Eric had his first basketball practice on Tuesday. He talked all the way to practice about how he was going to shoot a thousand and one hoops. Not just a thousand, mind you, but a thousand and ONE. That extra shot was going to be the bomb.

I tried to prepare Eric, without damaging his self confidence, that basketball isn’t only about shooting hoops. There are rules to the game. No traveling. No fouling. All the things that would make the game extra awesome is forbidden. Sucks. I know. I played basketball in school. My father coached basketball. And my husband plays basketball with his friends on the weekends. Granted, my husband and his friends are all thirty-somethings, sporting love handles and got a tad bit of nerd flair going on, but still. They’re playing basketball. And since they are nerds, they play by the rules.

When Eric got to practice, I watched and my heart tore a bit. The five other kids on his team were like little Michael Jordans. My son was the one traveling and fouling whenever he got a chance. He wasn’t deterred when some of them would scream, “YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” He’d just shrug and said he’d try to remember the next time. When it came to playing a game, my son was jumping around, waving his arms, and screaming, “I’m OPEN! I’m OPEN!” Which would have made perfect sense… if you know, he was near the right goal and not on the opposite side of the court.

His first game is Saturday. I’m pretty sure he’s going to shoot the ball in the hoop a thousand and one times. That last one… will be in the right hoop.

I’m sitting on the couch trying to tune out the noise that often occurs when one decided not to watch a re-run of Matlock and procreate instead when I heard my husband yell, “That’s it, I’m taking away your ZUNE and PSP.”

The hysterics that came afterwards were nothing short of amazing. Our eleven year old daughter fell to her knees and screamed “NO!!!!” over and over again. It was like a scene from some off the wall B movie in which fake emotion is the highlight of the entire show.

We’ve reached the preteen years with our eldest daughter. I was preparing my life for the teenage years, since anyone whose ever had a teenager loves to tickle my ear with how ‘wonderful’ it is. This daughter I gave birth to eleven years ago has turned into Hannah Montana on berserko pills. Everything is a tragedy and everything I do from breathing to well, breathing is done to spite her.

She’s a good kid, a beautiful girl with a huge heart and can be very helpful around the house. Yet, she’s giving me a run for my money on this whole hormone thing. I can’t ever remember saying “NO” so loudly with intent and meaning like that. I hope she keeps that word laced to her tongue with that much urgency when she starts dating.

Or just develops a love for reruns of Matlock.

I decide to take a nice quiet bath.

I grab some bath salts that I’ve been wanting to use. Sensuous Bath Salts. I look at the directions which reads: The allure of dead sea salts makes soaking in a warm bath your passage to romantic expression. Add music and candles.

I don’t have music, nor candles, and romance is the last thing on my mind. Instead of candles, I opt for regular bathroom light, dimmed only because one bulb blew out. No romance, but I enjoy the latest issue of Cosmo. 

And instead of music, I have my four year old behind the locked bathroom door begging to be let in and asking meaningful questions such as “Why you lock the door for?” “Why can’t I comez in?” “Do you know the door is locked, Mommy?” “Are you still taking a bath?” “Did you know that Blue’s cousin Magenta is the color magenta?”

I really should take baths more often and nix showers all together. I’m waiting for her to ask if I know the meaning of life because I seem to know everything when I’m in the bathtub.

I’m exhausted.

Not just a little tired, but completely and unequivicolly exhausted. For the past two weeks, I’ve been working 10-15 hour days, which I know in the past I’ve worked more considering I like to be pregnant and pop babies out every other minute. Somehow, despite the constant fullness of boobs and raw nipples, that didn’t feel much like work. Torture…MAYBE, but certainly not work. Love is kind like that.

I was silly to think that once I started my own business, I would have more time. Just chalk that up to another reason why Jaime shouldn’t think. Do I regret leaving my job to start this business? No. Absolutely not. I love it. I love my clients, I love what I do. All I need right now is more time or an assistant… and of course, more money, but that is just a given.

I’ve read your emails that my entries are becoming sporadic again. I’d like to kindly point out that as the writer of this blog I am aware of when I post. One of the perks of having one’s own blog… you get to know in advance when you post. Isn’t that the coolest?? One reader decided to email me and point out that I’ve lost the comic side of my writing. I wrote back and told him it was a true shame he couldn’t see me when I wrote my entries as when I write I’m drooling at the mouth and have a nervous twitch. Isn’t that a riot? My make believe gerbil thinks so.

He also likes to drink out of the toilets.

Next Sunday, I’m working a booth at a Wedding Expo for my other business. My husband is not happy that I’m a Passion Party consultant. In fact, when I told him I wanted to do this for some extra cash and have a little fun, he snapped, “Do you really want to be associated with dildos?”

I sighed. I didn’t go into the fact that Passion Parties isn’t about dildos and he had no problem testing out all the merchandise I’ve purchased. I didn’t even say how much HE loved the fun we’ve been having with said merchandise. I simply said, “Too late for that, honey. I’m married to you.”

You can imagine how the rest of that day went.

Until Next Time…

Christmas 2007 was a lot of fun. I got jewelry from the husband and he got a mini fridge. I did not, however, get a laptop.

The kids and the husband are still on Christmas Break. I’m not. At this very moment, I’m secluded in my small office tucked away in the corner of my bedroom, WORKING. I can’t help but think that if I had a laptop, I could do work anywhere… like a bar with WiFi.

Seriously, we had a wonderful Christmas, a laid back New Year, but I’m ready to get back to our regular routine. And by regular routine, I mean the kids and the husband back in school and back to work.

Did I mention that I didn’t get a laptop for Christmas?

Check out Passion in Alaska.

All monies will go to a good cause: Jaime’s Laptop Fund.