Last week I learned two things about Christian volleyball (this will relate to Kate, I promise... bear with me here...): 1) You cannot wear beer-related shirts to games (rather embarrassing to have to turn my shirt around. Even worse that I almost started to pull it off in the middle of the gym and then realized that chances are, the woman who reprimanded me about my shirt, probably didn't want to see me in a sports bra), and 2) You cannot cuss (I have yet to nail down the particulars on what this means).
I have a problem not cussing. The words just seem to fly out of my mouth before I realize. And while I don't usually see this as a problem, I now see some potential for a problem.
Today though, when I was nearing a lunch disaster, my fears were revealed to be unfounded.
Kate had a lovely lunch of cereal mixed with bananas, peaches and raspberries. Seriously, this baby food tastes like the smoothies I pay $4 for on the weekends. Sp-oooiiiiled. I get up to grab something crucial -- what escapes me at the present time, but I know that it was life or death that I get it at that moment. When I turn around I see my dear little Kate, bowl of cereal in her hand, slowly tilting it to her face. I imagine cereal everywhere -- face, floor, dog.
"No! Kate, no!" I yell and run, poetically and speedily, to her side.
"You are SO PROACTIVE!"
I pause.
Did I really just say that? "Proactive?" That was what I chose to say in that moment? Huh.
Good mama. There's hope for me yet.
I'm still patting myself on the back over that one.
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