I finally get it.  I’m in my mid-40’s and now … finally … I understand.

I understand the impulse that overcomes a person (usually a young man) and causes them to shoot spitballs.

Last evening I went to a “Mandatory Parents Meeting” for all of the parents who will have children on travel teams in our hockey club next season.  LightHusband had to take the LightChildren to their regularly scheduled in-line practice, otherwise he would have had to sit through this nonsense.

In my younger days I might have arrived early to ensure that I knew where the meeting was.  I would have gotten a good seat.  I would have paid attention, even taken a few notes.

Now, I’m beginning to get a sense of what’s important in life.  I arrived at the rink late.  Didn’t have a clue where the meeting was.  Complimented one of LightGirl’s teammates on a hairstyle change and chatted with a few other teammates; giggled too.  Have I mentioned that I like this age?  Gave up on procrastinating and slouched into the meeting late … so late I had to stand against the back wall.  With my (illegal) fastfood diet soda and straw in hand … we’re not supposed to bring food or drink from outside sources into the rink.  I break this rule regularly and with aplomb.  I’m spending several thousand dollars in rink fees for my children play hockey, if I want to bring in the occasional soda, I will.

Thus began what was to be the most. boring. hour of my life.  Hands down.  I have never been in a more boring meeting ever before.  I’ve been in boring meetings before.  But this one took the cake.  I felt bad because HeadCoach had to stand up front looking interested and supportive, but he was clearly bored out of his mind too.  I began to imagine shooting spitballs at him, just to lighten up the meeting … start a war of sorts (a silly one mind you).  My only problem is that my aim is notoriously bad and I probably couldn’t shoot far enough, so I’d hit someone I don’t know … that would be very bad.

You know a meeting is boring and horrible when it causes formerly well-behaved middle aged women to consider shooting spitballs.

At the end the meeting leader (who’s name I do not know) asked for questions, I considered raising my hand and asking, “Are we done now?” or “Did anyone ever tell you not to quit your day job?”  or “Why was this mandatory, we didn’t learn anything?”  but I’m just not that rude … yet.