So I’m flipping out about my 14-year-old son and getting him in front of college coaches. It shouldn’t be like this but it is……via College Sports Recruiting – Hot Mess Memoir
Ladies, you’re amazing and people don’t tell you that enough! The stuff we have to do EVERY SINGLE DAY is crazy! via Mothers are Mutha’ F***** Amazing- Happy Mother’s Day! – Hot Mess Memoir
There are 2 days a year I can sleep in without guilt: Mother’s day and my birthday. When you screw with that, we’re going to have problems via A Letter to the Soccer Organization that Schedules S*** on Mother’s Day – Hot Mess Memoir
It’s true! At 42-years-old, I became prom queen at the hotel we were staying at for a soccer tournament. I even have the pics to prove it via I Became Prom Queen Last Night! – Hot Mess Memoir
Grab your weekend bag and some wine because we’re goin’ on a road trip! via We’re Goin’ on a Road Trip Friends! – Hot Mess Memoir
I’ve done so many “how to be a decent human being” posts (you can find those at my self-hosted blog in the top menu btw) via How to Be a Decent Human Being as a Soccer Mom or Dad – Hot Mess Memoir
The soccer mom life chose me….
And yet again another pouring morning I have the honor of sitting in for a soccer game. And for anyone that says “your gonna miss this,” no I’m not. I’m going to miss them being young and adorable sure but the go, go, go; sitting in the freezing rain? I’ll miss that about as much as I still miss Sister Mary Helen in 3rd grade which bordered on mental abuse every day in the classroom. This blows.
Last year my son went to 5th grade camp. One of the items stressed to be brought was deodorant. As the 28 year old, creepy Camp Director explained,
“Cause there’s nothing like 50 ripe smelling boys in the middle of the day,” he giggled, making all the moms uncomfortable at the thought of sending their sons with this man for 72 hours.
Up until today I really haven’t smelled my son’s BO…too often. Really, I could count it on one hand. Sure, him and his brother fall on the floor in a meltdown when you request they take a shower. Or, they can’t possibly fathom my demand that they will be taking a shower EVERYDAY come summer. I know, I’m such a terrible mother.
So every so often I would attempt to keep the deodorant dream alive with hints like,
“Hey, I packed some deodorant for you for your overnight with grammy.”
“I’ll give you $5 if you wear deodorant.”
Tonight after soccer practice, P got in the car and suddenly a new odor began to envelope my surroundings. It smelled of gym socks and pine and mildew. I pondered how to effectively get the point across about this growing BO problem.
‘Fuck it,’ I thought. ‘He isn’t taking my hints seriously and this is for his own good.’
With the calmness of a pilot explaining to the passengers our flight time, I said, “P, I’m gonna need you to get in the shower when we get home as you really do stink.”
There, I said it and he took offense.
“Geeze mom, talk about being blunt. Uh, maybe I stink cause I just finished practice?”
“And I get that but dude, start using deodorant.” I was breathing through my mouth while talking and doing this was proving to be difficult.
Had I not been blunt there would have been a whine fest and not the good kind of wine fest that I like. He would have taken his smelly little ass and plopped right down on the sofa rattling off 50 reasons why not to shower.
So there, that’s my story on how my child prefers to smell like a bum that pissed himself, living under a bridge. Go hygiene!
This morning I lost my shit. I was done. Done with with the shit hole motel we were assigned to, done with the ridiculous soccer schedule and done with the jacked up road system that is Southern Cincinnati.
P’s game this morning was at 8 am. Now, he had a game at 7:15 last night so we had roughly a 12 hour window between games to do things like sleep and eat. Oh wait, no…11 hours because the moron that scheduled these games didn’t take into account daylight savings time.
- Last night I had washed P’s uniform in the sink.
“Why not take it to the washer and dryer on site like every motel/hotel has had since 1990, Hot Mess?”
Well folks, it’s because our motel was so ghetto-tastic that they didn’t have an f’ing washing machine/dryer on site. I get that they want to give you the whole experience of Kentucky and living by the Ohio river for a few nights but if they think for one second I am taking my son’s uniform down to the Ohio river and washing it, they’ve got another thing coming.
After washing his uniform in the sink with the Tide Pods I had brought to use in a WASHING MACHINE, I rung out the uniform and hung it up to dry for 6 hours. 6 hours later itwas still damp so I had to use the hair dryer that was connected to the wall to dry it. This became a challenge considering 3 other people had to use the restroom and 1/2 of the time it was to shit.
2. Liquor City
I cannot get over that there is literally a liquor store in the parking lot. What the hell was Paris Hilton thinking when she chose this land……oh….now I get it. Well that makes sense:
I actually saw the liquor store as a perk except for the occasional hobo in the parking lot. All I wanted was a good Cab and didn’t want any trouble.
3. Possessed coffee maker
Yesterday morning I fished through the 3 foil packets only to discover they were all decaf. I heard the Housekeeper in the hall so I approached her for regular. This decaf thing was pretty cruel. She was helping an older Gentleman who heard my question. He went back into his room, 610 and returned 15 seconds later with his regular coffee packets. I thanked him and returned to my room.
