Super Bowl Blues

We are big football fans in this house. And when I say "we", I mean Mr. Minivan, Boy #1, and Boy #2. I don't quite know when Boy #2 became a football fan but all I know is this year he knows all about the game, all the rules, all the players, and is happy to sit by himself and watch a football game. How disappointing. I thought I at least had him on my side. You know my side--the I like football for the social aspects of it side. This year, as soon as we knew the Bears were in the Super Bowl, we started planning for our Super Bowl party. And when I say "we", I mean me. I went out to Party City the day after the last playoff game and bought orange and blue paper goods. I even bought one of those plastic football shaped chip and dip holders. I know. It's scary. We sent out an Evite, bought beer and Diet Cherry Coke, and I got out my chili recipe. The party was a lot of fun. At first, that is. Lots of screaming and shouting at the TV, because, as you know, that helps them to play better. Things got a little quieter at the end. But we're from Chicago. We're used to this. We'll get 'em next year.

A perfect morning? Not eggs-actly

Today Mr. Minivan and I went to a bar/Mexican restaurant to watch the Bears game. Or at least, he went to watch the Bears game. Here in LA, the game started at 10 AM. We walked into this big place with tons of TVs all over, each with little team pennants on them showing which game was on which TV. I noticed many people with football jerseys and caps on. I thought it was only kids who wore team jerseys but I guess I was wrong. Women, too, had jerseys on and some had even flashdanced them up--scissoring them into sexy little tops. I felt as if I were at a costume party without a costume on. And one of the many strange things I noticed this morning was that there were tons of Philadelphia Eagles fans there--all in proper costume. Has everyone from Philadelphia moved to LA? It sort of felt like it.

Mr. Minivan ordered breakfast--huevos rancheros, while I decided to wait. People who came in after us and ordered got served, but no huevos appeared at our table. You would think that for the kitchen in a Mexican restaurant to put out an order of huevos rancheros it would not be a big deal but apparently it was. After about 40 minutes he decided to check on his order. The cute bartender said she would check on it. She came back 5 or so minutes later and said they were working on it. 15 minutes later we checked again. This time a manager said he would check on it and never came back. Yet another cute bartender or waitress checked. Still working on it--but this time she showed us a piece of paper and said "I put the order in!", which, of course, made us feel much better. Finally finally his breakfast arrived. And here's the clincher--as she put the plate of eggs, rice, and beans in front of him she asked, "Do you need silverware with that?" Um....yes, that's how one usually eats eggs. You want some giggles or eyelash batting----maybe a beer or a very simple mixed drink--she's your girl. You want some silverware or some ice in your water--maybe not. So now my theory is that you need some sort of IQ test to work there but that they take all the low scores because the manager is so stupid he thinks the lower scores are better--like in golf.

The Eagles fans occasionally burst into song, singing the Eagles fight song. How cute. I ended up eating nachos for breakfast--not that there's anything wrong with that. Next week we get DirectTV, and I won't have to leave my house to not watch the game. And the service at my house will be much better. I, at least, will come back to tell you you're not getting any food. Oh yeah, and I hear that the Bears crushed Detroit. Another beautiful Sunday in LA.

A Big Sighting

As you may or may not know, I have pretty much been a prisoner in my house lately. Waiting for repairmen is my new hobby. So tonight I was actually looking forward to getting out of the house to go to Boy #2's Little League game. We got there a little early so he could warm up and there seemed to be a little buzz in the air. My fellow baseball moms told me that Tom Cruise's son was on the opposing team. Little Connor was actually the catcher. Finally, my subscription to People magazine was paying off--I knew his son's name! We all wondered whether Tom and Katie, or TomKat, as they are known, would show up. The other moms were talking about the paparazzi huddled together on a grassy knoll near the other team's bleachers. "They are not allowed to come any closer." "Can you believe that's their job?" Shortly before the game started, the flash bulbs went wild. TomKat was in the house. I mean, in the park. She is very pretty and very pregnant. He looks exactly like Tom Cruise. All the baseball moms on my team seemed to be on their cell phones alerting their friends. I was watching Katie rub Tom's back, his hand on her leg. I then decided to go hang out by the other bleachers. I mean, I'm new in town. What a great opportunity to make some new friends, right? Up close they look exactly like themselves. They didn't look crazy. And I think you know what I mean. Tom was shouting out encouraging baseball dad stuff to his son. Katie was rubbing his back. I texted a couple of friends the breaking news. One of them told me that she had just seen on Entertainment Tonight that Katie was in Ohio preparing to give birth. "She's sitting on a bleacher 50 feet from me," I said. The other one called me a liar and demanded photos. I actually took a couple of photos when Boy #2 was up at bat that would have been perfect if they weren't so dark. Tom and Katie were in the background. One of the team moms took tons of photos so I actually do have proof. Not that I need any. After all, celebs are all over the place here, right? You practically can't take a walk--not that anyone does out here--without falling over one. And all of us residents are very blase, you know--it's SUCH a common thing. Nothing to get excited about.

Oh, who won the game? I have no idea.

Some observations

I have realized why I go to the grocery store every day. Not only is it a break from unpacking, but it is a little bit of face-to-face human contact other than my own family. I find myself chatting up everyone from the deli lady to the produce guy to the checkers. And they have to be nice to me because I'm a customer. I have also noticed that whenever a service person comes to the house I switch into hostess mode. "Would you like a Coke or a bottle of water?" I ask the phone guy and the cable installer. I am days away from offering them cheese and crackers, I fear.

