Crap. I'm Jeffrey's Mom.

Misery, thy name is Thursday.

Who us, misbehave?

Okay, maybe I'm being a little melodramatic. It happens. But I do feel like something the cat dragged in today. Yesterday was one of those busy, busy days. I set aside some time in the morning to do some work that didn't end up getting done, then drove all over the place in the pouring rain in the afternoon, collected the kids, fed them, dressed them in their new Celtics shirts, and got them to the basketball game in the middle of our very crowded little city - all by myself. The game started off okay -- the boys were excited but good; I got them the cotton candy I had promised along with a hideously-overpriced bottle of Aquafina, and we settled in to watch the team warm up.

Stink Eye Hamster disapproves

Within 5 minutes the woman in the seat in front of Danny was giving us the stink eye; then she asked him to stop kicking her chair.  And so it began.

The boys just could not sit still, and apparently all of the people around us had no children and no recollection of ever BEING children themselves. I'm not sure how many of you BOOBHs are familiar with New Englanders and their ways, so allow me to fill you in.

I love my people, but they are sometimes not an overly friendly bunch. Once you get to know them they're lovely and will give you the shirts off their backs, but crowds of strangers tend to be polite, reserved, and above all, quiet. I'm not a big sports person so this was one of my first times braving a bunch of die-hard fans who wanted to watch this pre-season game with ZERO interruptions, but let's just say that this is one of the main reasons that I've never gone to a baseball game. Quite simply, Red Sox Nation terrifies me. I wouldn't last two minutes among them.

They start 'em young

That being said, the row in front of us last night were not the friendly, "Oh, that's okay! He's just excited!" types of people. They were stink eye-givers to the Nth degree.

I want so badly to be a fun mom. I AM fun, damn it, so all I want is to be able to go to these functions and be goofy and have a good time with my kids.  Yet because I also seem to have a crippling fear of bothering other people, I wind up feeling like the uptight mom who's constantly correcting the kids. M was a wiggly mess by the end of the first quarter - a 40 lb. ball of sneakers and sticky hands who just wanted to run and be freeeeeeee. He kept lying on the disgusting stadium floor trying to worm his way towards the center aisle by army crawling under my legs.  Of course, I wasn't having any of that.

During the time-outs they'd play loud music & show other kids in the stadium boogying, so both the boys would dance, which I encouraged... except D's version of dancing involves making a weird angry face and punching his arms and legs out aggressively in all directions. M then imitates him, so I have two spasmodic punching machines surrounded by frowning, disapproving seat-mates. At one point as I struggled to hold M in my lap so he wouldn't make another break for it, he may or may not have graaaaaazed the head of the woman in front of me with his foot. She was not amused.

I love it when my face sweats

It was exhausting and my good spirits quickly vanished. Jim finally arrived at halftime, at which point both kids seemed to deflate and allow the fact that it was 90 minutes past their very strictly-enforced bedtime to sink in. We had a brief period of them sitting quietly with blank expressions on their faces while I told Jim why I was a sweaty, peevish mess. Their calmness didn't last though, and I finally grabbed my youngest and headed for the door just before the end of the 3rd quarter. At least I beat the traffic getting out of the parking garage, but still. S-s-suuuuuckage.

It will be a very long time before we attempt another professional sporting event; at least 3-4 years. Just thinking about it makes me exhausted all over again!  I was so excited about this event, but when all is said and done the whole thing left me frazzled, sweaty and discouraged.  I was, and am, Jeffrey's mom.



I don't wanna be Jeffrey's mom!

*sigh*

I adore my children, but I think I need to buy stock in Clairol what with all the gray hairs they're giving me lately!  We're taking the boys out of town this weekend on an overnight trip to a crowded city, so I can't wait to see what fresh hell Saturday will bring.  I am truly a glutton for punishment.