Ohmygosh! I keep forgetting to link to my Mamalode posts, which is terrible because it’s an awesome site and I’ve been writing a lot of new stuff there – on Fridays in case I haven’t mentioned that one or two times already. Thanks so much for following me over there and reading, I love you for it. I love you even if you don’t, for that matter, for all of the connection and discussion and support I’ve found writing my thoughts out here.
Simmer down. Settle in, my inner voice soothes. Think family movie nights. Think cozy fires. Think holidays. Longing for brown lizards on logs, lazy afternoons hunting beach glass, and bonfires to the beat of the waves on the reef will only make you bitter, but I fight a different winter picture of snotty children cooped up too many long, dark days and a chill so deep that my shoulders hurt from hunching. Mornings that bite your fingers bloody with ragged teeth and claw the inside of your nose raw.
No doubt nature knows best with her long sleep and spring renewal, but hibernation with children is overrated. … from The Darkest Night at Mamalode.
Ohmygosh! Something else! I’m in a book. I know. Squeeeaaaallll. So many good things have happened in my life because of blogging – and honestly this is the least of them, dealing gracefully with devastating sadness is another – but this one is really special because it’s a book with pages and everything. Digital pages, technically, but still.
My essay “Thoughts” is included in the BlogHer ’12 Voices of the Year eBook. It’s available for Kindles and iWhatevers and here are the links to download it:
Which, you know, probably no one will except my father, who better because I’m in there.
We went to a hockey game last night. It started – STARTED! Did you hear?! – at seven and I actually let the kids stay up and go. Who the hell am I and why am I in a freezing cold ice arena at 8:30 with my damn children? It was fun, mostly. The boys loved the game and Nate loved deafening music. Saige loved the $1.00 nachos and cocoa. We all have our weaknesses.
Yay! Indoor athletic events for which we have to bundle up like Eskimos and huddle around hot, sticky drinks while loud music blares and teenagers beat the shit out of each other. My favorite! (Not my favorite, but when I married an outdoorsy, mountain-type who apparently loves the cold and bore him three mountain-type sons who love things like hockey, I sealed my own fate. I don’t know what to tell you about the poor little tropical island girl. I feel her pain. She really likes cocoa.)
Half way into the second period, a teenager in a white jersey body checked a teenager in a blue jersey right into the plexiglass where Garrett’s head pressed against it. The resulting goose egg was impressive. He thought that was freaking awesome. Then, a fight started on the ice and the Rockies’ player was beating the living snot out of the hometown Braves’ kid and I couldn’t believe it because no one was doing a damn thing. The referees stood there and watched. So, I sensibly screamed at Matt while beating on his shoulder (like I do whenever I don’t understand a sporting event, which is often because I don’t really give a shit), “what the HELL, why don’t they stop this? what is going on? why are they just watching. this is awful. OMIGOD! THOSE ARE SOMEONE’S BABIES!!!”
Matt took the time to glance around at the other fans apologetically before explaining to me that this was “pro-rules” hockey and in “pro-rules” hockey they don’t stop fights until someone falls down.
“?Like dead?” All things seemed possible at that point.
“No.” (Said in a tone that suggests that I have asked the dumbest question in the history of dumb sports questions.)
“Well? Oh God. Fall down! Fall down little white jersey boy! Why doesn’t he fall down?”
I am officially not a fan of the boys playing hockey under “pro-rules” or “non-pro-rules” or any rules except mine, which do not allow for any one to hit my baby boys until they fall down. But I’m pretty sure I lost this battle before it began.
Why couldn’t they stay in this kind of padding forever?