Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Field Hockey and Pink Hair

My 15 year old daughter phoned me from the beach today to tell me that one of her field hockey teammates would be dropping off an order form for her “spirit pack”. I will be required to write yet another check for a pair of field hockey sweat pants, sweat shirt, and long sleeved t-shirt (what the hell is it with long sleeved t-shirts, and why must she have one for every team, school, vacation destination etc.?) ”So Mommy can you pleeeeease write a check for $56.50 and fill out the order form, I need a small in everything (no she doesn’t, she’s 5’8 - granted she’s invisible when she turns sideways, but tall nonetheless).”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I replied wearily (I had just sat down to eat my dinner - tuna noodle casserole in case you’re wondering - kick ass I might add, and honestly I just wanted to eat - I had just spent 2 hours at lenscrafters with my husband helping him pick out new eye glass frames-don’t hate me because my life is glamorous!). ”Ok Abby, hey are you having fun at the beach?” I asked. “What? Oh yeah, oh and Mom, by the way, I just want to warn you (Oh crap, here it comes - warn me what? You now have a safety pin through your nose, you have a tatoo of Taylor Lautner on your shoulder, your a Republican, a methodist, what, what, what for God’s sake?) Well, the back of Pearson’s and my hair is pink . . . just temporarily, sort of.” Thinking to myself - I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what Pearson has done to her hair, but I did just a few months ago shell out a ridiculous amount of money for your hair to be highlighted - in the big girl salon where I go no less. “O…k… define temporary please,” I asked summoning as much serenity as I could.

At this point, my husband’s crisis radar was up and running. He came to a dead stop between the kitchen and dining room, and not because he was tangled in the phone cord and didn’t want to put down his plate of tuna noodle casserole to free himself. ”Um it should be gone by next week … I think,” she answered shakily. I nodded reassuringly at my husband. “Fine, ok, enjoy the rest of the week, we miss you.” “I miss you too, oh I’m going to text Brianna now, and tell her to call you, so have your cell on. K bye!”

“Kbye!” ”Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” she said wearily.

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