As wiped out as I was last night after a full weekend of activity, I still managed to bum myself out into an insomniatic state and ended up watching the U.S. Men's swimming team steal the gold from the Frogs who had stated in a recent press conference that the U.S .Team was theirs to poop on in the relay event. Suck it Frenchy, who's on the higher medal stand now. The look of defeat on their faces was priceless. The mood lift was temporary though.
What was I bummed out about? Well, today my kid starts 1st grade. She's been excited for a week (I NEVER got excited about going back to school EVER). I'm extremely happy that she's happy, but it's just another passing milestone that unmistakably means she's getting older.
Yesterday she invited a friend over to swim and the two of them gave ol' Tony no quarter. My pleas to give my fatass ten minutes to peacefully float along on my raft fell on deaf ears as they spent the better part of two hours turning me over into the water. As I exited the water in defeat, I sat and chatted up Mrs. Alva for a while and at one point the reality struck me: There will be a time, sooner than later, when she will NOT want me or her mom to hang out while she swims with her friends. It'll go something like this...
Her:"Mom can Kendra come over to swim?"
Mrs. Alva: "Sure, as a matter of fact, your father and I were going to jump in ourselves"
Her: "Nevermind, Whatev's. I'm gonna go hangout on Facebook for the next 42 hours instead..."
That will suck. I'll look like those French swimmers last night as they saw the scores flash up on the board.
I guess I just need to enjoy these days while I have them. We walked her to the bus stop together this morning and it was cool that she wanted us to be there with her. There were a bunch of other parents there, dad's in tow for the first day. All the kids were going apey and pinging all over the place. As the bus pulled away and I choked back a tear, like a stage curtain, it revealed a crowd of unaccompanied skulking pre-teens making their way to the corner stop for the next bus. They were all dragging these enormous bookbags on wheels and obvously bumming hard that their days of sleeping until noon had come to a seasonal end. Not a smile could be found anywhere. They looked like soldiers on the Batan death march.
Ah, I remember those days myself. Man, do I NOT want her to get that old. EVER.
But, she will.
At least college football starts in two weeks. sigh...