Soccer Practice And The Meat Sweats

Starbuck Double Espresso

96% of the time I never have to take my sons to soccer practice. Why? My husband is an assistant coach and both of their soccer practices happen to be at the same time at the same field. Unfortunately, due to circumstances, I’m taking my 8 year old-C this evening.

Now the one rule for all the future soccer moms and soccer dads out there as I’m learning in real time is-don’t drink a Starbucks Double Shot Espresso when there are not facilities to accommodate the results. To agitate the situation further, I couldn’t get the wifi to work on my laptop to write this Pulitzer Prize winning post.

About 10 minutes after drinking it, my stomach began to rumble.

‘Not today Satan,’ I told my stomach. This seems to happen every time there isn’t a restroom around. It’s as if my stomach is being a major ass hole!

Now to clarify, there is a port o’john at the soccer field but I refuse to use it. This is ironic given how I roll my eyes when I hear people say ridiculous things like:

“I don’t take a dump at work. I’ll wait.”


“I won’t crap if someone is in the stall next to me.”

These are the same people that order water and crackers on the first date to give the illusion they are delicate flowers. They are the type of person that gets up before their one-night-stand to brush their teeth with their finger, to make it look like they always wake up a fresh rose. But I digress.

I thought that maybe if I farted a little, this would relieve the pressure. Because irony is a comedian, I know that the moment I did this, someone would walk over to my car, wanting to converse. Plus I had just rolled down all my windows and would have to roll them back up in order to carry out the deed. This would seem suspicious.

The next option was the port o’John. As some of you may know, I have a severe phobia of snakes. I don’t go to the zoo because of this phobia and I do little to no outdoor work for fear of running into Satan’s pet. I’ve been known to scatter pungent smelling moth balls all around the perimeter of my home because I heard they hate them. Once I realized my ass was about to explode I threw my sandals on and walked over to the John.

It was empty and a fresh layer of mulch had been laid around it. I leaned over and opened the door awkwardly to see rocks had been put in some of the cracks, but not all the cracks. At any given time, a snake could wiggle through a crack and that would be the end of me because I would loose my shit, literally and figuratively. I didn’t go.

“But Hot Mess, why don’t you just run to a restaurant and go?” 

That’s a great idea however did I mention I’m not only in charge of my son tonight but another kid? My usual buddies aren’t here to watch over them and I don’t want to ask some of the other parents to keep an eye on them.

So here I sit having meat sweat episodes. I try not to make any major moves as I don’t want to agitate my stomach. When one comes on, I go to my happy place and endure it like a contraction. Practice is for another 30 minutes and I have no idea how I’m going to get through it either by A. not soiling myself, B. not damaging my lower body permanently or C. leaving to explode at a nearby Wendy’s.


(BTW, I normally hate gifs so this is the first one I’ve ever inserted. It’s just so appropriate right now)

Update: It’s the next morning. I made it to the restroom but with only seconds to spare. When practice was over, 4 million hours later, I yelled for C and his friend to come to the car. As some of you may know, trying to get an 8 year old to hurry up is adorable as it’s just not done. At this point, his friend’s next move is to fall to the ground in a make believe nap. I’m now standing by the car, dripping sweat, jumping up and down in some sort of twitchy pee-pee dance.

“Let’s go!” I roar in a last ditch effort to save my self. Where did that voice come from? Suddenly they knew not to meander but to HAUL ASS if they wanted to live.

So that is my Thursday TMI share for the day. Sorry, may be more than you want to read and don’t feel like you have to comment on my #3. Happy Thursday!


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