I, of course, forgot to get a photo of just Chloe in her cheerleading uniform. Next time....
I did manage to get some shots of Chloe with the entire cheer squad.
The football team managed to get trounced and I learned in our town that it is required dress code for mothers attending the game to dress in their best workout gear or to appear as if they have come from a 5 mile run while holding a skinny latte. Matt called it "the empowered mother look" and it is the in-style in our neck of the woods. To get dressed and style your hair is for the lazy.
I, however, got a workout of a different type. My workout instructor is a lively three-year-old boy and after thirty minutes at Chloe's football game I was worn out chasing him, taking him to the restroom, debating whether he should touch the goose poop on the field (I was on the NO side), trying to convince him to stop jumping on the metal bleachers, and simply keeping him from injuring himself.
I often think of the movie Spinal Tapwhen we are out and about with Oliver. You know the scene where Nigel is talking about his special amp that is "one louder" because it goes to 11? When you are out and about with Oliver, he's one louder. He's an 11.
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| "Mom, watch this..." as he slides down each step of the bleachers. |
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| "Mom, watch this..." as he does cartwheels through goose poop. |
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| "Mom, watch this..." as he runs ahead, refusing to stay on the sidewalk but either stradling the lawn/sidewalk or just the lawn. I must send out apology cards to my neighbors for finding their newspapers trampled upon, or ripped open, or thrown into the road (which I retrieved). |
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| "Mom, watch me chase the squirrel through these people's yard then fall flat on my face as I trip on the brick pavers lining their driveway." Also, take note that Oliver is barefoot, having stopped just long enough on the walk home to remove his shoes and leave them for me to pick up from someone's front walk. |
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