Oh my goodness, I have so much to say.
Firstly, it has come to my attention that I didn't give some of the most important details about my son's exciting basketball game the other night.
1. DID HE WIN?
Yes. And no. He won AND he lost. Sophomore and JV lost, Varsity won.
2. DID HE CHOKE? (When he was at the foul line, down by two points, with 12 seconds left and hundreds of people yelling CHOKE, CHOKE, CHOKE, CHOKE?)
No, he didn't choke. He tied the game and put us into overtime. Where we lost. But still . . . he DIDN'T choke.
(That's my boy!) (Wait! On second thought, that's not my boy. I woulda choked! I'm a pleaser that way.)
But just between me and you, can I just say that it kinda hurt my feelings that everyone was yelling at my son to CHOKE!?
But he thrives on it and he said it helped him find his rhythm!
(Btw, in the JV game he made six 3-pointers and ended up with 25 points.) (That's my boy!) (Oh wait! that's not my boy. I 've never made a 3-pointer in my life. )
3. WHAT SINGER DID MY MIL ACCUSE OF SOUNDING LIKE SHE HAD A HORSE JAMMED DOWN HER THROAT?
Not too far off if you think about it. I must confess there have been moments when I'm listening to Kesha when I get a distinct urge to jam a horse down her throat--usually it's when I'm in the car with my 14-year-old.
(The things Kesha dares say in front of a 14-year-old and his mother! It doth make me blush!)
BTW, I hope I didn't give the impression that my MIL is a hater of music. She LUBS music actually. As long as John Williams composes it and the Mormon Tab sings it.
Okay, so now that I've clarified, allow to me to update:
Today was the first day of the new semester so I had to go to my son's junior high school with him to make some changes to his schedule. Guess what I noticed? That I was the only person on the face of the earth wearing a coat.
Mmmmhmmmm. That's right.
There was one other girl I saw in the office--a timid little thing who was all by her lonesome. She was kind of wearing a jacket. I got so excited to see this that I rushed right up to her and hugged her. Then I asked her for her name and phone number and if she'd be available in 10 years to marry my son.
I was going to introduce them but when I turned around the only trace of my boy was the lingering smell of burnt rubber.
(Like I said before, weirdie!)
So you know how my daughter works at a flower shop now? Well she was hired to do all the grunt work, like dumping buckets and cleaning the dirty flowers, etc, etc, etc., but lately they've been learning her how to tie ribbons and make corsages and arrange flowers too.
Yesterday she made two arrangements and today when she got to work they told her that one of them had sold.
EEeeeeeeee! Do you know what this means? Someone bought something that my daughter made! with her own two hands. Squeeeeeeeeeeal!
And guess what else?
She still smells like flowers! And she talks about flowers too. Daisies, and roses, and iris', and carnations and orchids.
And then she'll say, "You know what an orchid is, right mom?"
And then I'll poke her in the eye and tell her that I may be dumb, but I ain't stupid! I know my killer whales!
And guess what else?
She gets to see all the high school boys come in with their moms and awkwardly order corsages for the date dances.
My daughter's in the know.
Now that's power.
Flower power, baby!