So I must do my duty and represent to you the absolute comedic timing of Youngest. This morning as Oldest is doing his "I look good going to school" routine, Youngest says: "Mom, he is soooo dramatic." And as I cock my head sideways at the thought of him knowing and applying correctly the word "dramatic", he proceeds to explain, "Do you know what dramatic means mom? It means crazy and silly and not cool. He's really not so cool mom. He thinks he is but he's not really." Now that I have the proper definition of dramatic I can rest easy at night.
I told you previously about the "Yella Cah". The gaming level on this has increased, as one could expect anytime our particular family is involved. Nothing stays simple. It's all about one-upping the next one. Youngest has taken this goal to a whole new level. When a "yella cah" is spotted he says "I already saw that one!" And completely intends on getting credit for it. How do you argue with pure genius?
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
What A Weekend!
I knew going into it that it would be a doo-sey! Chock full of stuff. Coming, going, sitting, standing, cheering, socializing. And it was every bit of that. Saturday started way too early; before the birds event thought about chirping. 7:30 Soccer Chick was on the field for the first of 3 possibly 4 games. Now, without any bragging included I can tell you with all confidence that she was the MVP for that game. Of course, 10 year olds don't have such a thing so I'm awarding it to her. Official or not, she played her heart out. Remember, it's 7:30 in the morning. I was exhausted just watching her and the team play. They won the first game 2-0 with both goals belonging to none other than Soccer Chick. My favorite part of the morning was walking along the backside of the opposing team's parents and hearing a man in a strong Middle Eastern accent, declare "get the girl with the left foot. That's all she's got is the left foot! Nothing more". Haha. I thought it was funny. I almost said "ah, c'mon. She's got more than that and you know it." Don't get too excited because the story takes a pitiful turn...
Before I get to that, following Soccer Chick's a.m. game was Baseball Chick's final game of the season. Final. Baseball. Game. Whew. There were quite a few antics from her overzealous, seriously animated coach that gave us more than a chuckle. Outside of that, it was a pretty good game. They were losing, so they decided to play just for the fun of it, according to Coach.
We had a short break in between the conclusion of that game and the start of game #2 for Soccer Chick. Now, I'm not sure what transpired between 7:30am and 1:00pm but something definitely did. The Soccer Chick playing in game #2 was definitely not the same as the one playing in the a.m. game. She apparently decided that she didn't feel like running, hustling, shooting, or caring. She pretty much shuffled her feet and missed kicks the whole game. She got two minor injuries, a ball to the gut and a head to the lip both of which you would have thought were massive. But seriously, folks, were not. Despite my frustration, delicately expressed from the sideline, Soccer Chick was just not feeling it. The team they played had won the morning game 7-0 and our coach decided to tell the girls this prior to the game. Not sure if this messed their mo-jo all up but the definitely didn't battle for a win. My favorite part of this game was when Soccer Chick took the head to the lip. Okay, no, not the injury part. But the two moms sitting beside me both gasped and said "oh no, Soccer Chick's hurt. Not Soccer Chick. What are we going to do?!?" Funny. Everyone sees her as a key player, top scorer and yet, here she is doing nothing. Nothing. I asked her about it on the side. Again, delicately, of course. And she said their defenders were just too good. Nothing was getting past them and their defense was unstoppable. So, what? We just give up. Yes, apparently, we do. They suffered a pitiful loss of 3-0. And with that advanced to the final game Sunday morning.
Don't be deceived, we were in no way done for the day. We attended the end of season party for the Baseball Chick's team. Very nice neighborhood cookout in way-too-hot weather, but with really great food. By the time the day's activities were complete, I really had reached exhaustion. I laid on my bed and "went on to glory" as the Hub likes to say when he gets that really good nap in. I could not tell you what time I fell asleep but I can tell you it was 9pm when I woke up; not knowing if it was a.m or p.m!
