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"Saturday... in the Park..."
It has been one of those days today. It's actually beautiful outside, and I've been out since about 9 am, because it's still soccer season, and Mr. Impossible's game was at 10. His team won, by the way, 5-0, and doesn't it feel weird to yell, "Go Slytherins! Yay, Slytherins, you can do it!!"
Well, they are the green team, after all.
The Asthma Monster reared its pointy little head today and wouldn't go away, no matter how I tried shooing it. I spent my time huddled in my chair, rather than prowling the sidelines with my camera, as I usually do. I cheered, though, as much as possible.
The Impertinent One's game was at 1, and they didn't play like they usually do. Everyone was sort of... off. In an odd bit of synchronicity, they LOST 5-0. I tried to walk the sidelines, taking shots with my camera, but... after a while, I ended up in my chair.
Funny side note, though. Mrs. Insane's son missed the last game, and hasn't been to practice in all this time, about three weeks or so. Today, he showed up for the game, so we actually had a substitute (yes, our kids have been playing games with no subs, so they play the entire game with no breaks. We're talking 30 minute halves, people). It showed that he hadn't been to practice. *sigh*
I looked around for his parents, but didn't see them until near the end of the game, when Mrs. Insane came up and said, "Isn't it time for this game to be over already? It's after 2, you know, this half has been extremely long, isn't it going into overtime?"
I blinked and said, "Each half is 30 minutes long."
"This game started at 1, and it's 2:20 already! Does the referee need a watch? I could lend him mine..."
"The game started at 1:15. The first half ended at 1:45, and there was a ten minute break for water and snacks. The second half started at 1:55. It's 2:21, there's four more minutes in this half," I said calmly.
"Well, I think I should speak to the coach or the coach's wife about this, because this game has gone on far too long! It was supposed to start at one, and I'm sure I don't know why it started so late!"
I cleared my throat. "And what time did y'all get here?"
"One twenty!" said a chorus of parents (including some from the other team) before she could so much as open her mouth.
I smiled into her shocked face. "Which is why you don't know why the game started so late."
It was at that moment that she realized who I was, and beat a hasty retreat.
Turns out she, her husband, and their other children spent almost the entire game sitting in their car. Because they didn't want to expose their kids to my unstable, psychotic husband. Yeah, that's what she told Mrs. Coach. Who said, "You should be really careful throwing those terms around. THO is too nice to do it, but I think even his patience and tolerance can be pushed too far, and you might find yourselves being sued for libel or defamation of character or something."
I enjoyed the woman's horrified expression far too much to point out that we really wouldn't have much of a case. And it would be a complete waste of time. She scuttled back to the car with her son, shouting at him when he tried to get THO to buy a raffle ticket for his church.
That's the truly sad thing in all of this. Her son genuinely likes THO. He thinks THO is really cool, and has appreciated THO's taking the time to explain things to him. THO said if he had had the cash on him, he might have bought a raffle ticket just to tick Mrs. Insane off. When we got back to our car, we saw the Insanes had parked nearby, and THO watched them thoughtfully as he loaded our chairs in the back of the minivan. "Wasn't he supposed to... do something about me?" he said, jerking his chin toward Mr. Insane.
"Oh, that's right!" We watched them back frantically out of their parking space and drive off in a hurry. "I guess what he has decided to do is flee."
And now I am in bed. Yes, a very interesting day. We shall just see how it goes from here.
Well, they are the green team, after all.
The Asthma Monster reared its pointy little head today and wouldn't go away, no matter how I tried shooing it. I spent my time huddled in my chair, rather than prowling the sidelines with my camera, as I usually do. I cheered, though, as much as possible.
The Impertinent One's game was at 1, and they didn't play like they usually do. Everyone was sort of... off. In an odd bit of synchronicity, they LOST 5-0. I tried to walk the sidelines, taking shots with my camera, but... after a while, I ended up in my chair.
Funny side note, though. Mrs. Insane's son missed the last game, and hasn't been to practice in all this time, about three weeks or so. Today, he showed up for the game, so we actually had a substitute (yes, our kids have been playing games with no subs, so they play the entire game with no breaks. We're talking 30 minute halves, people). It showed that he hadn't been to practice. *sigh*
I looked around for his parents, but didn't see them until near the end of the game, when Mrs. Insane came up and said, "Isn't it time for this game to be over already? It's after 2, you know, this half has been extremely long, isn't it going into overtime?"
I blinked and said, "Each half is 30 minutes long."
"This game started at 1, and it's 2:20 already! Does the referee need a watch? I could lend him mine..."
"The game started at 1:15. The first half ended at 1:45, and there was a ten minute break for water and snacks. The second half started at 1:55. It's 2:21, there's four more minutes in this half," I said calmly.
"Well, I think I should speak to the coach or the coach's wife about this, because this game has gone on far too long! It was supposed to start at one, and I'm sure I don't know why it started so late!"
I cleared my throat. "And what time did y'all get here?"
"One twenty!" said a chorus of parents (including some from the other team) before she could so much as open her mouth.
I smiled into her shocked face. "Which is why you don't know why the game started so late."
It was at that moment that she realized who I was, and beat a hasty retreat.
Turns out she, her husband, and their other children spent almost the entire game sitting in their car. Because they didn't want to expose their kids to my unstable, psychotic husband. Yeah, that's what she told Mrs. Coach. Who said, "You should be really careful throwing those terms around. THO is too nice to do it, but I think even his patience and tolerance can be pushed too far, and you might find yourselves being sued for libel or defamation of character or something."
I enjoyed the woman's horrified expression far too much to point out that we really wouldn't have much of a case. And it would be a complete waste of time. She scuttled back to the car with her son, shouting at him when he tried to get THO to buy a raffle ticket for his church.
That's the truly sad thing in all of this. Her son genuinely likes THO. He thinks THO is really cool, and has appreciated THO's taking the time to explain things to him. THO said if he had had the cash on him, he might have bought a raffle ticket just to tick Mrs. Insane off. When we got back to our car, we saw the Insanes had parked nearby, and THO watched them thoughtfully as he loaded our chairs in the back of the minivan. "Wasn't he supposed to... do something about me?" he said, jerking his chin toward Mr. Insane.
"Oh, that's right!" We watched them back frantically out of their parking space and drive off in a hurry. "I guess what he has decided to do is flee."
And now I am in bed. Yes, a very interesting day. We shall just see how it goes from here.