My CRS [Can't Remember Sh*t] has been flaring up again lately.
Like, my cuz had asked me to look after - notice I didn't say babysit - the kids this past Friday & Saturday coz she'd be gone. She knows me well, coz she asked me like 2 months ago to do it & I completely forgot about it, and she was smart enough to remind me again Thursday. I'd been all riled up to go help my mans-'n-ems V^6 mess with his car all weekend long but that couldn't work out, and was gonna go over Saturday night after cuz got back but that wasn't meant to be either, coz boss-man called me up Saturday afternoon and I had to go in to work. Worked today too. There goes my weekend.
Had fun with the kids tho, as always. The eldest, the girl, is away at college, and that usually makes my job light-years easier, coz the boys typically get along OK but throw the girl in the mix and it's war. But it still got a little rowdy, as you might imagine.
Seeing how there's a big ol' kid inside me still, it's only natural I should enjoy buggin' out with the boys. Like, no sooner had I walked in through the door than the 9-year-old threw a basketball at me. I saw it in my peripheral vision but it was too late - he got me good on the right side of my face. Needless to say that sparked off a 10-minute battle, the kind that usually ends up with something breaking or someone doubled up in agony.
Then, the other boy, [nicknamed Young Jock, natural athlete: plays football, basketball, soccer & track] now taller than I, yawns, stretches, comes right up to me and punches me right in the guts. Luckily I'd seen that one coming so I'd tightened the abs up, and that was the beginning of another lengthy battle. These youngns can go at it all day, so after I surrendered they went at each other, which usually ends up with the youngest bawling. *sigh* Boys will be boys.
I guess everyone has someone they tussled with on the regular when younger. Shoot, I remember my 2 elder brothers going at it behind the house, coming back in all muddy & bloody, then doing it all over again the following day. My Moms even got them boxing gloves so they wouldn't seriously hurt each other. But they remained best of friends. The cat I played & fought with every day was my best friend, neighbor & cousin. Dude, we went at it all the time, getting back to our respective cribs all cut up, getting our asses beat by our respective parents for fighting in the first place, and we'd do it all over again the following day. Those were the days.
I haven't gotten into a real brawl in years, and sometimes I wonder if I still have it. But I'm too grown to go out there fighting: So I whop someone's ass, or they wipe the floor with mine. Why go through all that when we can talk about it and part ways with our teeth intact? That's how I carry it. But sometimes I feel like straight socking some cats right in their mouths, truth be told.
And seeing how I went buck-wild with the youngns Friday & Saturday, I woke up this morning h-u-r-t-i-n-g. I took my shirt off, looked in the mirror and damned if I don't have a big ol' bruise on my right shoulder, a graze on the ribcage and a near-shiner where the b-ball got me, but I couldn't stop grinning. Nothing like a little pain to remind me of my own mortality, and to add fuel to the ol' physical fitness fire: trying to get the 6-pack back. Getting there though.
Alright, time to hit the sheets earlier than usual, thanks to that doggone daylight-saving time.