My day Saturday started out with me still not having decided which child's sport I was going to attend. I'd known for how many weeks that the day had Ginger Girl playing basketball at 9:00 & 1:00 & Boy Teenager wrestling all day from 10:00-5:00. In different towns, quite a distance from each other. There was no way to do both. I had to pick one.
I knew this day would actually arrive, but I just could not pick one.
How do you pick one kid over the other without Mommy Guilt? Or seeking out a wonderful psychologist to provide therapy for them to deal with it as adults?
I decided to wait till I knew which one my ex-husband was going to, if any. I went to the other one. Since all he does is act like Father of the Year at their sports (at the handful he bothers to show up at), while hubby & I are the ones supporting everything they do, I get sick watching it. I don't want to see it.
I went to Ginger Girl's double header & hubby went to Boy Teenager's tournament.
I had to bring Ginger Girl to her game half an hour early so I sat down in the bleachers for the last half of the current game. First I made the mistake of sitting next to a woman who held conversations with herself. I didn't realize that is what was going on at first, so I answered her questions because I thought she was talking to me. I mean, when someone says, "Which girl was that?" or "Did you see the same thing as the ref?" you tend to think they're talking to the person next to them.
It took me a few minutes too long to realize she had never once looked at me when she asked the questions, only when I answered her. And that was a look along the lines of "who are you & why are you talking to me?"
I stopped answering her & lo & behold the woman answered herself. No lie. She answered herself.
After about 15 minutes of this, she suddenly realized I was there--I guess--because I heard, "It's been years since I've done that." After 15 minutes of talking to someone who is not actually having a conversation with you & who acted like she was seeing a ghost when she realized you were talking to her, you tend to not realize when they actually start talking to you. That is fact.
After about 30 seconds I realized she was staring intently at me while I was knitting.
I looked at her & said, "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Honestly, was there a better way to respond to her statement? I don't know.
She then went on to tell me how her sister taught her to knit as a teenager. When I told her that my Grandma taught me at 7 years old, she said, "Yeah, that's the age I was when my Mom taught me." I wasn't aware it was a competition on how old we were when we learned, or who taught us, but she obviously thought it was.
When I told her that I hadn't knitted in years & just recently started up again because I'd realized how much I missed my hobbies, she said, "I just started up again last winter." Okay, another competition statement here?
Do you see how this conversation was going? It wasn't pleasant. I was so glad when someone accidentally bumped into her & interrupted our conversation. I pounced at that chance to be very interested in the game that was going on. It did not, however, help me to ignore the stream of many, many expletives that loudly poured out of her mouth throughout the game. She takes her 5th grade daughter's games seriously, yo.
After a little bit this woman ended up sliding closer to me as the bleachers filled with more people. And that's when I realized that this woman had something very non-coffee-like in her coffee cup. It ain't water she's drinkin' over there, folks. The smell of Jack Daniels was overpowering. Ah, gotta love a parent who has to get wasted at a child's basketball game. I can only pray she wasn't the one driving home after the game.
Finally that game was over & it was my daughter's turn. Thankfully that lady did manage to stumble down the bleachers without hurting herself or anyone else, though for a while it was questionable she would achieve that with the way she was not exactly able to walk straight. The next people to sit next to me were a wee bit more pleasant. Or at least it started out that way.
The Dad of one of my daughter's team mates sat next to me & we talked about the earlier game since he'd missed it. I knitted throughout the conversation, while our girls were warming up. His other daughter was watching my knitting very intently & after some time she shyly asked me, "Are you making a scarf?" I told her I was & she scooted closer & closer to watch me, all while asking questions about it. I thought it was adorable that she was interested in it & that she "didn't know knitting was a real thing that people do." She was adorable & made me smile. Until...
...she started coughing. All. Over. Me. And my knitting. Her Dad then tells me that this girl is so sick & really shouldn't be out of bed. Gee. Thanks.
If you've ever wondered whether hand sanitizer will ruin knitting needles & yarn, I can now tell you the answer. No, it does not. I think I may bottle my own hand sanitizer & label it for crafts. People pay a fortune for products that are marked specifically for one purpose. "A sanitizer for my crafts? I had no idea that I needed this! How genius!" Don't steal my idea.
I can't forget the Mom who sat in front of me & repeatedly picked the eye boogers out of her son's eyes & flicked them onto the bench. All while loudly complaining about Pink Eye & what a pain it is to take care of.
I bleached my clothes & my entire body when I got home.