Okay, it's official.

I'm the biggest twit ever. The fam went to the balloon glow out near the airport last night. This morning, a friend's hubby asked me how it was. (We were waiting for our dd's soccer game to start.) I grumped: "Lame. The hot air balloons just SAT there on the ground. They never even took off." He looked at me oddly and then explained that that's what a balloon glow IS. They just sit on the ground, and periodically turn on the flame to make them...well...glow. [shrug] I'm such a doofus.

In other news, Elizabeth had her first game today in her summer league. I'm crazy about her coach. Practices under him are organized, productive, and encouraging. After today's game, I'm less jazzed about the league. We were told to be there at 7 sharp this morning, for team pics. So we were. The game was at 8. At about 8:30, between the first and second quarters of her game, Elizabeth's team finally got their pics taken. So not only did we arrive an hour before the game for no reason, I paid $16 for a picture of ten red faced, sweat-soaked girls. Huh. I was going to just not buy the picture, but Elizabeth started to cry and I'm an incurable pushover.

To add to the fun, the opposing team's coach was screaming his head off at his team, and there was very little positive encouragement coming from him. That's a pet peeve of mine. The kids are supposed to be having fun. Cool it with the drill sergeant garbage, eh? Also, one of Elizabeth's teammates seems to be a sour, overly competitive little stinker. One of the kids messed up a play, and this kid jumped all over her, finally making her cry. She did that a few other times to her own teammates. After the game, one mom went over and said something about it to the coach, for which I was profoundly grateful.

Aaaand, the icing on the cake. Elizabeth took a soccer ball to the face. She was about six feet in front of a kid on the opposing team, who has a pretty powerful kick for a little girl. Poor kid didn't even have time to flinch. That sucker practically knocked her off her feet. Thank goodness, it caught the side of her face, and not her nose. Of course, I had that "mommy moment" of envisioning a broken, bleeding nose anyway. Ugh. The game stopped, everyone crowded around her (yes, including me), while she sat on the ground crying. One wonderful mother arrived shortly behind me bearing an ice pack - I was way impressed with her foresight. So we got that on her face, she announced she wanted to stay with me for a while, and I consoled her with potato chips and PowerAde. (The red kind, natch.) When she finally stood up, the parents on the sidelines applauded. She did kind of enjoy that, but she was crying too hard to care much. The mother of the kid who kicked the ball came up to me and apologized, for goodness' sake. I kept telling her that it was an accident, and nobody was angry, but I think she felt bad anyway. I guess I'd feel rotten in her shoes too, but I wish she hadn't.
We had the "get back on the horse" pep talk, and I finally convinced her to get back in the game. Then the game ended. D'oh! Oh well.

I sent her to take a nap a little while ago - she was exhausted, and noticed that the side of her face is bruising nicely. Ugh.

Okay, it's official.