2.) Have them yell at you because “You never told me we were going?!?!?”
3.) Ram head into wall.
4.) Arrive late at the game because you can’t get your stuff together and need to run errands by yourself while the kids stay in the car with your poor husband. Who is starting to grouse about not actually getting to the game.
5.) Arrive at game. Walk six miles to get to stadium. Walk two miles to get to seat. Sit down. “Mommy? Can I have pizza?”
6.) Go on an eight thousand year odyssey to find pizza which used to be ALL OVER THE DAMN PLACE and is NOW NOT. It is in one corner on the first floor and you can only get whole pizzas and it takes 7-10 minutes.
7.) Get text from husband saying, “Squeaks doesn’t want pizza anymore. She wants cheese fries.” Reply, “Too bad.”
8.) Stop at bar to get your first cocktail. Give them a kidney for a thimblefull of sweet, sweet nectar.
9.) Return to seat. Watch five seconds of baseball.
10.) Leave on a five-thousand year journey to get dinner for yourself.
11.) Stop at bar to get second cocktail. Give them final kidney. Receive another long island.
12.) Return to seat to clamoring for ice cream or dippin dots or whatever. Say no, you are done walking around and if people want something they can go try to get it themselves yes I know you’re only seven see ya.
13.) Sit quietly by yourself and think about the games you attended when you were young and cute and thing and free. So many cute t-shirts. So much flirting. So much fun. So few pizza runs.
14.) So few tension veins running down your forehead.
16.) And your kids are pretty cute.
17.) But your shirts are less so.
18.) Arrive home three hours after bedtime.
19.) Suffer through two days of crankiness.
20.) Begin planning next time because it was actually pretty fun.