Bad, Bad Mommy

Yup, I'm a bad mom. I can't stop doing a happy dance because both Bette and The Blonde are gone for the evening. The whole winter break thing has been nice for them but it has caused me to have Maker's Mark daydreams. It's the chatter that kills me. The endless, mindless, ear-drum assaulting chatter. I've honestly tried to be involved and engaged in their conversations, but how many times can I whip my game face out for another conversation about seventh-grader ponytails and high school drama? Ugh.

But tonight is glorious. I actually had a nap. A NAP!! With sleeping and everything! The entire bed to myself. Oh, rapture and joy! I did not cook dinner and did not do laundry. I dumped some food in the pet's food bowls and considered myself done for the day. I didn't mediate any arguments, nor did I negotiate bedtimes. I did not yell in the vicinity of the bathroom about hot water or using my razors. I did not even have to tell anyone to put the damned phone down and pay attention!

And now, without further ado....pictures!! From the new camera!

We took the children to their first professional football game on Sunday. My beloved, undefeated, totally-awesome Colts were playing the Jets. The man and I have gone to at least one game each year for the last several years and thought that taking the kids would be a good idea. Family fun for everyone! Together time! Bonding and what-not!




Well.....if anyone actually follows NFL games, you should know that the Colts were undefeated this year. WERE. Yep, the one game that I chose ALL DAMNED SEASON is the one that they lost. I was crushed. They were disappointed. The fans were irate. In another feat of non-awesome mommy-hood, I managed to sit my children in an area surrounded by some of the most douche-bag, assholey fans on the planet. The team has already clinched the play-offs. We have home-field advantage. There's nothing at stake here, other than an undefeated season. So they pulled the starters and played the second and third string guys. Cue the assholes.

Note to the high-school coach wannabe: Calling an inexperienced third-string quarterback a "fucking worthless sumbitchin' jackass" does not help the situation. It does however shock my children into a fit of giggles.

Note to twenty-something metrosexual wannabe: Maniacal ranting and drunken slurring of profanity is not a good look on you. Sit the hell down and stop embarrassing your date.

Note to Colts: We love you. We really do. I'm not complaining about the few hundred dollars for tickets. Or the forty FREAKIN' dollars for parking. I will not bitch about standing outside in blowing wind and snow waiting on the gates to open. I gladly dressed in my licensed Colts NFL sanctioned apparel and allowed some
emo-girl to paint our faces to show our support. We gladly dished out 20 bucks for pre-historic pretzels and watered down sodas. Maybe you could find it in your hearts to show us the same love.