Softball - I'll take the blog fodder where I can find it.

So hey, we went to Big Daddy's softball game last night, and I have the following observations:

My husband and I must really get into shape; he had to run from 1st to home, and I swear in that last stretch he was about to stroke out.

Do you think some people are just missing the Tact Gene? Two women sat a few feet behind me and discussed me, AND I COULD HEAR THEM! People, either include me in the conversation or move away so I can't hear you!

And by the way, I just hate it when people find out my children are adopted and say things like, "Oh, they look just like sisters!" or "They look like they could be yours!" HI, THEY ARE SISTERS AND THEY ARE MINE. People, I try so hard not to be overly sensitive, but COULD YOU PLEASE THINK ABOUT HOW THAT SOUNDS? How about "They look just like you!" That sounds so much nicer, don't you think? And I don't mind if you ask me when the girls can't hear you, "Are they biological siblings?" SO. I think we've covered that sufficiently.

There is a lady who works at the softball fields who brings her age 4-ish little girl to the fields and lets her roam around. Everywhere. This poor child has no protection or supervision. She has a Game Boy and candy all the time, so I don't think money is an issue. It's just attention. So she comes up and tries to drink my kids' drinks or stick her hand in their popcorn, and that's when I get freaky, because y'all, I don't know where this kid's hands or mouth have been. And since she has access to all the concession stand food she wants, I don't see where telling her NO is being unChristian. Last night my girls and their friend were sharing a soft pretzel, and she came up and tried to take part of it. I told her she needed to go tell her Mom she wanted a pretzel. And folks, she came back with a big fat pretzel of her own, which she set down and never picked up again.

Am I ranting? Because I feel like I'm ranting. But am incapable of stopping.

And because I feel compelled to prove that I am, indeed, compassionate, I will tell you that for three years I worked with women and children who were infected with HIV and AIDS. I loved them, hugged them, I kissed their sweet cheeks, I wiped their tears, and I was not afraid of them or their viral loads. But with this little kid, I'm more concerned with flu, viruses, bacteria, and the epizootis. And we're not talking about ME; we're talking about MY KIDS, and that's a whole different ball game.

Anyway.

Oh, and American Idol is on again. I forgot to watch it last night, but not tonight, oh no sir. I'm there.

I'm gonna shut up now. If you haven't commented before, this might be a good time to come out of the shadows and tell me you feel me. Or that you don't, if you do it nicely.