A couple of days ago was Boy #2's first baseball game. A very serious league, this one is. Lots of rules. A real dugout, a real umpire, and a real scoreboard. It was about 68 degrees and I had been running around all day. Besides, I'm from Chicago. That's practically a summer day back home. I wore a tank top. I walked up to the bleachers and saw the other mothers. In. Scarves. And. Fleece. Can you believe it? Actually the temperature did drop soon after I got to the game and I put on my sweatshirt, but really, scarves and 68 degrees? Fragile people. And they all told me I'll be just like they are soon.

The unpacking continues. More observations as they occur.

First Celebrity Sightings

Who knew Little League was a great place to spot celebrities? I was talking to one of guys who produced "Glory Road" and over his wife's shoulder I spotted someone who looked a lot like Sela Ward (from Once & Again, Sisters, and House). So I asked his wife and, sure enough, it was Sela Ward. You know, me and Sela Ward, Little League moms. We have so much in common. Once I start drinking coffee I'm sure we'll go grab many lattes together. Then I spotted a bearded man who looked like an older Danny Bonaduce (think Partridge Family) and of course it turned out that he was Danny Bonaduce. I also learned that Tom Cruise turns up at a lot of soccer games, but soccer season is a long way off. More sightings as they occur....

Sweating Soccer Mom

So today I really fell off the deep end. Boy #2 had a soccer game and I had to help Mr. Minivan with some work stuff. I asked the mom of one of his teammates (who is also one of his classmates) if she could give him a ride home. This other mom, who is a lovely lady, by the way, said it was no problem. The game was scheduled from 3 to 4 and is no more than 10 minutes away from our house. I did my work and sent a few emails and then glanced at my watch. 4:32!! I started to wonder where he was. I realized I did not have this mom's cell phone number and called her home number, hoping she would not answer, hoping that maybe her outgoing message would contain her cell number, or that a helpful husband or child would answer and give me the number. No answer. Then I remembered that a friend of mine worked with her and might have her number.

I called my friend and she did have the number. I then proceeded to leave two slightly panicked messages on the cell phone, which, of course, went straight to voice mail! "Hi, I was just calling to see where you are. It's after 4:30 and I'm getting a little worried." By this time my imagination had gone into overdrive and I pictured myself arriving at the soccer field and finding....no one. I grabbed my car keys and left Boy #1 at home with the portable phone in his hand, instructing him to call me immediately when (if?) Boy #2 arrived. I ran out the door and started to drive to the soccer field. Time now is 4:45. I am crazed. I drive up the highway, looking at both the road ahead of me and the cars traveling the opposite direction on the other side. I think I see her car, but I'm not sure. Could be an illusion. I call home and tell Boy #1 to go downstairs and open the garage door and stand in the garage with the phone. "He's home, Mom. I just heard the garage door open," he says. I breathe a sigh of relief and head for home. The demons and dangers lurking in my imagination, in every mom's imagination, have receded. I pull into the garage, go into the kitchen, and see a flushed and tired Boy #2 drinking a Frostee. "How was the game?" I asked. "Why were you so late?" "The game ran a little late and we stopped at Wendy's," he answered, happily slurping.

I called the other mother and told her to disregard the messages on her cell. "I just got myself a little worked up," I told her, "I should have gotten your cell phone number." I could tell she was a little offended. We had been in parallel Mom Universes--me trying to make sure my boy was safe, and she getting the soccer players an icy treat. We were both being good moms, each caught up in our own moment in time.

I know one thing, though, in the future I'll get a cell phone number and make sure the phone is ON.

Tennis, anyone?

Here in my town, there comes a time every year when all thoughts and conversation turn to.....Park District Tennis Sign-Up. Yes, it's quite the event here, mainly because if you get into a certain class you get first dibs on sign-up for that particular class for the rest of the year. So people go and literally camp out at the tennis facility because sign-up is on a first-come first-serve (no pun intended) basis. So the other day was the sign-up for kids' classes, and it started at 7 PM. I needed to sign up my younger son, Boy #2, and there were a couple of class options that would fit into his busy schedule. You know how it is--between soccer, Hebrew, and basketball--we still had a few openings available! So I drove up at 6:40 PM. I knew right away I should have come earlier and brought a little snack and perhaps a 300-page novel to pass the time--because the parking lot was totally full and the minivans and SUV's were even forced to park in the fire lanes. I, being a law-abiding citizen, parked legally down the road and walked toward the building. I ran into a woman whose kids go to my kids' school. "I'm having a hard time picturing my mother doing something like this!" I commented. "I know," she said, "and I'm really bad--I hired someone to sit there for me." I stopped in my tracks. "What?" I stuttered, "you mean, like a kid?" "Yes, " she answered "she's been there since 4". "Cool," I said weakly. "Damn!!" I thought to myself, "What a great idea!! Boy #1 has been home all afternoon--he could have been sitting here. A couple of bucks for the vending machines and he'd have been fine. I have to make a note for next year's sign-up."
Anyway, I walked in at about 6:42 and was #84. I got the class I wanted for Boy #2 and all's well that ends well! I was home by 7:20. Next year Boy #1 gets dropped off right after lunch. Maybe the last Harry Potter will just have come out and he'll never realize he's not on the couch at home.....
If you see my mom, let's just keep this between ourselves. She'd never understand.