peskypippi.comBecause I have a lot to say…

As a kid, Saturday nights were get-ready-for-church nights.

I would soak in the bubble bath, lingering until the water turned cold and the bubbles had vanished. Emerging, with my towel wrapped around my hair like a turban, and my nightgown that my Grandmother had laid out for me, I would join her at the kitchen table. Out came the tray of wonder. Her mirrored tray, with the golden handles, lined  with bottles of nail polish in all shades of pink. No red. No purple. Just pink.

Peachy Keen Pink. Pink Lemonade. Rose Blush. Pink Carnation.

What a choice! I made my selection. But what I liked most, was shaking the little glass bottle with the miniature beads inside. The mixing beads. They don’t have those in nail polish bottles anymore, do they?

My Grandmother would paint my nails. And while they dried, we watched The Lawrence Welk Show. It was our thing.

She would tuck me into the crisp, freshly-laundered floral sheets. She would turn the sheets inside out, so that the folded-over sheet showed “the pretty side,” A homemade quilt at my feet. I would say my nightly prayer, “Now I lay me fast to sleep…” The box fan was going full speed, humming, on a hot Summer night. My Grandmother would sleep next to me, smelling like cold cream with her freshly curled-sprayed-and-set hair in a hair net.

It was Saturday night. Time to get ready for church the next day. What I remember most were the sweet rituals and time well spent with my Grandmother.

Sarophilus harrisii. That’s Tasmanian devil to you. “The Tasmanian devil is capable of surprising speed and endurance, and can climb trees and swim across rivers.”

We have been Tasmanian devils these past two months since school started in September. Today is the first Saturday in eight weeks where we have no soccer games or football games to shuttle the kids to, coach, or support. My husband and my conversations on Friday night have gone something like this:

“OK, let’s take two cars. You take X and I’ll take Y. Then Z can get a ride with W. Then you can watch X’s game and I’ll watch Y, but I’ll need to leave early so that I can go to Z’s game. So can you pick up Y and go to W’s game and I’ll pick up X?”

I am not complaining. Just a little sleepy.

My husband and I signed our kids up for sports and we support them 100%. The parents that do over complain about “I am so busy…”

Two words for you: buck up. Make it work. Parenting is busy. We know this. Our rule is that each child has one activity at a time. And that is enough.

I have also come to the realization that with three kids–and it’s been a little tough to accept–well, you just can’t attend every game, every Saturday. Especially when games are scheduled at the same time. And they are across town from each other. I have learned that you can’t feel guilty about it. Tasmanian devils have not been cloned yet. Until then, I am fortunate that my husband and I can split up on Saturday mornings to root on and support someone. And we have wonderful grandparents that live nearby and who make good cheerleaders too. It’s a good idea to become friends with other parents on your child’s team because we were also blessed with the magic of carpooling.

Fortunately, we Tasmanian devils are fast and have good endurance. And like all Tasmanian devils, we need a rest. So, finally. A sleep-in Saturday. Or so I thought.

Too bad we decided to feed our dog, Lucy, an abundance of turkey leftovers last night. So at 7:00 a.m. this morning, I awoke to a whining dog begging me to let her out. Because she had a case of the runs.