I began making my coffee. All went well until I grabbed the completed cup and was burnt by a sudden burst of air that caused hot water to splash on my arm. I’m not Mc Donalds and the hot pickle incident but I did rip the machine out of the wall and took the little ass hole down to the front desk. Normally this would be the point in time they would offer me a complimentary dinner, breakfast or free wifi but seeing we were in a hovel, the front desk clerk had NOTHING to offer me. She simply took it and said she would get me a new one.
4. Half cleaned room
I think I’m a pretty good hotel guest. I tip all the time, clean up after myself and make sure everything is picked up so my room can be cleaned properly. After returning to our room after the first soccer game, I hit the restroom in our room. I deduced that our room had been cleaned as we had fresh towels, the trash was removed and they did the following tacky thing with our shower curtain:
I walked into the room afterwards and found the bed completely unmade. What the hell? Not only are we paying $75 more than what this room is worth but now what do I do? If I go out to the Housekeeper who’s making $7.35 an hour and declare, “You didn’t make my bed. You need to get back in my room and make it,” I am going to feel like one of those bitches in The Help. I wondered how many other people didn’t have their bed made. I’m guessing the carpet wasn’t swept either.
Because she did hook me up with extra toiletries that I had requested (my hair requires a TON of shampoo) I decided to not say anything and just make it myself.
5. Bathroom odor
Starting last night, our bathroom began to smell as if someone was on their period. I’m not on mine and no other female as visited our room except the cleaning lady. I was not going to dig through the trash can either to confirm this theory. There was nothing we could do. My youngest, C, declared this morning while wrinkling his nose, “Mom, what is that smell?” I couldn’t wound him for life and tell him what I thought it smelled like. I just had to empathize with him and count the hours down till we were gone.
6. The icing on the cake
I went on Trip Advisor this evening to see if other had had similar experiences or if I was just being a brat. I was horrified to find the following review:
OUR ROOM WAS 611.
Hot Mess Hits the Road This will tell you about our planned trip to Cincinnati and why.
So at 12:30, the family was in the SUV bound for Cincinnati, actually Covington, Ky for a weekend soccer tournament. I had plans to fire up the ole’ laptop and get some work done while my husband drove us but I quickly realized I was needed in other areas for our journey.
My husband was at the wheel and I would like to describe his driving style. My husband feels that if he is in the passing lane and he is 3′ behind you, you are to move. Immediately. When most people don’t abide by this, he rides their ass, going 80 mph. This makes me absolutely batty, causing me to feel the necessity to watch the road as if I were the driver. We continued to go between 80 and 90 the entire way there, riding someone’s ass 3/4 of the time. When I brought this up, his response was:
“You wanna drive?”
‘No ass hole, I just want to get there alive.’ Was my first thought.
“I just don’t want to rear end someone.”
The bridge from Cincinnati to Kentucky was a disaster. Cars were merging everywhere. I didn’t even know there were that many people in Kentucky to cause this issue. My sons did not realize this was stressful for both mom and dad and continued to chatter about absolutely nothing. It hit a fever pitch when my husband firmly said,
“GUYS! Can you stop chattering for like 2 minutes? Just 2 minutes. JESUS!” This exchange was occurring while I’m looking down into the Ohio River thinking, ‘One false move and we swim with the fishes.’
Thankfully, our ghetto-tastic Hampton Inn was immediately the first exit, once off the bridge. A gabillion other hotels, either the same cost or lower and we pick this hovel? Just as we turned in, I suddenly realized why this hotel was selected for soccer tournaments:
‘Everything is gonna be ok,’ I thought. ‘Everything is gonna be ok.’ Do you see what is literally in our parking lot? Fun fact: according to my husband, at one point, Cincinnati was dry. Covington, Ky took this as an opportunity to offer what the city would not. Even as we turned on to our street, there was this liquor superstore that seemed to be as big as a Best Buy
From a Trip Advisor review, the views of the Ohio River are “just lovely” from one side of the Hampton Inn. When my husband checked in, I asked that he request a top floor, preferably over looking this majestic scene.
Apparently this review was written by a Hampton Inn employee as the view is more reminiscent of a crime scene or the backdrop of Silence of the Lambs. I already saw a hobo and his dog hanging out right when I walked to the window to check out the “lovely view.” Thank God I didn’t waste $10 using The Sandwich Trick to get this view. I would have gone back downstairs and asked for it back.
So now I’m up here alone because I sent the boys out with another father for wings and boys time. I don’t like wings and I can only take so much soccer talk.
My room is a complete shit hole but of coarse I knew that going in because I did research. Hampton Inn fools you thinking they have remodeled by showing the one place they did remodel:
The rooms haven’t been touched since probably 1998. Here is our piss color room:
I asked for 2 queen beds so our sons would not wake up feeling like they were 80 from the sofa bed. Of coarse that is too modern for this hotel as they only offer a King with a sofa or 2 doubles.
The hotel is almost full because apparently this is the hotel de choix for not only the soccer tournament but a girl’s basketball team and a local Mary Kay convention.
So alas, I am going to get my shoes and walk over to Liquor City. I hope they have wine and not Boones Farm wine. If they don’t have wine, I’ll have to go to the superstore a 1/2 mile away.
P.S. C is hoping to see Colonel Sanders while in Kentucky. I told him it’s a definite possibility.