The minute I walked in the door this afternoon, a strange sense of restlessness greeted me. On the surface, everything appeared to be at peace. My husband had been scrubbing, wiping, and tidying up the entire morning. Theoretically, I was walking into every woman's dream; I should have made myself a margarita and propped my feet up on the fingerprint-free coffee table. But, something unsettled was stirring around, disrupting the serenity that should have welcomed me. "C'mon, let's go! Your folks are waiting and there's traffic", H. said just as I had decided to ignore the air of restlessness that was disrupting my dream. "OK. Give me a sec, I just walked in", I replied, starting to get the overnight gear ready, disappointed that that margarita was gonna have to wait. I could tell right away that I wasn't moving fast enough; H. was starting to break out in a sweat and the boys kept looking at their watches. Alright already I mumbled to myself, promising the pouting child inside my head I'd get her a drink as soon as I figured out why the adult me was having to rush around like madwoman. I mean, we had the whole afternoon. Granted, the roads were a bit conjested, but I surely had enough time to sit for a spell and enjoy my sparkling abode that I didn't raise a finger cleaning? Didn't I? I looked around the living room -at the boys waiting at the door, H. taptaptapping his fingers on his thighs, at our cat who had packed himself in his carrying case-, and answered my own question with a defeated, but very definite, "NO!!"

Sitting in the car and pulling out of the driveway, I looked at the men in my family. Everysinglesolitary one of them, even Mikey the cat, was smiling. Relaxed. Centered and totally not the crazy people who had just forced me to pack at a pace that was not healthy for any woman, let alone one that had just had her house cleaned BY SOMEONE ELSE! What was up? Why the change? Had they made themselves margaritas while I was throwing things madly into overnight bags?

Then. It dawned on me. I couldn't help but smile. The World Cup. After a three-day break. The World Cup was back on and the boys (all four of them) were chasing games. Well, surely I couldn't let on that I'd failed to register this small fact; what kind of mother would I be? So, I grabbed H.'s arm, and screamed at the top of my lungs, "Pedal to the metal, Baby! We gotta make it to my folks' before kick-offfff".

Hooray for the World Cup. Hooray for knowing that 90% of the world is sitting, fixed to a t.v., eating unhealthy food, shouting madly at people who can't hear them. Hooray for a game that crosses barriers and ignores color, race, and religion. Hooray for soccer!