching ever, thank you very much.” That’s a direct quote. Gayle has probably broken her eyeballs rolling them at me by now. Gayle lives in Alaska and I suspect she makes animals into cookable meat for fun. The big challenge of Hunter Safety was whether you could remember to unload your gun before you crossed a fence line in the “field test.”
Let me repeat that for you: The big challenge of Hunter Safety was whether you could remember to unload your gun before you crossed a fence line in the “field test.” Occasionally, I fear for the future of humanity, usually when Matt is holding a gun.
Once upon a time, Matt and I lived in Washington, D.C. and he was a lobbyist and I was a lawyer. SWEAR TO GOD.
2) My oldest children are horrid, sassy pre-teens who run cross country and roll their eyes. Garrett has not even turned seven. That happens on Friday and then they’ll both be seven and I think that’s the age that I can sell them. I’m not certain. I’ll have to check the rules. They had their very first actual, honest to goodness, competitive cross country meet. My inner toddler parent rebelled when the coach yelled “WHAT DO WE WANT TO DO?” and the answer was “WIN!!” I’m all “and be nice! and have fun! and try our best!” Ahem.
Then I asked S & G if they were excited to run a real race and they responded: “WHAT RACE? HOLY SHIT MOM WE GET TO RIDE A SCHOOL BUS!! A SCHOOL BUS, WOMAN, DO YOU HEAR? THE YELLOW KIND! BRING GATORADE, THE COACH SAYS WE HAVE TO HAVE GATORADE. ALSO SNACKS.”
Mumblemumble.Cough.Cough.mumble.mumble. WHAT?? Yes, alright. Okay. I showed up with Gatorade and snacks. I also cried when Garrett crossed the finish line because he has never voluntary moved faster than “oh holy hell Garrett can you PLEASE just MOVE a TINY bit FASTER so that my impatient, not at all living in the moment, east coast head doesn’t explode all over the nice Northwesterners. I’m pretty sure you can be jailed here for screaming “your ass is on fire and I’m going to put it out with my foot if you don’t get.in.the.damn.van.already” at your child.
(I would never scream that outside of my head.)
He finished 49th in the boys’ first grade race. I won’t say out of how many because it truly doesn’t matter, but it was a number higher than 49 by a statistically significant amount. We would have continued to love his turtle ass slow self even if he had finished dead last. He didn’t though and he tried hard and got a lot of joy out of it and it was nice to see.
Matt came late because he has to work or something. The kids were done running and he asked me quietly how Garrett did and I mouthed “NOT LAST” with the victory sign. It’s the small things.
Saige can run like Edward Cullen on steroids when she feels like it and when she doesn’t feel like it she stares at me with a death glare from hell and comes up with things to whine about along the lines of “a year ago my foot hurt and you said it was probably fine and that HURT MY FEELINGS.” (Dramatic sobbing.) She was also not last and we all rejoiced and had subs. Fine family fun.
3) I’m okay. Not great, but okay. Thanks for asking. Thanks for thinking of me. Thank you for notes and poems and love. Thank you, amorphous air pixies, for the unexpected gift of sunny days well into October. I’m sad. I keep running into normal, ordinary, everyday things that knock me over in some unexpected way and even as I cry about it, I think, what the hell? This is nonsense. But I remember that I’m sad and that’s okay for a while. I’m happy too. And I am certainly not last to so many people. xo.