July 02, 2010
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!