Because of just 5″, my son is not allowed to attend in-person classes or high school soccer. Here’s the timeline of events over the past week and what I’m doing to get him back to class and playing soccer.
Tag: soccer
College Sports Recruiting
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
Mothers are Mutha’ F***** Amazing- Happy Mother’s Day!
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
A Letter to the Soccer Organization that Schedules S*** on Mother’s Day
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
I Became Prom Queen Last Night!
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
We’re Goin’ on a Road Trip Friends!
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
How to Be a Decent Human Being as a Soccer Mom or Dad
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
I Didn’t Choose The Soccer Mom Life….
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.
Let’s Be Real, You Stink
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.”
or
“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!
Travel Log- Day 3- My Issues With Hampton Inn, Covington, Ky
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.
hotmessmemoir.com 