Football, Horses, and Impetigo. Oh my!

It's Monday morning.  I'm back at my desk -- and really should be working. 

Instead.  I'll update my blog.

Friday Night: 

Friday was the last football game in our "regular season".  As you can tell from the photos, Goose is a cheerleader for the peewee Panthers football team.  And I, Goose's Mom, am the coach of the cheer squad.  For those who know me well, this is hilarious.  Despite the skepticism of my family and friends, I have thrown myself into being "cheer coach" this season -- and have had the pleasure to work with 9 girls, ages 5 to 8, in teaching them some very basic cheers and leading them through their halftime routines on the 50 yard line this season.

Here is the squad, holding the banner for the very eager boys to run through.  The boys particularly love this part of the game, charging at the banner full speed ahead, then ripping it to shreds to show their manliness on the field. 

It has actually been more fun than I originally thought it would be.  Here's my girl at Homecoming.  She was escorted by the boy on her left.  So sweet.

I'm sorry to report that the Panthers lost on Friday night, despite the excellent cheering from the sidelines.  The regular season has come to an end.  I'll report about the playoffs soon.  I know everyone will remain on the edge of their seats until then.

Here's Goose doing a split (and sporting a very genuine smile) on Friday night when we got home.

I'm throwing in a shot of me and my boy - also taken on Friday night -- once we got home from the game.  Yes, I am wearing sweatpants that have holes in them.  Welcome to my life.

Horses:

Saturday, a girlfriend of mine and I piled our respective children into my minivan and headed to a local horse farm that was hosting a "festival" fundraiser.  I have much more to say about my girlfriend and her daughter.  They are such an important part of our lives.  Stay tuned for more information.

Here's a shot of Henry's first glance at a horse:

Do you think he and his sister liked it?

A good time was definitely had by all.  [Yes, we did pay $1 to have that young man push Goose around an obstacle course at full speed in a wheelbarrow. Poor fellow.]

Goose even got to ride a horse.

And an "action shot":

Henry was particularly fond of the cones. 

And the leaves.

And pretty much anything he could pick up.

Henry is one happy little boy -- especially when outdoors. 

Henry and Goose then went to my parents' house, Grammy and Pop Pop's, for dinner and play time while Whit and I went to my law firm's fall party -- a Low Country Boil held in our firm's back parking lot.  The music was great (and loud) the drinks were plentiful and the crab legs were drowning in butter.  A pretty good end to a nice day.

Impetigo:  Oh My!

I realized yesterday that the rash on my Goose's face was not contact dermatitis, as I had originally diagnosed.  My girlfriend (who I will write more about later) informed me yesterday as our girls were riding bicycles at the park that it was, in fact, impetigo.  YUCK.  Here's my girl before I realized she had some nasty infection on her skin:

And here she is after we went to the urgent care center and got an RX for antibiotics:

She looks pretty upset in the pic.  There's a reason for that - and it doesn't begin with "impetigo."  Goose was upset because her mother yelled at her as we were leaving the doctor's office.  I mean.  Really yelled.  She was trying to hand me my new beloved iphone (that I love so much it may be sinful) and thought that I had it in my hand.  I didn't.  She let go.  It fell.  The case cracked.  I felt a piece of my heart die.  And I snapped.

Poor thing.

I have since apologized to my daughter.  And told her I love her. 

Mothers snap. We're not perfect.  I'm still pretty new at this motherhood thing.  And I ask for my sweet girl's patience for the times when I sometimes lose my cool.  Because.  Lose my cool I will.  I am part Sicilian and part Irish.  That's what we do.  It doesn't mean we love our children any less.  Indeed, I cannot imagine a mother who loves her children more.  I can, however, imagine a mother with a calmer disposition.  Bless my children's hearts.  A calm mother they certainly do not have.