Sunday morning: Game #3 for Soccer Chick. Based on Game #2's result it was highly predictable they would not be advancing to the final championship game Sunday afternoon. A-Okay with me! Game #3, 8:30 a.m. on a Sunday, on the soccer field. Again, some alien took over my child's body and she played the worse game of soccer I have ever seen. She literally hung her head, shuffled her feet and pouted on the field. Pouted, people. What is that? I have never seen her play this way. Perhaps she is just soccer-fried? Not sure, but it was painful to watch. My saving grace is that I needed to leave early for church set up. Thank goodness because I couldn't take it anymore. I gave her my pre-exit speech on the side about how she needed to get her butt together. This was the last game and she never had to play soccer again in her life for all I care, but while she is out on that field she needs to do something. Good grief.
A fellow parent dropped her off at church later and turns out, second half of the game was miracle producing. They won 4-0. Soccer Chick apparently told Coach to take her out of Left Forward and he put her at Center Mid instead. This position apparently suited her better and she had several assists that resulted in that 4-0 victory. She has a strong left foot and it comes in handy when used properly.
Sunday afternoon, graduation party for a high school graduate friend. Parties are never my thing, especially when full of people I don't know at all. But I made out just fine with the food, and the kids enjoyed the pool. By the time this entire weekend was done we were super-pooped. It was full, fun and tiring, but well worth it all.
Before I get to that, following Soccer Chick's a.m. game was Baseball Chick's final game of the season. Final. Baseball. Game. Whew. There were quite a few antics from her overzealous, seriously animated coach that gave us more than a chuckle. Outside of that, it was a pretty good game. They were losing, so they decided to play just for the fun of it, according to Coach.
We had a short break in between the conclusion of that game and the start of game #2 for Soccer Chick. Now, I'm not sure what transpired between 7:30am and 1:00pm but something definitely did. The Soccer Chick playing in game #2 was definitely not the same as the one playing in the a.m. game. She apparently decided that she didn't feel like running, hustling, shooting, or caring. She pretty much shuffled her feet and missed kicks the whole game. She got two minor injuries, a ball to the gut and a head to the lip both of which you would have thought were massive. But seriously, folks, were not. Despite my frustration, delicately expressed from the sideline, Soccer Chick was just not feeling it. The team they played had won the morning game 7-0 and our coach decided to tell the girls this prior to the game. Not sure if this messed their mo-jo all up but the definitely didn't battle for a win. My favorite part of this game was when Soccer Chick took the head to the lip. Okay, no, not the injury part. But the two moms sitting beside me both gasped and said "oh no, Soccer Chick's hurt. Not Soccer Chick. What are we going to do?!?" Funny. Everyone sees her as a key player, top scorer and yet, here she is doing nothing. Nothing. I asked her about it on the side. Again, delicately, of course. And she said their defenders were just too good. Nothing was getting past them and their defense was unstoppable. So, what? We just give up. Yes, apparently, we do. They suffered a pitiful loss of 3-0. And with that advanced to the final game Sunday morning.
Don't be deceived, we were in no way done for the day. We attended the end of season party for the Baseball Chick's team. Very nice neighborhood cookout in way-too-hot weather, but with really great food. By the time the day's activities were complete, I really had reached exhaustion. I laid on my bed and "went on to glory" as the Hub likes to say when he gets that really good nap in. I could not tell you what time I fell asleep but I can tell you it was 9pm when I woke up; not knowing if it was a.m or p.m!
Sunday morning: Game #3 for Soccer Chick. Based on Game #2's result it was highly predictable they would not be advancing to the final championship game Sunday afternoon. A-Okay with me! Game #3, 8:30 a.m. on a Sunday, on the soccer field. Again, some alien took over my child's body and she played the worse game of soccer I have ever seen. She literally hung her head, shuffled her feet and pouted on the field. Pouted, people. What is that? I have never seen her play this way. Perhaps she is just soccer-fried? Not sure, but it was painful to watch. My saving grace is that I needed to leave early for church set up. Thank goodness because I couldn't take it anymore. I gave her my pre-exit speech on the side about how she needed to get her butt together. This was the last game and she never had to play soccer again in her life for all I care, but while she is out on that field she needs to do something. Good grief.
A fellow parent dropped her off at church later and turns out, second half of the game was miracle producing. They won 4-0. Soccer Chick apparently told Coach to take her out of Left Forward and he put her at Center Mid instead. This position apparently suited her better and she had several assists that resulted in that 4-0 victory. She has a strong left foot and it comes in handy when used properly.
