Like Teaching a Fish to Ride a Bicycle*

As the football spirals down perfectly into my hands with a delicate amazing accuracy, she cheers. “That’s right Mom, catch it with your hands, not your body. Aren’t I good at this?”

Both of our faces get sweaty and red as we pass the ball between us 15 times without dropping; 26 times without dropping it; 31 times without dropping the ball.  

“You are. Amazing.” 

I can’t talk in full sentences because it’s 101 outside and also because I only recently discovered that my Magic Bullet  (blender) makes the best 100 calorie frozen margaritas in the world and if I talk more I’ll talk myself into going back inside and making one right now.

A little voice (mine) the size of an angry Leprechaun (have you ever seen a female Leprechaun? I haven’t.  I know there is only one girl Smurf, and I was taught to believe Smurfs are communists even though they are blue not red.  Anyway…) says to me, “Throwing a football?! What a waste of time an talent on a girl.  This is like a fish that likes to bicycle. Not natural, no good, no point.  Anyway, why the hell are you teaching her to throw a football? Where’s her Dad? What’s wrong with this world?”

I’ve had bad thoughts like these before.  Like everything else in the entire universe, they pass. I stand out of the storm of thoughts like a pedestrian standing out of the rain, dry, peaceful, observing. 

I let go of wanting anything more than this, here and now, and toss the football ball back to Zoe, trying to look all intimidating and Quarterback-like.

It’s a dead-on spiral. Whoot! She cheers and catches it, spins the ball to get the right grip, then reloads her arm, aims, and throws it back to me.

It goes above my head but I reach up and grab it then strike the Heisman Pose.

We laugh and go in to get ice and ask for nothing better than this, today. 

Camp Mommy: 6 Pack After Lunch

After the shower I walk out with a towel  my head.  Besides that, I'm fully dressed because I know better than to expect privacy once I open the door.

Every time I close my bathroom door the children are pulled towards it and held in some 15 foot hover-zone.

Zoe is editing a video (loudly); Zack is shirtless laying on my floor in sit-up position on my yoga mat, his feet are tucked under my heavy dumbbells.

 His "major goal" this summer is to get a a 6-pack of hard abs and pretty much will do any exercise you tell him will give him a 6-pack (including the very ab-specific carrying of groceries in from the car, try it, no joke).

As he exales, he says "Siiixxxxxxx" then back down, then up again, "sevvvvvennnnnn......"

I cock my head.
My special Mother senses tell me this is wrong, all wrong.
He can do better.
I must show him how.

"Zack, whenever someone walks in on you exercising, you must immediately go to 127. And say it like you're super happy and out of breath at the same time..."

He lays back, and starts to do a sit up but I stop him "WAIT, NO, I have to leave the room!"

First I think to take a step backwards and go back into the bathroom and blowdry my hair in this peaceful eye of the storm.  But it's too hot in the bathroom, so I walked across the room and out the bedroom door and closed it behind me.

I walked in and Zack, perfectly on cue said, "127!" and Zoe and I laughed.

Then he went back down, and on the way back up, said "NNNNNinnnnnnne"

"What? What?" I said, "Do you know what happens to campers who try to outsmart their Camp Director and fitness trainers?" and I threw myself down on the floor and wrestled with him and  tickled him until both our stomachs hurt from laughing.

Churros for Peace

Zack and a neighbor are llYing Mariokart. Zoe is reading. I order delivery Cuban Food and thank God for the USA.

The doorbell rings. I pay.

"Cuban food is here!" I announce.

Zack turns to his friend and says, "We are Cuban. That makes us Hispanic....I hold you don't want to kill us now that you know that.... I read about a lot of murdered Hispanics.."

His friend keeps racing MarioKart and says something like "uhhh ok"

I slip the guy him a still-hot churro (the one that would have been mine...) just for insurance, anyway.

So far, peace reigns.