Livi’s soccer practice (6:00 tonight) hasn’t been cancelled yet. Gabe has a meeting, so I’ll be going by myself with the girls. I’m really excited about getting supper, getting them all out the door, entertaining the 2 younger ones while Livi practices, keeping everybody out of the mud, and running for cover when it starts pouring down rain again at 6:40. I’ve got to toughen up if I’m going to be a soccer mom.
Livi’s friend Sophie is here playing. Every time she comes over, she calls me “Olivia’s mommy.” “Olivia’s mommy, can I have a snack? Olivia’s mommy, when is Nina waking up? Olivia’s mommy, can Olivia come help me with my lemonade stand tomorrow?” Just now, she said, “Mrs. Taviano, can…” I looked at her in disbelief. After she asked her question, she went and told Livi, “Now that I’m older, I call your mom ‘Mrs. Taviano.'” It’s amazing how much older you can get in 2 days.
Last night was Cubbies. Just a normal night, playing with the kids in the gym for game time. We’re running around, having fun, when I see it. A little wisp of a girl (Courtney P, she could be your daughter’s twin!) bending over and hurling. She’s not even in my group, but one of the male leaders was staring at her in shock, and my motherly instinct kicked in. I whisked her out of the gym to get help (and let someone else deal with the mess). I held her hand and walked down the hallway to find the Cubbies director. She stops and loses the rest of her supper–and probably her lunch. Man, do kids not know how to chew up their food? Everything looked perfectly intact and identifiable to me.
I pick her up (she weighs about 10 pounds) and walk as fast as I can to find someone who can help. Finally find the director. She calls her mommy. I clean her little hands and mouth and shirt, praying that God will somehow spare me from contracting this horrific virus or spreading it to my kids. I carried her outside and we waited in the beautiful spring breeze for her mommy.
She seemed to be fine, but I just held her. I asked her if she lived close to the church. “I live in Ohio,” she said. Yeah, that’s pretty close. She told me about her 6-year-old brother and 1-year-old sister. I told her my kids were 6, 4, and 1 as well. She told me about her baby brother still in Mommy’s tummy–that he will probably have pink or brown hair. Or maybe scarlet like mine, she mused , as she twirled her pale blond ponytail.
At one point, she asked me if I had a baby in my belly, too. She had her arms wrapped around my neck and her legs around my waist. I could only assume my stomach felt a little pudgy to her. But no. “I feel something kicking me down there,” she said. Uh, hunger rumbles?
I asked her what kind of car her mom would be driving. “A really fast speed limit car,” she said. It was a navy mini-van.
Is anyone else in your family sick? I asked her. Yeah, Mommy and Daddy were sick. Mommy threw up all over her pants. Mmmm…nice.
After her mommy came, I went back inside, took off my Cubbies polo, scrubbed my hands and arms, and taught the rest of the night in my bra and crack jeans. I mean, my black t-shirt and track capri pants. Prayed some more that I wouldn’t get sick.
Ava was in heaven with her little “boyfriend” who appears to like her as much as she likes him. I can’t do this, I’m telling you. We heard about him the whole way home. How she held his hand in the circle and touched his arm at some other point during the evening. I don’t get how 2 girls with the same parents can be wired so differently.
I got to go to Bible study again today. Hooray! I was almost giddy this morning being able to go 2 weeks in a row. I got to talk to the young girl I gave my books to last week, and it was soooo encouraging. Thank You, Lord!
Shoot, the sun is coming out. Time to start the supper/soccer madness.