Sunday afternoon, graduation party for a high school graduate friend. Parties are never my thing, especially when full of people I don't know at all. But I made out just fine with the food, and the kids enjoyed the pool. By the time this entire weekend was done we were super-pooped. It was full, fun and tiring, but well worth it all.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Yellow Car!
Have you ever played the game "Yellow Car?" Well, as is typical in our home, somebody starts something new and it catches like wildfire. Such is Yellow Car. The Hub started it a few weeks back. Basically, when out and about, if you see a yellow car, you are the first to yell "yellow car!" It's competitive and apparently, entertaining to some. It sounds more like "yella cah". This has become quite the phenomena in our home.
This morning on the way to work was just such a typical example. Driving along, Youngest is deep in the zone of "talk", going on and on about something. I spot a yellow van. Now, let me digress for a quick second. The kids have made up their own set of rules about this game. One of the main rules being everyone has to see the car, so there's no made up "yella cahs" and it has to be solid yellow. No emblem, logo, etc. So here we are this morning, riding along, and I, the person who never plays this game, spot a yellow van. So, feeling a little pleased with myself, I offer a "yella van!" To which my dearest Youngest announces, "that doesn't count. Yellow vans don't count." Why not, I wonder? Amazing how fast he came up with that rule when it helped his Yella Cah count and not mine. As he's explaining his reasoning for why a yellow van doesn't count he interrupts himself to shout: "yella cah" and then his voice resumes a regular tone and he picks up where he left off in his description of why my effort was shot down. He, of course, scored an additional worthy point for what he spotted.
Oh yes, he's a talker. If you know him, then you know I am seriously right. Last night at dinner, he's talking...a lot...about nothing...on repeat. It bordered on torturous. Finally, I asked him to stop talking and keep eating. He pondered this thought for a moment. And I tell you friends, there was some wild activity going on behind those eyes. Really wild. I could tell his brain was firing off thoughts and he was thinking not only of what to say next but why he wanted to say what he would say, and what would it mean, and when would he say it, and...and...and... About 30 seconds later (yes, friends, that's all I got was 30 seconds) he says "mom, I was talking in my brain. You said not to talk, so I talked in my brain instead. I told my brain what to say. I told my brain to speak louder so I could hear him. He has a face and a nose and a whole body mom. But he can't do what he wants mom. He has to say what I tell him to say. So he was saying what I told him to say, mom." People, the boy is pure comedic genius.
This morning on the way to work was just such a typical example. Driving along, Youngest is deep in the zone of "talk", going on and on about something. I spot a yellow van. Now, let me digress for a quick second. The kids have made up their own set of rules about this game. One of the main rules being everyone has to see the car, so there's no made up "yella cahs" and it has to be solid yellow. No emblem, logo, etc. So here we are this morning, riding along, and I, the person who never plays this game, spot a yellow van. So, feeling a little pleased with myself, I offer a "yella van!" To which my dearest Youngest announces, "that doesn't count. Yellow vans don't count." Why not, I wonder? Amazing how fast he came up with that rule when it helped his Yella Cah count and not mine. As he's explaining his reasoning for why a yellow van doesn't count he interrupts himself to shout: "yella cah" and then his voice resumes a regular tone and he picks up where he left off in his description of why my effort was shot down. He, of course, scored an additional worthy point for what he spotted.
Oh yes, he's a talker. If you know him, then you know I am seriously right. Last night at dinner, he's talking...a lot...about nothing...on repeat. It bordered on torturous. Finally, I asked him to stop talking and keep eating. He pondered this thought for a moment. And I tell you friends, there was some wild activity going on behind those eyes. Really wild. I could tell his brain was firing off thoughts and he was thinking not only of what to say next but why he wanted to say what he would say, and what would it mean, and when would he say it, and...and...and... About 30 seconds later (yes, friends, that's all I got was 30 seconds) he says "mom, I was talking in my brain. You said not to talk, so I talked in my brain instead. I told my brain what to say. I told my brain to speak louder so I could hear him. He has a face and a nose and a whole body mom. But he can't do what he wants mom. He has to say what I tell him to say. So he was saying what I told him to say, mom." People, the boy is pure comedic genius.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Weekend Update
You see that my title is minus the "sports" part? No sports games this weekend. We missed out on a baseball game on Saturday. Instead we traveled to North Carolina. Man, I'm so upset we missed that game. Surely you can read that my blog is dripping with sincerity.
