I’ve created quite a nest for myself today, surrounded by magazines, phones, a computer and TV, while I rule the roost from my bed. It’s like bed rest without the power that accompanies a medical order. My goal for Mother’s Day was to read my backlog of magazines, when really I’ve only made it through some blogs on Feedly and a CB2 catalog that has been dogeared up by someone else in this house.
One unadvertised benefit of our awesome bed is that the headrest doubles as a drink holder/shelf. It’s a fantastic feature because it keeps your drink accessible without forcing you to lean over to reach the nightstand, causing your carefully constructed pile of pillows to fall out of position. It was perfect until today when one of the pillows nicked a half full glass of lemonade, dumping the contents everywhere. I jumped up, grabbed a towel, and began wiping when I sat down on the bed to reach the floor board in between the nightstand and bed. First I heard beeps, then a weird muffled sound in the house. Only after I looked accusingly at the TV did I realize that I had sat on the phone and had butt dialed the phone intercom system. My clean up was broadcast house-wide. Still more entertaining than the Kardashians.
This came while watching a Dodgers game where they showed a mom in the crowd who looked topless, super tan, and on display while her son tried to get her attention. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt that she was wearing a tube top and wasn’t topless, but I can’t be certain. She did make me think of Tom Papa’s take on hot moms:
The best news of Mother’s Day and the continuation of my love-hate with online quizzes: I am Lorelei Gilmore.
It’s like Google turned over secret information on me because I LOVE Gilmore Girls. I even watched a few of the early episodes with Clover until someone in this house complained that I was hogging the Netflix spots. Rory’s high school graduation still makes me cry, especially her mention of how she inhabits two worlds – one of books and one of real life – because that is Clover, too.
Clover’s softball team lost in the playoffs yesterday due to a horrible call. I know, one call isn’t an entire game of play, but this one call really did cost them the game and it hurts so much more when your team wasn’t outplayed, but beat by a
blind naccoleptic clustercuss umpire. And, it hurts so much more when the game is your child’s and not your own. This loss stung more than any I remember from my childhood. Clover didn’t say much, and as we drove away, she finally said that the worst of it was that she felt “especially bad” for one of her teammates. This girl was involved in the bad call play, and I thought that may be the reason Clover felt bad for her, but I was wrong. “It’s just that she’s always so positive and optimistic, and at the end, she was crying.”
Clover is a better person than I. That made my Mother’s Day.