David and Goliath

My little Thing 1 won the only award given by his soccer team tonight -- most improved. Thing 1 went from freaked out and zoned out to focused and driven on the field. In the last game, he saved three goals from a giant SuperSized kid as the goalie for his team.

I have no idea where he got this tiger inside him for the game. One day, a few weeks ago, after weepy talks of wanting to quit soccer because they "push me and take the ball away," Thing 1's perspective just changed. Overnight, my boy didn't care who was bigger or faster or stronger. He had a mission: Get That Ball.

Tonight, as a dozen pizza faced 4-6 year old's cheered and walloped around the nearest RoundTable, I found my son stunned, eyes glassy and unaware of the dozen or so parents who voted him the kid who grew the most, instead staring at me smiling a cheeky grin. A child -- even a grownup's -- greatest wish: a unanimous crowd of cheering teammates, coach and friends howling your name.

My son, two years out of diapers, facing his first Goliath.

Damn this parenting gig is cool sometimes.

The Playdate...isn't Me.

The Things have a playdate today, one of the first of its kind. The girl was dropped off at our house, the kids ran into the bedroom and closed the door. They've been laughing a giggling and fully engaged.

I am thrilled for my kids, but a bit, I dunno, jealous? I offered to make brownies with them and they just ignored me. I guess I'm going to have to step-up my tactics if I want to get in on the fun.

I'm sitting here, wondering when playdates turned from my girlfriends and I drinking wine and watching the kids toddle and bobble around before falling into a heap of exhaustion from sheer social engagement to today where I stand in my kitchen with a preheated oven alone with Betty Crocker wondering if they'll let me play too....

Defending Spam Satan

I defended the Spam Satan tonight. A little startup company that's been around a few years. I mean, "Start Up company around a few years" is an oxymoron in itself.

I've got this buddy, an ex-boyfriend, turned friend, turned acquaintance by necessity who runs a startup that's well funded and doing okey dokey. Their schemes of helping out small business owners is a little sketchy, but hell, so are most things that have a sexy storyline. How is this company going to help small business owners get publicized online? It's a great need to fill, a great question to answer, and moreover, a great obstacle to tackle because small business merchants lack a few things: money, time, power and influence.

If you're not trying to shop at your local ditty instead of at Target for everything, then you've got the spirit all wrong. Creativity lies in small businesses. And marketing small businesses takes creativity too. So this company has got some schemes. Real down and dirty 'Bama-esque schemes. But what the hell? They just got a second round of funding for another $10Million which is a shitload more than a lot startups I've seen go belly and ass right up.

So I made a post to Valleyfag...ooooh, big mistake. Never, ever challenge satan's critics. I feel like an idiot for going up against them, but seriously, WTF with messing with the little guy on every fucking level?

Follow Up to the Vomit

It was Thing 2. My heart is broken for her. I have never wanted so badly to crumble and had to, absolutely, without blinking, be the best.fucking.mom.ever and get what my girl needs. Time for me to walk the walk and CowgirlUp.

I Look Like Shit

I actually said the words OUTLOUD today: "Okay girl, you look like crap, so shoulders back so you don't make it worse than it already is." Argh.

A new friend of mine's father-in-law -- an abusive, gambling, obsessive prick -- is dying. I ran her to the airport at 4:45 a.m. this morning and I'm paying for it by looking homeless all day long. The story of this dude reminds me of my dad and gives me the creeps.

...but that's nothing compared to New Friend who reminds me of, me.

The Case of the Mysterious Vomit

Investigation began when vomit was found in downstairs bathroom sink by Thing 1 and Mommy at 8 a.m. Both children and both parents deny any vomit episodes. Further inquiry and bribery into children's behavior subsequently corroborated their story: not puke perps.

Suspects:

Thing 1 : Discovered vomit, called it "poo in the sink" admitted to throwing up "when I was 3" but not today. When bribed with ice cream, said that it was not him.

Thing 2: Said surprised: "No, mom," when asked if she'd thrown up in the sink. A towel was in her bed, mysteriously, but not soiled. When bribed with ice cream, said it was not her, "and that's the truth."

La Gringa: Said she did not vomit, claiming that she couldn't vomit if she tried to do so, and despite being on a diet currently. Never noticed the vomit in the sink, despite being in the bathroom several times.

Me: The only person to eat carrots (carrots were in the vomit along with a lot of leafy green looking things.) and the co-founder of the vomit in the sink with Thing 1.

Friend with Bulimia : Visiting for the night. Lifetime bulimic who has type 1 diabetes. Neither La Gringa or I saw her go to the bathroom. She left about 11 p.m. after several glasses of wine.

This is an open case. Send any information to our tip line!

Junk in the Trunk

So I Guess They're not Dumb -- Quotes from this Week

Thing 1: "That lady's boobies hang so low it's like a dripping ice cream cone."

Thing 2: "I can't take your jacket, because then *you'd* be cold."

Thing 1: "The sunroof makes a breezy breeze flowing through the car and it makes me feel good and windy and happy."

Thing 1: "Sorry friend, I can't be your *best* friend. My mommy is my best friend already."

Thing 2: "Can you invite my grandma to the movies too? Just give her a call. She *loves* movies."