And what a trip it was. 7 hours in the car with the busiest kids on the face of any planet. No DS, ipod or other form of entertainment could touch these folks. Why, exactly, do they not make rental cars with dvd players? What, those of us renting cars don't have kids that need entertaining. Surely, the opposite is exactly true. I find it strange that I have to pay some company to use their car and I can't even do it at the highest of comfort...quiet kids.
Again, 7 hours in the car traveling to Lincolnton, NC. I see why they call it "countree", ain't nothing but trees out in these parts. I came to the realization I am a suburb gal through and through. I don't mind a tree, a walking path, some floral arrangements, birds chirping...so long as it's next to a 7-11 for goodness sakes. 11:00pm this town shuts down. We arrived at a little after 10:00 so by the time the Hub was ready for a late night snack he had to suck it up and forget about it. There was nothing happening around these parts.
We traveled to this mighty town to attend my nephew's graduation from high school. What an experience, with a simply delightful, yet predictably quiet young man. In that sense, he's a lot like his dad and his dad's side of the family. With the absolute exception of the Hub. In fact, we chewed on that one for awhile. Of three boys, the Hub definitely didn't get the "quiet" gene.
Saturday morning graduation. Let me have you experience this scene with me...North Carolina heat. Hopefully you read that correctly. North. Carolina. Heat. Very different from VA heat. Very different. And graduation, to my extreme delight, was held on the football field of this fine high school. As the parents, family and loved ones sat in the stands. North. Carolina. Heat. Oh my. I can't begin to tell you how hot it was. By about 30 minutes in we were all sweating like pigs ready to be roasted. Fitting as we were in hog country. Man, it was H.O.T. The ceremony was beautiful. We are all very proud of my nephew. He finished high school winning awards, scholarships and seems like a really great kid. And handsome to boot.
We could hardly wait to get back to our hotel to hit the pool. If you have never seen Youngest in a pool you have something yet to live for. When that boy is excited, everyone needs to watch out. We're talking dancing and shaking his butt on the side of the pool. I've never quite seen someone shake like that one. He decided he wanted to do the whole stand on the side of the pool and jump in as I catch him thing. First try, after a long and thorough analysis by Youngest...he backs up, runs up to the edge and stops dead: "You sure you're going to catch me. You weren't kidding?" More shaking and twisting of the hips with excitement and he decides to try again. Funny how once kids get the umph up to do this, they don't want to stop...for a long, long...long time.
I must share with you that, lest you doubt it, I can confirm to you that racism is alive and well in the South. I think I live just "South" enough and wouldn't want to be any more southern. A pit stop at some backwoods gas station meant snack time for us. I enter first, cashier doesn't notice me as she's with someone at the counter. The Hub enters a few minutes later, to which the cashier, a beautiful specimen of North Carolina pride, tatoos, missing teeth and all. The Hub greets her and she asks how he's doing today. "Just fine," he says. To which she replies "I certainly hope you are." Please put on your best country accent when reading that previous statement. So far, lovely experience. I approach the counter and stand beside Hub and the lady's face would have like to not have to catch up with her brain. But unfortunately for her it did. Written all over her face was the prompt realization that the Hub and I were traveling together. The friendliness turned to ice cold check out. I believe I could read her mind and it was on repeat "hurry up and get these folks out of here." The Hub tried to make friendly with her. Apparently she is deaf. I guess her loss of hearing occurred sometime between when we entered and when we were ready to check out. I love the South.
All in all we were glad we could make the trip. Good to see family we haven't seen in awhile, great to attend the graduation. Great to be back home, close to my beloved 7-11's.
