I’ve been out of town, but I’m back now.
In case you were wondering where I was, Fiona and I were in California – her field hockey team was playing at Cal Cup (it’s an international field hockey tournament! I mean – holy field hockey stick, Batman!) While there, I attempted to make like Sporty Parent on the sidelines. As you may know, I am not Sporty Parent. So I was nervous. I’d never even seen a field hockey game before, and I had no idea what to wear – jeans? shorts? the yoga pants I slept in last night? Juicy Couture sweats that I don’t even own? purse or sports bag? is a baseball cap kosher at a field hockey match or is there some kind of hockey hat for moms? do you have to bring your own umbrella chair? what are the chances of that hard little ball taking out a parent? and so on…
Well, I jumped right in and as it turns out, you can wear anything and you can just sit on the grass. Also, I’m a pretty good Shouty Parent and I never would’ve realized this if I hadn’t gone to the tournament. For you novices, here are some of the things you can holler from the sidelines at your child’s field hockey game:
- “It’s yours! It’s yours!” –> which means, “Take the damn ball from your opponent!”
- “Get in there!” –> which means, “Don’t be afraid of those big 12-year-old boys wielding sticks, just get the ball!”
- “Whack it!” –> which means, “Our team is losing so take any and all desperate measures to get a goal!”
- “Keep your stick on the ground! This isn’t Lacrosse!” –> which means, “My child does other sports too and we sometimes get confused.”
- “Head’s up!” –> a nice way of saying, “Stop passing to the wrong team!”
- “Why doesn’t the coach give my kid more time on the field??!!” (just kidding)
So I’m back now, emboldened by my first attempt at being Sporty Parent. I’m proud of my mom-self because not only did I survive feigning sporty (I fooled no one), I also survived a group hike with other parents and their kids in Sequoia National Forest. To the top of Morro Rock. Me! If you knew me in person you would understand how unfathomable me hiking up to this rock is – I’m sort of too high-maintenance to really commune with nature. Also, I didn’t really like the idea of a group hike with a bunch of uber-mountain goaty hiker parents, but Fiona wanted me there so I went. And you know what? I did it. I hoofed it up to the top of that ridiculous rock without kvetching or doing something that would embarrass her, such as hyperventilating, passing out, or getting mauled by a bear.
You may know that in the past I’ve had several freakish experiences with wildlife (the giant snapping turtle that abused me, two fornicating 10-foot-long black rat snakes, etc., etc.) – because for some reason, maybe it’s my Clinique perfume (Aromatics Elixer) wildlife hates me. So when we were starting our hike some French people said that they were very afraid of ze bears. I said, ze bears?
Shit! Merde! There are actual bears in Sequoia? Oh, oui, they said, oui, oui! “You’ll be fine as long as you lock ze food up in your bear safe.”
Well I plum forgot my bear safe and you can imagine how quickly I ditched the power bars and trail mix in my backpack. I was terrified of meeting a bear on the trail (who isn’t?) because out of a group of 30 people, I’m going to be the one idiot the bear is attracted to. That’s just the way things are with me and nature. The last time I went hiking I sprayed lavender-scented hair detangler all over myself because I thought it was bug spray. It turned out to be a kind of bee-and-mosquito attractant. (-:
This week’s listicles topic is 10 summer memories, so I’m going to do 10 summery pictures of our trip to California.
Linking up with Stasha’s Monday Listicles!
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