I’m not a “night-person” so this was not surprising.
I actually began writing a post at about 7 but by 7:30 my focus was waning, as was my desire to “win” so I let it go.
So…what did you do this week-end, you may be asking…
This week-end, we attended a soccer tournament in lovely Ft. Wayne, Indiana.
OK, that’s a lie…Ft Wayne, Indiana is really not so lovely.
But I did have a lovely time with In The Coop and her 11yo son...he’s on the same soccer team as my 11yo son. The boys are the ones who played in the tournament, not the moms…lest you be confused.
And while I only had one soccer player to worry about, her family was far-flung this week-end as it was the President’s Cup Tournament. Which is actually hosted by several different clubs around the great state of Indiana.
And for reasons we have yet to determine, the location of your home club has no (apparent) bearing on where you play President’s Cup.
First Case in point: last year we played in Columbus, Indiana which is only about 40 minutes from our house. This year, we got to go to Ft. Wayne, Indiana which was 2.5 hours from home and necessitated an over-night stay.
Second Case in point (in the event I haven’t made the point clear enough): In The Coop has four children who play travel soccer for the same club. This past week-end she had one child scheduled in Ft. Wayne, one in Elkhart, one in Columbus, and one somewhere else but he ended up not playing because he broke his thumb and knocked it out of alignment. And the doctor said even rapid blood flow in his veins could push it back out…so not running/hard playing/SOCCER until it’s healed. Bummer. Point of that being…all from the same club but all four were assigned to different cities for the Cup.
Third case in point (again, in the event that you're still not getting it): we drove 2.5 hours one way and spent the night so we could play one game on Sunday against a team which is also located in Greenwood.
Does this make sense to ANYONE?!?
If it does, I frankly do not want to hear about it. I am enjoying my righteous indignation, thank you very much.
So anyway…because I am cheap, I asked In The Coop if we could split a room with her and Star (not his real name but the name she uses for him in her blog so I shall continue it).
And ride together in one car.
And be my BFF forever and ever.
OK, I didn’t ask about that last thing…mostly because I knew it was assumed by both parties and it need not be spoken aloud. (I can actually hear her eyes rolling as she reads this...that's how BFFs are...)
As an aside, sometimes I make myself laugh out loud with my writing. Not to brag, but that above paragraph prompted one of those times.
So…we were basically together from 7 on Saturday morning to about 5 on Sunday night. And I have to say (though I knew this before and had clearly forgotten), there is no better way to get to know someone than to spend that kind of quality time with them.
I never did break out in “Getting to Know You”, but it occurred to me a couple times. Fortunately I did have my filter in place…NO ONE wants to hear me sing, unless they are age 5 or younger; littles don’t usually ever care if you can carry a tune in a bucket or not. Which may be why I found such success in working with that demographic.
And now that I have the song from “The King and I” stuck in your head for the rest of the day, I will continue with my story.
So here’s a brief recap of some of the things I learned, they learned, we all learned about one another:
Apparently I have (and I quote) “A bladder the size of a cow.” This statement probably warrants an explanation…so you shall have one.
When we were approaching our destination on Saturday morning, I made a comment about stopping to use the restroom, getting a snack for the boys (of course from our coolers in the back…she’s a “pack everything you may need” kind of gal as well, so by virtue of that fact alone I figured we’d be good traveling companions), and stretching our legs.
But apparently restrooms and/or gas stations in general really aren’t in high demand in and around the greater Ft. Wayne area.
We were passing Exit 6 when I made my comment about using the restroom…and there was nothing at that exit which would have qualified as adequate for a stop. In fact, there was nothing there at all, as I recall, with the exception of a billboard claiming that Exit 19 had an Amoco touting “clean bathrooms”.
We laughed that it seemed silly to advertise for an exit so far away.
Want to guess which exit was the NEXT one with a bathroom? Oh yes…it was Exit 19. But we did NOT go to the Amoco because it was a mile away from the exit. We used a Sunoco, I believe.
Anyway, it was reasonably clean and had more than one stall per gender, so we felt like we’d hit the jackpot because we all had to go by that time…what with all the discussion of it leading up to the stop.
No one had to pee like I did, though.
So…without going into too much detail, just think “The first Austin Powers movie when they unfreeze him” and you’ll get the point. If you’re not familiar, I apologize but I just can’t bring myself to post a video.
The bottom line is that In The Coop could hear me laughing from outside the bathroom door. And remember, we went in at the same time…and she ended up outside LONG before me.
I also learned two things in the middle of the night...my 11yo really grinds his teeth and he talks a lot in his sleep.
And I also learned that my friend can scold children in her sleep with no trouble at all. For the details on that you'll need to go here.
