Location: Colorado, United States

    35-year-old mother of two, wife of one, instructor at a university and free-lance writer, editor, researcher. I promise, I'm more fascinating than this "about me" and my favorites.

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Sunday, November 06, 2005

Welcome to the working week

Weekends are supposed to be about resting, relaxing, rejuevenation (I'm sure there are more R words, but they're not coming to me). Not this weekend. The first post-soccer weekend was filled with two birthday parties (one that Max was invited to at 8:45 a.m. on Saturday, the other Madison at 5 p.m. on Saturday).

At the first party I climbed the inflatable slide and zoomed down. In the process giving myself the inflatable, rubber version of a rug burn on my elbow.

At the second party, Madison didn't want to jump into the giant pit of foam cubes, so I played Mommy to the rescue and jumped in to prove it was safe. Sure, it's safe if you're five. If you're 35 and large, it's a pain. I laid there for one or two minutes (an eternity in my mind as other moms stood on watching), wondering how in the world I was going to get myself out of this giant pit. It took some time and more physical exertion than you would believe, but I got out. Apparently jumping into a pit of foam cubes earns you a lot of street cred with the five-year-old crowd because a classmate wanted me to play ball with him on the trampolines. I bounced and passed until I decided perhaps I should have donned some Depends before I got in there because all that bouncing was creating an undeniable urge to pee. (No apparent damage was done to my body, and I did feel pretty awesome to be the only mommy to get into the trampoline and foam with the kids.)

Apparent injury number two came tonight as I pulled a frozen pizza from the oven. Yup, my hand hit the door long enough to sizzle and leave a blister. So my second "burn" in as many days. And the thing about burns is that they, well, burn. For a really long time. And I can't remember what conventional wisdom is about blisters: to pop or not?

And here's potential for more unseen injuries: We joined a gym last week. Got a great annual deal, so we couldn't pass it up. Brent and I went today so he could show me the ropes. I didn't overdo it, but when you haven't touched weights (other than 50 pounds of child times two) there's no such thing as NOT overdoing it. I lifted and pushed and showed off a little to Brent. This is one of those serious gyms with serious equipment and serious people there. I was intimidated by all of it. But the money's been paid for the next year, so we'll see how it goes.

I'm afraid to go to sleep tonight because I don't think it's going to feel very good to be me when I wake up tomorrow.

posted by Laura at 9:03 PM |


Commented by Blogger Bobo:

It is amazing what earns "street cred" with little kids. I coached 5 yo soccer this fall and was kind of floundering until I found a game called Kick the Coach. Yes, I ran around in a small circle while 20 of them tried to pelt me with their balls. And if they hit me? I had to make the sound of any animal that they asked. I spent most Saturday mornings making monkey sounds while shocked moms and dads drank coffee on the sidelines.

I'm sure the parents thought I was an absolutely moron but the drill taught them to pass the ball at a moving target and they absolutely loved it.

1:27 PM 

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