I woke this morning at 7 a.m. to the sound of rain, which we need here in California, as we’re on the verge of a drought. After a few minutes, though, the storm let up. I got the kids out of bed and told them to get dressed for Huck’s soccer game. Off we went to the game, where about two minutes after start time, it started to pour. Once a soccer game has begun, it is rarely called off due to weather. While I had a sweatshirt, I did not have a jacket with a hood nor an umbrella (this is California, remember). Neither did my husband, my son Tom, or my 82 year-old mother-in-law, who came to see the game with us. It was, by all accounts, an excellent game of mud-ball, with Huck’s team proclaimed the victor.
At the end of the game, all of us soaked to the bone, we piled into my (formerly clean) car for the ride home. Once there, the boys showered and changed and I was left with a pile of muddy, wet soccer uniforms, shin guards, and cleats. Did I mention the wet dog, too? Oh, and the wet mother-in-law whose health can’t tolerate catching a chill and then pneumonia. It’s now 11:00 a.m, and every one is clean and dry. Laundry is in the dryer and soup is on the stove for lunch.
At 2:30, we get to do it all again for Tom’s game. Such is parenthood.
Also, today and tomorrow, Tom and Huck’s school has its annual fall carnival, complete with games, bounce houses, and dunk tanks. It’s a fundraiser for the school, and each ride or game is staffed by parent volunteers. I will be working the Margarita booth while Thoughtful Husband works the BBQ pit. You’ve already read of my Plan B if bookselling fails. Becoming a carnival worker is my Plan C.