After nearly a year of waiting, I finally staged my momentous return to the beaches of Santa Monica and reclaimed my title as reigning Queen of Volleyball. Ok, obviously lack of sleep has made me delusional, because my return was less than momentous, and I have never even been close to being the Queen of Volleyball. Lowly Serf of Volleyball is more like it. Still, it felt gooooooood to get back on the sand, even if it means that I'm still so sore that it hurts to type this post.Luckily, I had two of my best girlfriends there to fight over - I mean, to babysit Benjamin. Here is an exchange that I happened to overhear:
Deb [with longing look on her face]: Do you need a break? I'll take Benjamin for a little bit.
Yvonne [holding Benjamin]: No, that's ok. I'm fine. I mean, of course unless you want to take him.
Deb [eyes downcast]: No, no, no... I got to hold him yesterday. You go ahead.
It went on like this between the two of them for much of morning. And while they were busy fighting over who got to hold the baby, the baby mama was busy getting her butt kicked seven ways from Sunday. One of the guys even commented to me, "Hey, you're getting pretty good at diving into the sand!" I think I deserve mad props, guy! Have any of YOU ever tried to dive for a ball while majorly engorged? I'm directing this comment mainly towards my husband. After one particularly humiliating faceplant, I looked up to see him holding Benjamin while pointing at me and saying, "You see Mommy playing volleyball? Isn't she GREAT? HAHAHA!!"
When Benjamin gets old enough to understand how the game is supposed to be played, I'll just show him this picture:
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1 comment:
No worries Yvonne... Hold him all you want now - in a few years...he's marrying MY daughter!!! :) Tee hee.... (And the fighting... I mean, babysitting... continues..) Love: the Baby Hog
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