J and I Declutter. M Loses and Wins.

So, first: the rest of our weekend was good. J and I ordered Thai food and watched Legally Blonde, which had aged better than many old “goofy classics” that I tell the girls that they should watch. J was a big fan of bruiser.

J and I also did a massive amount of organizing around the house. One of the good things about hosting people, at least for me, is that when I envision everyone crowded into our cozy little house, it instantly stimulates my Decluttering Gland, and next thing you know I’m reorganizing kitchen shelves and culling through our book collection and finally just throwing away that Heineken bottle coozie, because who freakin’ needs it? And then I feel fantastically cleansed.

J was an enthusiastic participant, tidying our back closet, which is almost always a mess; raking leaves; and vacuuming the basement playroom. Although she politely declined my offer to “let” her clean the downstairs bathroom.

Meanwhile rain and wind delayed M’s (losing) games, so she and Cute W only arrived home after the soccer banquet was done. Then she was so swamped with homework that she begged off going at all. And I thought in my head, “But, what if you win an award? Or inherit a candle?” This is because they have this weird, sorority-like tradition in which the senior soccer players pass down a candle to an underclassman at the end of the season, complete with a little speech about why they’ve chosen this particular friend and who-all has had the candle before them. And some of the candles have been passed down for decades, and it’s this weirdly big deal. Especially when the girls–and parents, too–talk about how you have to be careful about whom you pass your candle to, because if the girl who’s received your candle decides to quit school soccer, then [here’s where you should whisper the rest] that. candle. dies. But of course, I didn’t say anything about awards or candles, because that would be presumptuous.  And really, M was making the mature choice, because even though she’d crammed in homework over the weekend, she still had two tests to study for and obligations literally all day on Monday.

Well, sure enough, she got an award and a candle. And I am so bummed that I missed it! I know that it is dorky, but it’s true. I’d have to say that one of my very favorite activities in the whole entire world is to listen to people talk about how one of my children is awesome. Even better in a formal setting, in front of a crowd. That doesn’t happen that often, you guys. I totally would have sat through multiple speeches and listened to the coach that crushed her varsity sophomore dreams and eaten mediocre buffet food for the opportunity to listen to people stand at a podium for 4 minutes talking about my child being wonderful. And, like, that was her one and only chance to get a candle. I know, you guys. I am a dork. Someone told me that the speech the candle-giver was “really sweet,” and maybe someone videotaped it,  but I haven’t heard of any, like, names. You would have thought with all these kids on social media, someone would’ve documented the presentation for M, but I guess not. And the award is the same one that she got last year, the Warrior Award for fitness and competitiveness, except last year there was actually a 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place, and I have asked both M and a friend, “Was it 1st or 2nd or 3rd?” and  “Who else won?” and I have received no answers and now I have to just STFU because I am sounding like someone who is weirdly obsessive about awards. But still. Last year there was a certificate. This certificate has not materialized yet. Nor has the candle, actually, and that’s a big deal, because M is supposed to cherish and protect it, like one of those egg babies they used to make kids carry around for home ec.

That was the weekend. I meant to talk about getting ready for Thanksgiving, but I didn’t realize that I had that little mini-rant about the banquet burbling within me. So, next time.