Arrogance does not become me

I was feeling a bit smug at Deaglan’s soccer game on Saturday.

The mother on the patch of grass next to me was close to her breaking point because her two Under Fivers* refused to play. It was quite possibly the hottest day we’ve had this year and her two rascals wanted nothing to do with running or kicking. In a low angry voice she threatened, one-by-one, to take away each of the day’s allotted treats.

“If you don’t get out there and play,” she hissed, taking a break from her Blackberry, “there will be no licorice.” The two didn’t budge.

“I’m not kidding, absolutely no cake today!”

The older one had the younger one in a head lock.

“I swear to God, if you don’t get out there for at least five minutes, I’m taking away the jube-jubes and you can forget about McDonald’s.” She glanced at me sheepishly.

Her boys were now taking turns of body slamming each other.

Oh I know what you’re thinking. I am so going to be there in a couple of years.

But Deaglan also refused to stay on the field. He told me early on, very matter-of-factly, “Mommy, it’s too hot for soccer.” Besides he was giddy with the thrill that we had brought the snack for everybody (it was our turn) and his sole focus was in letting the coaches and his teammates know that we had brought bananas, granola bars and cold water. He perched himself atop the cooler, consulting me every few minutes to determine how close to snack time we were getting.

I was feeling pretty self-congratulatory for relaxing, for not getting worked up that my kid wasn’t living up to my soccer-mom dreams.

The universe knocked me off of the high horse I was riding though.

While waiting to see the doctor this morning, Deaglan and I were perusing the kid’s books. The only other person waiting to see the doctor was a lone woman. Her cell phone vibrated and she decided to take the call outside. A few minutes later she came back into the waiting room.

Loudly and to my sickening horror, my three year old asked, “Mommy, why is that man coming back in here?”

See what I mean? I’m back to my humble self.

We went to the Detroit Zoo last weekend. It was brutally hot and we found ourselves enjoying the indoor attractions. While there were at least twenty real live snakes about four feet from where we sit, Deaglan couldn't get enough of this fake one.

*Deaglan plays in the U5 division - under five.

I'm joining Shell today and pouring my heart out.

I can only be self-less for so long

We had our neighbours and their grandkids over for a play date this week. And when Jennifer (the grandma) thanked Deaglan for letting them play on “his” swing set he responded with “My Daddy built my swing set for me.”

Now, I am nothing if not magnanimous, but I prickled at my son’s comment. Because while I’m the first to generously acknowledge all that my husband gives to our family, I had a good mind to set the child straight.

Yes, Daddy did “build” the swing set. But it was only after Mommy searched and searched kijiji ads for weeks, investigating at least 15 used play-scapes until she found just the right one. Then after a gruelling day at work, she drove her eight month pregnant self out to the country with a cranky, hungry toddler fresh from daycare to inspect it. Once she confirmed that it was in good shape, she tucked her shame into her back pocket and haggled the owners down one hundred dollars from the asking price. Knowing her work had only begun, she next created what can only be considered a small business case to present to your swing-set building hero, whose immediate reaction was to find twenty seven reasons we didn’t need it. But your mother pointed out just as many reasons (and all of them had to do with you) we did.
Then your good-for-nothing mother who, by the way, was busy building you a brother, a life-time friend, someone you will be able to rely on to always gang up on your father and me; well she worked at organizing the use of a truck big enough to carry the swing set home in pieces. And still, once the truck was borrowed, she had to gently coax your father through the entire process because it was rainy and windy which worked to further resist his efforts to have yet another child’s toy crowding his backyard.

Not that I’m bitter.

It’s bad enough that Santa takes all the credit at Christmas.

We took 244 pictures this past long weekend. It was a gloriously sunny fun-filled few days.

Although Naveen won't be one for a week still, we celebrated his big day twice.

I’m pouring my heart out with Shell.