Monday, July 23, 2012

To the Mother in WalMart with the Screaming Child...

... I'm sorry.
It's a good thing I'm cute!
I'm sorry I judged you to quickly.

I'm sorry that at the sight of your disheveled hair,
clad in your 1972 floral pint muumuu,
with mismatched socks,
I judged you.

I'm sorry that while your child lay on the ground,
feet flying up in the air,
turning blue in the face from screaming so hard,
I judged you.

I'm sorry that while you looked upon your prostrate child,
fingers wrapped firmly around the handle of your cart,
awkwardly smiling at the spawn of your youth,
I judged you.

Because I did not know.

I'm sorry that I did not know that this particular morning,
you did not start off with the waking though,
'I'm going to ROCK that floral print Muumuu'.

I'm sorry that I did not know you spent a great many moments pouring over your nice clothes,
your blouses, skirts, slacks, even little summer dresses,
and pulled out the most pretty little summer dress you could find.

I'm sorry that I did not know you floated down the stairs only to be greeted at the bottom,
with a peanut butter smile, and jelly sticky hands,
and while they pressed into your pretty summer dress you hugged your child back, peanut butter stains and all, leaving you with nothing to wear, except that 1970 floral pint muumuu.

Because I had not seen.

Because I had not seen that look upon my own face,
that awkward smile, which I now know as a grimace of pain.

Because I had not seen your knuckles white while holding the cart,
for fear if you let go, your fingers would find your child's neck.

So I am sorry I judged you, too quickly to be fair.

For now I have seen, and I do indeed know, and I shall not judge anymore.
And if by chance, I happen upon thee, I shall smile the smile of a parent who is not thus.

And now, I must away, for alas, my lovely child is busy thrashing on the floor, crying, screaming, yelling, probably over something so horrible, so wretched, so vile, as having to close his bedroom door.

Alas and alack, alas and alack...

PS:  It's a good thing kids are cute... I think it is a natural defense mechanism.   :-)

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Just Call me Coach... again...

Soccer Coordinator (SC):  Wow, it says here that you're coaching... 3 teams?
Me:  Yup.
SC:  On purpose?
Me:  Yup.
SC:  Wow... uh, why?
Me:  Well, our youngest just came home from China about 6 months ago, so he can't really speak much English yet.  So I have to coach him.
SC:  Un-huh...
Me:  And then our send youngest, well, if I'm coaching the youngest, you know I'm gonna have to coach her as well.
SC:  Un-huh...
Me:  And then the 3rd one is playing on the same night as the 2nd, so I'm at the field anyway...
SC:  Are you sure you're up for this?
Me:  What?  Are you kidding?!  Absolutely!  It will be great.
SC:  Why is your eye twitching?
Me:  No reason.  No reason.
*awkward silence*
SC:  Did your wife sign you up to coach all 3 teams?

So yea, just call me Coach... again.  It's been a pretty fun year.  I did coach 3 teams this year... which was a record.  I think any other year, I was only ever coaching two of our 27 children at one time.

Coaching Bing's team was... awesome.  Yea, coaching U3 soccer is kinda like trying to herd cats... but not normal cats.  No cats who have broken in to the catnip lock up at the local po-po station, and then chased it down with a few cans of Red Bull.

I liked what one of the other coaches said to me as we were wrapping up tonight.  She grabbed my arm, and looked a little shell shocked as she asked...
Other U3 Coach (OU3C):  Do you think, do you think that... you know, anyone was... dissapointed?
Me:  Nah, I think the parents have come to understand what U3 soccer is.
OU3C:  Oh, phew... good.  Cuz you know, I'm a teacher, and I'm not used to this.  I'm used to a little more...
Me:  ... structure?
OU3C:  Yeeeeeesssss!  That's it!  Structure!
Me:  Yea, previous years I tried adding more structure, but really, it dosn't matter.  I think at this age, they are good for about 15 minutes, then they are done... no matter how you run the practice.
OU3C:  Oh good.  And I'm sorry about my kid.
Me:  Your kid?  Oh gosh.  Was he puching you, kicking, scratching and on the ground screaming most weeks?
OU3C:  Uh, no.
Me:  Then he did good.  Don't worry about it.  It would be a LOT easier if my child wasn't here.
Me:  It's because they know... your kid knows that they can be naughty and there is nothing you can do.  It's like, 'You can't get mad at me!  There are too many witnesses!'.

Ahhhhh well, another year almost done, and can't wait for next year.  :-)

Friday, July 13, 2012

My Side of the Story

Hello, it's me, the cat.  I know, you are all honoured that I'm taking time out of my busy day of sleeping, eating and sleeping to grace you with my words.

Recently, it has been brought to my attention, that a certain someone has blamed me for chewing the power cord to the internet modem, or trying to kill the Yeti.  Thusly causing all sorts of problems for my servan... er, family.  I felt that maybe I should set the record straight and let you all who what really happened.

See, I've been a cat, well, for my whole life.  And I remember how I came to own these humans.  Yes, my sister (bless her soul) and I were born in a garage.  This garage happened to be the Yetis garage.  And life was good, but after a few days, our mother started carrying us out of the garage, and back to our real home... a farm down the street.

Well, wouldn't you know it, all of a sudden, Mrs Yeti comes into the garage, all shocked and horrified that some of my brothers and sisters were gone.  She picked up me and my sister, and kidnapped us.  She took us away from our mother and hid us in her bedroom.  Each night for weeks, I could hear my mother calling for us, standing outside the front door.  But I was too little to get to her.  I was only a couple weeks old, if that.

Now the Yeti and Mrs Yeti did take good care of us.  They didn't really have a choice.  Using our extreme cuteness, we had these humans feeding us by hand, laying the pattern for our relationship - we, the cats are in charge, and you, the humans are our servants... er, family.

So I let many things go.  I gave them lots of grace and support for all the times these lousy servan... er, family, failed.  Sometimes, it takes them days to change my litter box.  And quite often, they push me off the dining room table while I'm eating my steak.  Often yelling such obscenities like "Stop eating my food cat!"

But then a little while ago, they went too far.

Kaida - 7 year old "puppy" from the pound
I came home one day, and what did I see lounging in my home?  A dog!  That's right, a dog.  A good for nothing, slobbering, scratching flea carrying dog.

Now, did I get all angry and fire the lot of them?  Send them packing and try to find a new cat to work for?  No.  No I did not.  I remembered back to when they took care of me when I was young... but then I also remembered how they kidnapped me from my mother, brothers and sisters.  Was I angry?  Sure.  But I did my best to try to get along with everyone.

But then, they all started ignoring me.  I would walk into the room, and they would all be petting that dog.  So I decided to up my game a little.  I starting bringing home dead birds, dead squirrels, dead mice and even a snake.  Did they say thank you?  No.

What did the dog do for them?!  NOTHING.  Did the dog ever bring home diner? I don't think so.

What did this dog do that I didn't?  Nothing, nothing at all.  Yet they actually seemed to love this bag of fleas.  Well, I had it.  Enough was enough.  No one was spending time with me, so I chewed the internet cable.  Thinking, that if they could not get online to play their video games, that maybe the younger Yetis would pet me again and stop ignoring me.

Unfortunately, it didn't work.  I guess I'm just going to have to get used to this "dog" being my new sister.  I'm sure I can teach it to change my cat litter... or at the very least, open the fridge door for me so I can steal some milk.

Maybe having a new sibling won't be so bad...

Sincerely, your master,