You already know about my Saturday--washer overflow, teething baby, yada yada yada. I cleaned up the living room only to have it torn asunder again, I ended up not changing out of my yoga pants until 5:00 pm because Matt carted Gabby and Sam to their birthday parties/picnics/other social obligations. Gabby had her first cheerleading game of the year on Saturday night. Despite the fact that it was raining. Well, allow me to rephrase--it had been raining all day, but momentarily stopped about 30 minutes before we had to go. Given that Matt was still working on the washing machine and Sam didn't want to go because he had been at a birthday party/play date all day and was tired, Alice and I decided to take Gabby on our own. Because of the rain, I didn't wear the cute skinny jeans and cardigan ensemble I had planned, and instead wore a W&M sweatshirt (it is fitted, so not that horrible), Old Navy Weekend Jeans, and my old running shoes. I did manage to put on make-up. Alice wore a shirt that says "I'm the Little Sister" that my grandmom bought her at JC Penney and Gap straight leg jeans. She was cute. Gabby, seething that her uniform has not come in, wore a purple t-shirt, jean shorts and sneakers. I put her hair up in a high ponytail, and since it just barely came to the nape of her neck (because of the cut and the highness of the ponytail), she spent the rest of the game yanking on it to try to pull it down farther. Great.
We got to the game, and had been there for maybe 30 minutes (the game before Gab's was still going on) when it started POURING. Alice had fallen asleep, and I (of course) did not have the rain cover for the Maclaren. So in a feat of superhuman strength, I picked up the stroller (with Al in it) and slid it under the bleachers. Over the line of stuff that is supposed to keep teenagers from going under there to sniff glue and conceive children. What? It was the driest place around. I go under there too. Now, I live in a small town where the police do not have much to do, but I wasn't expecting to get hasselled about it. I'm under there for maybe 5 minutes when a cop who is patrolling the area pulls down the alley below the bleachers and sees me sitting there. He parks his car, and comes and talks to me.
Cop: Ma'am, you're not supposed to be back here.
Me (whispering): Yes, I know, but it is raining, and I'm trying to keep my daughter dry. She's asleep.
Cop: (moving around to look at Alice, because as well know, I could be carting a load of Oxycontin and condoms in an umbrella stroller) Well, I see, but, you're not supposed to be here.
Me: Ok, as soon as it stops raining, I'll be glad to move.
Cop: Just who are you here to see? (because it is obvious I'm a pedophile at this point. Where's Chris Hanson? I've got all these condoms and this Mike's Hard Lemonade. Isn't this where FunkyGirl16 wants to meet?)
Me: My daughter. She's a cheerleader for the next game.
Cop: And just where is she?
Me: (OH SHIT. I HAVE NO IDEA.) She is with her coach, getting ready for the game.
Cop: (sticks his hands out from under the bleachers) It has stopped raining. I can help you get her out of here.
Me: Oh, I think I can do it...
Cop: (goes to pick up the stroller and wakes Alice up in the process) Let's see here.... (smacks every bar under the bleachers trying to get the thing out, when all you have to do is just lift it straight up) She's awake.
Me: Oh, ok.
Cop: Now, don't get back under here. I don't want kids seeing you and thinking that it is ok. We had a lot of trouble before we put that fence up.
(Note: The "fence" is a piece of black shoestring that has been tied to the fence behind. A 27 year old woman was able to lift a Maclaren Quest over the "fence" and place her sleeping 25 lb. infant on the other side. Something tells me a couple of horny teenagers aren't going to be paying much attention to the "fence".)
Me: Thank you for your help.
In other news, if you would like to commit a crime, let me know, and I'll be glad to give you my zip code, because obviously, you can get away with murder down here. The cops are too busy catching all of us wanton criminals.
The football team ends up losing 45-0. They move a total of 10 yards the entire game. The 11 year old quarterback (who I think my daughter has a crush on and tells her daily about how he is going to get a football scholarship to Virginia Tech) could probably be replaced by Alice if, by chance, he gets hurt trying to get his helmet off. Alice gets fussy during half time, so I quickly drive her home to Matt (who is triumphant after fixing the washer and doing two loads of towels) who gives her a bath. I then go back to the game. The girls do not have a lot to cheer about, nor do they know the difference between defense and offense. The cheerleading parents are all ecstatic because it doesn't look like we'll be making the playoffs this year, so that is just one more Saturday we can add back to our calendars. One of the girls threatens to quit.
After all the excitement, I go home and watch the A's pwn the Red Sox and drink some hot cocoa. I end up falling asleep on the couch.
On Sunday, I was supposed to bake a pie and make a pot roast and do the 5.7 tons of laundry that managed to accumulate in the 8 hours or so that the washer was out of commission. However, my husband's grandparents come to visit his parents, so we leave laundry and meat alone and drive up to their house for a visit. My husband grew up on this huge mountain, and it is actually really pretty once you get up there (getting up there, however, can be a bit challenging), and yesterday did not disappoint. The kids spent most of the day playing outside in the crisp air (it is also colder and windier up there) and setting off smoke bombs. Matt and I watch football and baseball with his dad, and then we order out and get cheeseburgers for dinner. Sam finds some old Childcraft Encyclopedias of Matt's (did anyone else have these? I had them too, and they were awesome!), so we spend the rest of the night talking about the seven wonders of the ancient world. We have a huge moonlit match of tag before driving home. Then we bring the kids home and put them to bed. I had left a ball of dough sitting in the kitchen to rise while we were gone, and by the time we get back it is HUGE, so I punch it down and bake it and Matt and I eat fresh bread and watch more baseball before finally turning in.
It is funny--Matt and I are both nerds. Always have been, and always will be. Therefore, it is so hard to believe that we now live a life where a weekend can include lots of football and one/both of us fixing a major household appliance. I asked Matt about the washing machine and how he fixed it, and he just shrugged and said something about it being common sense. If you had told me that the 15 year old boy I first saw all those years ago, the one with the huge glasses that slid down his nose constantly, the one who I never saw go anywhere without a book, would someday fix my washing machine, I would have laughed. But yet here we are. And life is everything and nothing like what I thought it would be.