Once again I took an unintentional hiatus from blogging. It's just that I've been trying to get back into the whole soccer mom groove and frankly, February soccer tournaments suck bunghole. Last Saturday I spent seven hours outside, freezing my butt off, sportin' the Bono look with a hat, hoodie over the hat, and large sunglasses (it's not a good look for me either. Hot as hell for Bono, not so cute for me) trying to cover every square inch of my face to prevent the hypothermia from setting in. The kid played four games, the spouse was coaching. So I was chillin (pun totally intended) alone on the opposite side of the field until my sister showed up for the last two games. I guess all that matters is Chloe had a good time. The fact that I bravely pust aside my own comfort for the love of my child is something that will go unnoticed....

Sidenote: That last bit was total sarcasm. I am NOT one of those martyred moms who give up their lives just because they gave birth. I'm proud of my daughter and love her more than anything on the whole fucking planet, but that doesn't mean I have to make her my sole, top priority in life. If that makes me sound selfish, so be it. I do the supermom thang, but the rugrat is fully aware that although I'm MOM, I'm also Angie the girl. That means sleepovers get shared. --ie. the kid gets a friend to stay the night Friday and I cater to them. Movies, popcorn, staying up late, video games, candy etc.... THEN Saturday night Mom and Dad get to have their sleepover while the kid goes to Grandma's house without bitching about it. See, I'm teaching my child to compromise while simultaneously paving the way for living room sex with the spouse. It's a win, win situation all the way around.

Wow. I got a little off track. Let's just say that I'm trying to prevent my beautiful, intelligent, soccer star that the only child syndrome is not for her. It's difficult to say the least, but we're working at it.

Hpoe everyone's Valentine's Day was awesome. I got my super hot spouse a Zune and a box of chocolates. The love was there, trust.