Birthdays, balls and me not having my shit together. So, business as usual.

Why do I even bother putting stuff in draft form? Every time I'm stuck for a blog post I look at the drafts folder and everything there is as useful as tits on a bull. Once I saw Teri Garr on Letterman and she said she always writes things down on cue cards so when she goes on talk shows she'll have witty comments ready, and then right before she goes on she looks at them and they say things like "Khadafi goes to Moscow. Chicken on a stick". That's how it goes with me and draft posts.

Both my kids have birthdays at the beginning of a month. Since they were actually born on those days, at the beginning of those months, one could argue that it's been happening this way for as long as I've known them, and one would be indisputably correct. One might wonder why, then, I never realize that I have to get my ass in gear for birthday-party-type preparations not too late in the month BEFORE the aforementioned birthday months, if we don't want to be scrambling around at the last minute. But no. Every year the end of January or April rolls around and I'm going "Shit! Where are we having your birthday party? Who's coming? What do you mean you don't hang out with him any more? What are we going to do? No, we can't have an actual fire. What do I tell people to get you? What do you mean you don't want anything? Fine, I'll tell them to donate to charity instead and they'll think I'm a douchebag, NO PROBLEM."

We spent a few minutes looking for the phone number of one boy Angus wanted to invite, couldn't find it, so I went to the computer and typed out Canada.411.com, and then the three of us suddenly all looked up at each other from various points in the room and realized we were being morons since they're on the same spring baseball team. The mother had emailed us saying it was her son's dream come true - my husband as a coach (he's an awesome coach) and no chance of going up to bat and having to face Angus as a pitcher. Last year one small kid actually refused to stay at the plate for his third strike - it was like "he hasn't hit me yet, and I LOVE LIFE MORE, you bastards!"

Eve is playing softball this year, having gotten weary of the Minor boys with their abundance of strength and their dearth of accuracy using her for a ball target. She says she felt the softball and "I thought it would be more of a hence-the-name thing", meaning it didn't feel all that soft, but we've managed to convince her that the likelihood of being hit as often or having it hurt as much in softball is small. On the plus side for me, now Angus will still be playing two games a week but softball is ONLY ONE.

Yesterday I was headachy and hormonal and we had barbecued hot dogs and hamburgers on Sunday night so I decided we would just have leftovers after we got home from music lessons. Then Angus told me that he would like some San Francisco Giants clothing for his birthday so I stopped pulling stuff out of the refrigerator to look up where we could get San Francisco Giants clothing. Matt came home in the middle of this and then Eve wandered down because dinner was late and she was hungry, so I started just shoving food at people while Angus and Matt looked up fantasy baseball stuff and Eve helped out by making fun of players' names and they were talking about some guy who was a janitor before he played for the MLB and I said "does he bat clean-up?" and Angus said "HE TOTALLY DOES" and then after Angus said he wished all our dinners were like this, and I thought he meant the heartwarming and witty family banter, but when I said "what do you mean" he said "I mean I eat a hot dog and Kraft Dinner while Dad reads me stuff about Fantasty Baseball". But I was pretty happy anyway.