I was going to write a Daybook today because that seems to be a Monday type of thing to do but then all the other Monday things came along. So now I find myself at this computer at 8:00 pm on the deck with a glass of wine and this blank page which is not lending itself to nice, tidy categories. It's possible I'll just sit here and look at the sky and the trees and listen to the birds because SUMMER IS MY JAM, Y'ALL.
If you didn't know, it's officially the first day of summer today. Here in Northern Virginia, my car said it was 92 degrees, the sun was steamy bright, the pool was open and I didn't have to be anywhere until my 10:40 AM orthodontist appointment. We had boys - even those I didn't birth - in and out of the house all day and the smell of sunscreen hung thick in the air. My dog is now sitting next to me and he is not even jumping up on my legs and trying my patience. So all that to say, even though I have always known it, at this moment, I am 100% sure as all get out that Jesus loves me.
Our first week of summer hasn't necessarily been anything to write home about but it appears that I've decided it's something to write on my blog about so here goes.
We had Drew's 5th grade promotion which brought about more tears than I expected as I wrote HERE. Then there was the last day of school which was designated as 5th Grade Fun Day. I had signed up to help out with Kick Ball which you might imagine to be a walk in the park for most of us who grew up in PE classes and recesses across this great nation. The rules are set in stone and everyone knows how to play, right? It's a game as American as apple pie.
Listen. I know that the state of our union is really bad right now. I know that we are feeling divided and anxious about the direction this country is going to take. And I really don't mean to pile on, friends. But I'm hear to tell you that the lack of a basic understanding of Kick Ball rules among America's school children causes me some deep concern. It's a national tragedy, y'all.
Suffice it to say there has been some serious bending of the rules in Physical Education classes from sea to shining sea in the recent past. My Kick Ball Monitoring Colleagues and I were all generally the same age so we were pretty clear about the rules. We were quite alarmed when a number of students asked how many outs they were allowed. One poor child suggested that six outs would be a good number. At least 75% of the kids didn't know what a foul ball was. And the base running issues were enough to make me want to cry a river of tears.
Oh, dear, departed Forefathers. What has happened to your people?
There was even one instance where there were runners on 1st and 2nd and the kid at the plate kicked the ball. All was going well until the kid on 2nd decided not to run and the kid on 1st joined her friend on 2nd. They thought this was perfectly acceptable. They were simply going to share the base.
Not on my watch, Sister. What country do you think this is?
I will assure you that by the time the 3rd or 4th group had come through the Kick Ball station, my fellow volunteers and I had set out some fairly stern 1980s Kick Ball guidelines before that ball was rolled. Those 5th graders are just lucky that Brendan's Mom, Laney's Dad and Drew's Mom didn't tie bandanas around our heads and start yelling "Wolverines!". In the end, I think fun was had by all.
God Bless America.
On the first full day out of school Drew had a doctor's appointment during which he would have to get blood drawn so I promised him that we would go to breakfast wherever he wanted. He chose Bob Evans. Even though I was not initially thrilled with his choice, it turned out to be delightful. Besides Drew, I was the youngest person in that place by about 40 years, so I felt very energetic and full of spunk by the time we left. Incidentally, if you ever decide to give Bob Evans a go, Drew ordered the Cinnamon Supreme Hotcakes which might have been the best thing I've ever tasted in my life. I can't officially recommend them because I only took a couple of bites. Anymore than that and I might as well have downed a box of pure cane sugar.
The rest of the week was spent driving to and from baseball games, tournaments and practices. I attended a couple of high school graduation parties where I learned that the romper is the fashion statement of the summer for the majority of 17 and 18 year olds and it's pretty darn adorable. I can't tell you how many of those precious girls I had to elbow past to get to the Costco sheet cake.
This week we will work on getting the boys to help more around the house as the tasks which come with moving seem to never end. At this point, I'm simply looking toward having a kid refrain from looking at me as if I've just asked him to donate a kidney when I inquire as to whether he could bring the laundry basket upstairs.
Also, Kyle and I are obsessed with the OJ documentary on ESPN called Made in America so we will catch up on that. It's really fascinating even when you lived through it and you think you know all there is to know about it. I really can't stop thinking about it. This might be the reason that I was sure there was a dead body in the back of my car all weekend while we were away at Kyle's baseball tournament. Alas, it was just his cleats left in the car overnight.
On that note, I'm going to call Kyle down here to watch the 5th episode. We haven't gotten to the part where OJ actually gets convicted of something. And I'm going to tell you without hesitation that I will sleep better tonight once I see that at least a tiny bit of justice prevailed there.
I'll have a Summer Lovin' post coming later this week which I will write in addition to pursuing my dream to pen my first book, In Defense of 3 Outs: The Official Rules and Regulations of America's Greatest Playground Game
Have a great week, Friends!