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Friday, January 21, 2011

Rescue Me!

Arrrrgggghhhh! My firstborn child is going to cause me so many gray hairs and wrinkles...oh wait, he already has!

With my chauffeur hat on I begin my daily rounds of pick ups and drop offs yesterday. I get dinner fixed in record time, meatloaf and acorn squash, a true comfort food meal for me.

Zach has a 7 p.m. meeting for his high school lacrosse team and from there he has to head straight to hockey practice. I go upstairs to check on him and get him headed downstairs for dinner. He is in the shower! In the shower! Why, why, why? He is headed to hockey practice! He says he smelled bad so he needed to take a shower. Again, I ask WHY, for the love of God, WHY? Call me crazy but I don't think it is necessary to shower before heading to hockey practice. I THINK he might get smelly there!

It is 6:40. The lacrosse meeting starts at 7. Zach hasn't eaten dinner. I think he might need some kind of sustenance to get him through hockey practice. He shovels some food in his face and goes back for seconds...the dinner plate is going in the car with us. As he is shoving dinner down his throat he reminds me he has hockey pictures tonight. He goes out to pack his hockey gear in between bites of meatloaf and I remind him he needs his dark jersey. We head off to the lacrosse meeting. Finished with the meeting, we head to hockey practice.

I do my favorite dump and run technique...kick him out of the car as I squeal my tires and peel away from the hockey rink. My chauffeur hat can be hung up for the night. Ah, sigh...but wait...why is my phone ringing and why is Zach calling? I just dropped him off, I think to myself.

"Mom, I have pictures tonight," he says.
"I know," I respond, "We went over that."
"I need my dark jersey," he tells me.
Deep breath...in through my nose, out through my mouth. REALLY? "Zach, I told you to remember your jersey." I am exasperated.
"You were rushing me out the door," is his lame response. You have to understand his jersey hangs right above his hockey bag in his locker. I say a few choice words to my brilliant teenager and tell him he will just have to borrow a jersey for pictures. "I can't. We have the team picture too." Well, crap! "Can you PLEASE bring my jersey? PLEASE?" Well, crap again! Beck and call Mama to the rescue!

Ooooooooh, for the LOVE of.....my children

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