In the course of the trip, she learned that I don't care much for hotels.
My family can tell you about how I have been known to take a large can of Lysol with me on vacation.
But I will be the first to admit that I was pretty impressed with the Courtyard by Marriott where the team manager had reserved our rooms.
It was both clean and affordable.
And I'm pretty certain that it was only affordable because a) it was split between two families and b) it was located in Ft. Wayne, Indiana...not exactly a booming metropolis.
But I will say that the entire hotel appeared to be booked for the weekend: several soccer teams, some swim teams, and some bikers.
No, no not cyclists...bikers. Big burly men (and some big, burly women) who wore lots of black leather and had loud bikes.
Bikes which they parked out in front of the hotel. And revved…at all hours of the night, completely unconcerned with the gaggles of children sleeping inside.
Fortunately for us, our room overlooked the baseball field.
But unfortunately for my friend CS and her son, their room was on the opposite side of the hotel…the side where the street, and the bikes, were. They had to listen to engines, yelling and loud music all night.
Calls to the front desk made no difference. Apparently "security" for the hotel was unable to do anything.
And while we're not really in the topic of cleanliness of hotel rooms, let me bring this story back around to my initial goal of telling you what my friend learned about my general disdain for hotels: I don't really do hotels well.
I had held it together because I had to. And mostly because the room (as previously stated) was quite clean.
But the morning in which we were going to check out of said hotel, my son decided it would be funny to touch me with his foot.
Now I must explain that I don't typically mind feet.
Even 11yo boy feet, so long as they are reasonably clean.
And his probably were….he hadn’t been playing soccer or running around in the heat, so I assumed as much.
But my issue was not the feet themselves.
It was the still-damp-from-sweat-the-night-before, stinky socks he'd put on because we didn't play our second game (notice my ownership in the games I had nothing to do with) until 6:30 Saturday night; then we went straight to dinner and didn't get back to the room until after 10.
And because I knew ahead of the trip about the busy evening schedule for Saturday night, PERHAPS my son had been instructed to pack an extra pair of black socks to avoid this scenario.
But he did not.
So...he wrestled the damp, stinky socks onto his feet.
And then he stretched across the bed to touch my arm with his foot.
At which point I jumped and dropped the lid to my lipgloss.
Onto the floor.
The HOTEL floor.
And it rolled under.the.bed.
Clearly to me (and everyone else) I was finished with that tube of lipgloss. My son, whom I made get down on the floor to retrieve because no way was I getting on the floor and I'd rather be covered in wolf spiders (a reference from a story by In The Coop from the weekend...she really has the best stories, but I did NOT learn that this week-end; I've known for a while that she has the best stories) than look under a hotel bed, tried to convince me that I could wash the lid off.
I'm sorry but no amount of bleach, sanitizer or disinfectant would convince me to put said lid back onto something I would rub across my lips.
So though it was basically a new lipgloss, into the trash it went.
This talk of stinky socks brings me to another point...I learned something else about boys.
And yes, I am making a sweeping generalization here.
Also, before you say anything, let me say that I am well aware that I have two boys. But they aren't BOTH overly-stinky.
Just the one is…due to this lovely little thing called hormones. I totally get that.
And I know that the 10yo will have his day.
Wahoo…I can’t wait for that.
I am well-aware that everyone goes through it so believe me when I assure you all that I am not calling out my son or anyone else.
It's part of growing up. Not a great part but a part nonetheless.
So...since I only have one stinky boy in my house, I was admittedly (and dare I say blissfully as well) unaware that tween boy funk in a hotel room increases exponentially when added to other tween boy funk.
I'm going to leave it at that.
And one last thing from the week-end I learned about myself: I can still drive on the interstate.
Over time, I had somehow let the circle in which I primarily drive be whittled down to about a five mile radius. And it did not include speeds of over 45MPH. It was not my plan, but there you go…it is what happened.
And then I became reluctant, dare I say nervous, to drive on the interstate.
But I didn’t want to be that way, so when the opportunity arose, I took it.
So this week-end, I drove the whole time.
In The Coop offered profusely but I declined. Better she navigate and I drive. I am worse at navigation than I am at driving on the interstate.
Glad I married a geography major…who still doesn’t understand why I can’t remember how to get to places outside my five mile radius.
And if you don’t either, don’t judge.
I'm sure that no one is happier to read this last part than my family with whom I'll be traveling out west this summer and I will now be expected/allowed to drive.
Well, one thing I clearly did NOT learn this week-end was how to write succinctly. Or how to wrap my writings up with a nice little bow.
So I’m pulling the rip cord again…thanks for joining me for yet another rambling post! Have a fabulous day!
|Not a photo from this week-end but still a good one nonetheless...at least it's from this season!|