Where's The Fahking Soccer Ball?

Holy cripes. Ten minutes ago this house was total pandemonium with two kids plus a friend trying to get ready for soccer practice at the same time but going to two different fields at two different locations in this little hamlet of ours. Of course the kids NEVER put their shit back where it belongs after the previous practice or game, so we're in a mad dash around the house to find: balls, cleats, shinguards, socks, water bottles, snacks (currently, Z-Bars by Clif) and appropriate shorts and tops. This entire process leads to bouts of screaming and physical altercations.

See, here's the crux of the problem. When the kids come home--as they will in about an hour and a half--the smart thing for all of us to do would be to carefully disrobe/gather all materials needed for soccer the next time and put them in the soccer backpack. However, this will not happen. Why? Because we're all so freakin' exhausted from pulling off the initial preparation and event that we have no more energy for the final cleanup.

And so, predictably, it happens all over again.

I was lucky enough to get a pass on all responsibilities tonight after all got out the door. Neighbor took one child this way, wife took other child that way. Wife picks up everyone at 6:30.

So here I am, wasting time. And by the way, it took me one hour to find my team jersey today--the one I haven't worn since returning from vacation in Cali. It was under a pile of clothes in the closet, not in my pile of bike shit in the basement. Do you sense a pattern and problem here?

Anyway, Zank is clean and ready, stuff is packed, gonna get some food for the road, and heading out to Jersey in the morning for first cross race of the season. Nice.



(but there won't be no mud tomorrow, fo sure)