Toilet Parenting Fail, Gas Station Edition

I’ve read a few parenting books over the years, but there are common sense life skills authors seem to miss out on, namely the art of using public restrooms without touching anything.

This is when I wish I had some mad Criss Angel levitating skills to pass down to my girls, but the hover over the toilet seat technique will do, provided you remember to emphasize how important it is to not touch any porcelain surfaces in a public restroom setting.

Last Saturday we had the craziest day imaginable and I just kept telling myself if we could make it through the day that the rest of this month, heck the rest of this year, would be a breeze. It was one of those days where we had to stick to a strict timetable, as well as reapply our deodorant 500 times.

Miss C had an 8 a.m. soccer tournament game an hour from our house in Smyrna, Tennessee, and we left our house fully caffeinated at 6:30 to make it to the fields in time for pre-game practice. We also had a 3 p.m. wedding in Cadiz, Kentucky, near Land Between the Lakes which is a 2-hour drive from our house, in an entirely different direction. Inbetween all this was Miss A’s first regular soccer league game at 11:45. I hadn’t even mentioned her game to her because I just didn’t see how we’d make it but then she pulled the ole, “It’s OK if we miss my game, Miss C’s is more important,” and that shot a dagger of mama guilt straight through my heart. 

We got home from the morning tournament around 11, though, and my husband declared, “We are going to Miss A’s game!” We scrambled to get as ready for the wedding as we could within reason. He and I wore most of our wedding attire to the soccer fields (he just had to change from a t-shirt to a dress shirt and I wore hot pink flip flops with my sleeveless silk dress) and I packed the girls’ dresses and dress shoes in the car, with the plan to stop somewhere en route off the interstate for a quick change either in the car or in a gas station or fast food restaurant bathroom.

I know. We’re crazy. But as hubby said at one point it was the good kind of crazy you can share with your family.

We left Miss A’s soccer game with about 5 minutes left of play since it was getting close to 1 p.m. and we needed to get on the road for Kentucky if we were going to make it to the 3 p.m. wedding. About an hour into the drive to the wedding we stopped for gas, because of course our tank was nearly empty. Knowing we had no time to spare, I grabbed Miss C’s hand and ran to the gas station bathroom so she and I could use the restroom and she could change into her dress. Miss A changed into her dress in the back of the car while hubby filled our gas tank.

Now gas station bathrooms are hit or miss. This one was bordering on full-on disgusting so my freak out dialogue went something like this:

Uh yuck.

OK don’t touch ANYTHING!

DON’T SIT on that SEAT! Hover, hover! Like this!

I proceeded to hover in the air over an imaginary toilet and prayed there was no hidden camera in the soap dispenser.

We made it through the toilet ordeal and then I helped Miss C tear out of her soccer uniform and slip into a black and white strappy sundress. She’d brought her dress shoes into the restroom and then proceeded to nonchalantly take her Crocs off and step onto the floor barefoot….the floor of the disgusting gas station bathroom.

I decided then and there not to have an OCD mom meltdown and have an extra glass of wine at the wedding instead.

We made it to the wedding with 5 minutes to spare.

New Kid On The Block

First Soccer Practice


We have finally succumbed to the dual soccer season madness. Our soccer league starts at age 3 so we have waited a while, considering Miss A will be 5 in a few weeks. Don’t get me started on that. It will be a Hallmark moment on crack.


She did really great at her first practice, although she was a little shy. At one point she looked over at us and gave us a big thumbs up. She’s a tough cookie so I think she’ll be kicking some soccer booty once she gets the hang of the game (remember she didn’t cry while she had her eye stitched up last fall.)


We lucked up and the girls don’t have any game conflicts so the hubby and I can make all their games. They both practice on Tuesday afternoons, though, so we’ll each be taking one of the girls. And of course Miss A’s practice is no where near Miss C’s.


However, let’s talk about this. Miss A has FOUR 8:30 a.m. games. Ouch! I feel like a college freshman who’s been told that must take class is only available before 9 a.m. Plus March mornings are downright cold. There was one March game a few years ago when it was snowing. And we won’t talk about all the rained out games.


Yeah, yeah, I know I need to suck it up. Soccer is big in our community so we’ll be freezing our butts off with all the other parents.


Still, l think I’ll start a campaign for Starbucks delivery service to our soccer fields.

Maybe I’ll Bronze Her First Soccer Cleats

Miss C made a goal at her second soccer game of the season, bringing her grand total of two goals so far this early in the season to a number surpassing her entire spring season. It’s so exciting to see her make goals because last year she was starting to get discouraged. She’d drive the ball down the field, but could never quite make it in the goal. Of course hubby and I both gave her the “it doesn’t matter if you score a goal” talk, but she was still getting really frustrated toward the end of last season until she finally made a goal. This year, although she is one of the shorter girls on the team (a trait I always had the honor of holding during all my school years), she’s also one of the fastest.

Three of Miss C’s teammates are from the original team that began playing in the fall of 2006. One of the girl’s moms marveled with me at our first practice at how much older the girls seem now. Then this weekend, because I am prone to bouts of “what happened to my baby” episodes, I was looking at pictures from that fall and found their first team group photo. The girls look so much more grown up. It’s hard for me to believe that in just two short years and five seasons of soccer that Miss C has gone from looking like this little pony tailed 4-year-old:


To this pony-tailed 6-year-old:

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