Dear Darling Husband,
It is Day 1 of your business trip, I hope it is educational and beneficial. You’re amazing and the company is lucky to have you. I’ve been attending to the ‘business’ of the house and ‘training’ the children to be young outstanding citizens.
Here’s today’s recap: If you recall upon your departure you mentioned that the Girl needed new softball cleats. You also mentioned that somewhere in the online universe there is a coupon for 20% off at Sports Authority. I searched the web but could only find a bunch of coupons that expired in 2009. But being your ever faithful and dutiful wife I printed them anyways and decide to just play dumb if asked.
With my 2009 coupon in hand I head to Sports Authority (SA) when the Girl casually mentions she also NEEDS knee pads for volleyball. I make a slight adjustment to my SA route and we start heading to what I think would be a logical place for knee pads. I ask an SA associate where they may be “Huh, (pause) we JUST moved that section, so I’m not sure where….”(insert white noise chatter into head set) then she turns to me and says, “I don’t know exactly where they are, but they are by the volleyballs” and walks away. If I had a “no shit” banner I would have waved it in her face. For future reference, they are located between the basketballs and paintball paraphernalia. Of course.
New to volleyball I’m shocked to see there are like 10 different kinds of knee pads – colors, shapes, sizes, breathable back-of-the-knee cut outs. After 11 minutes we decide on a large white Mizuno brand. The children find the paintball equipment and start acting out the Hunger Games.
When all the knee pads has been stuffed back into their bags and clamshells I start heading to the cashier. The Girl puts down her quiver and says ‘Hey, don’t forget I need softball cleats’. Oh, yes, that IS why we came and why I’m carrying around this expired coupon.
Those of you that have visited the Bridgepointe Sports Authority know that the volleyball section is at the clear opposite side of the store from the girls softball cleats section. It takes us literally 15 minutes to walk from one side of the store to the other as every 1 minute I’m stopped to be shown something that they really, Really NEED. By men’s fitness I yell “Do not ask me to buy you anything!” and we walk in silence thru yoga and camping.
I am really hoping that a SA associate will stop me and ask if I need any assistance at which point I can throw my daughter at them, yell “softball cleats”, run away, and spend the rest of the time in the massage chair. No one does as I think sales people can smell parental desperation.
Thankfully, the selection of cleats is smaller than the kneepads and she only has three to choose from.
At this point the Boy exclaims “I’m bored and I’m going to the golf section”. I’m not actually listening to him so I nod.
The Girl decides that even though the 5.5s are too big, she likes the pink better so she’d rather buy them even though her heel slides out the back. A lot of discussion around this – why function is better than fashion and she needs to be comfortable so she can be a valuable team mate, and blah blah…I hear the first page “Sports Authority would like to remind our customers children should be supervised by responsible parents at all times.” Since I’m not a responsible parent I decide this does not apply to me.
I tell the Girl that she should take a lap around the store with a smaller 5.0 pair to get a real good idea how they would feel. I figure this will buy me at least 50 seconds of peace and possibly one swipe at Candy Crush. She thinks this is brilliant and begins to run at full pace toward the skateboards, and I begin to take a deep relaxing breath only to hear another page “Would the owner of an 8 year old boy please report to the golf section.”
What dipshit allows their 8 year old boy unsupervised in a golf section?
The Girl returns, agrees that a correctly fitted shoe is better. I swing by the golf section to get the boy only to see him surrounded by a pile of putters that somehow have been knocked over domino style. About 30 of them cover the small turf green and the Boy is simply playing around them. Smart kid I think. I bet the parents of the asshat kid who made this mess are super jealous.
As I move to the cashier line, I remember my coupon and select a homely Asian boy with glasses. Upon check out I pass him my coupon.
He scans it and tells me it is old. “Surprised” I tell him my husband told me to get one off the internet and this is the only thing I can find and wouldn’t be nice if he could give it to me anyways. He looks around the register but can’t find one and then goes and digs one out of the trash can. I heart him. He scans it – and boom I save $32.00. You married the right woman.
I’m exhausted. I look at the clock and it’s only 10:28 AM.
I did alright in the morning:
Breakfast –Mimi’s café. I modeled good behavior and ordered an egg white omelette. The kids wanted no part of it and ordered chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, and two orders of bacon. The Boy insists on dipping his eggs in syrup which is super nasty and he must get this from your side of the family.
Lunch – Yea, I completely forgot about that.
Dinner – Christine invited us over and I think they had some protein.
Also, I decided that going on the wagon doesn’t include champagne. Just thought I should let you know.
At about 6:00 the Boy loses a tooth.
I move one of the numerous rainbow loom bracelets from my right wrist to my left wrist to remind me to alert the tooth fairy. Those things are giving me a rash but I don’t have the heart to tell the Girl since ‘each one is custom made just for me’. If I forget I’ll just write him a check and tell him the ToothFairy has moved to a PayPal model.
Currently they are both asleep or have smuggled in their Ipads and are being quiet. Don’t give a shit either way since they are not bothering me.
I miss you dearly. Seven days till you come home!