And what a trip it was. 7 hours in the car with the busiest kids on the face of any planet. No DS, ipod or other form of entertainment could touch these folks. Why, exactly, do they not make rental cars with dvd players? What, those of us renting cars don't have kids that need entertaining. Surely, the opposite is exactly true. I find it strange that I have to pay some company to use their car and I can't even do it at the highest of comfort...quiet kids.
Again, 7 hours in the car traveling to Lincolnton, NC. I see why they call it "countree", ain't nothing but trees out in these parts. I came to the realization I am a suburb gal through and through. I don't mind a tree, a walking path, some floral arrangements, birds chirping...so long as it's next to a 7-11 for goodness sakes. 11:00pm this town shuts down. We arrived at a little after 10:00 so by the time the Hub was ready for a late night snack he had to suck it up and forget about it. There was nothing happening around these parts.
We traveled to this mighty town to attend my nephew's graduation from high school. What an experience, with a simply delightful, yet predictably quiet young man. In that sense, he's a lot like his dad and his dad's side of the family. With the absolute exception of the Hub. In fact, we chewed on that one for awhile. Of three boys, the Hub definitely didn't get the "quiet" gene.
Saturday morning graduation. Let me have you experience this scene with me...North Carolina heat. Hopefully you read that correctly. North. Carolina. Heat. Very different from VA heat. Very different. And graduation, to my extreme delight, was held on the football field of this fine high school. As the parents, family and loved ones sat in the stands. North. Carolina. Heat. Oh my. I can't begin to tell you how hot it was. By about 30 minutes in we were all sweating like pigs ready to be roasted. Fitting as we were in hog country. Man, it was H.O.T. The ceremony was beautiful. We are all very proud of my nephew. He finished high school winning awards, scholarships and seems like a really great kid. And handsome to boot.
We could hardly wait to get back to our hotel to hit the pool. If you have never seen Youngest in a pool you have something yet to live for. When that boy is excited, everyone needs to watch out. We're talking dancing and shaking his butt on the side of the pool. I've never quite seen someone shake like that one. He decided he wanted to do the whole stand on the side of the pool and jump in as I catch him thing. First try, after a long and thorough analysis by Youngest...he backs up, runs up to the edge and stops dead: "You sure you're going to catch me. You weren't kidding?" More shaking and twisting of the hips with excitement and he decides to try again. Funny how once kids get the umph up to do this, they don't want to stop...for a long, long...long time.
I must share with you that, lest you doubt it, I can confirm to you that racism is alive and well in the South. I think I live just "South" enough and wouldn't want to be any more southern. A pit stop at some backwoods gas station meant snack time for us. I enter first, cashier doesn't notice me as she's with someone at the counter. The Hub enters a few minutes later, to which the cashier, a beautiful specimen of North Carolina pride, tatoos, missing teeth and all. The Hub greets her and she asks how he's doing today. "Just fine," he says. To which she replies "I certainly hope you are." Please put on your best country accent when reading that previous statement. So far, lovely experience. I approach the counter and stand beside Hub and the lady's face would have like to not have to catch up with her brain. But unfortunately for her it did. Written all over her face was the prompt realization that the Hub and I were traveling together. The friendliness turned to ice cold check out. I believe I could read her mind and it was on repeat "hurry up and get these folks out of here." The Hub tried to make friendly with her. Apparently she is deaf. I guess her loss of hearing occurred sometime between when we entered and when we were ready to check out. I love the South.
All in all we were glad we could make the trip. Good to see family we haven't seen in awhile, great to attend the graduation. Great to be back home, close to my beloved 7-11's.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Weekend Sports Update
Saturday had to be the longest day of my life. Next Fall, it just might get longer. If things work the way I think they will, we will have 4 kids on separate teams. I may actually top my longest Saturday ever day sooner than I think.
Baseball Chick started us out. Way too early game, but a good game for her nonetheless. At this age they rotate positions every inning, so at one turn as 2nd baseman, little miss thing caught a pop fly. Major big deal for 7 year olds. Another inning Baseball Chick was covering pitcher. Catches a pop fly and makes the double play at third. Double. Play. Unheard of for 7 year olds. They have had just a handful of these this season. Rare gems, for sure. She was rocking it! For just a few tiny minutes there, us sidelines folks were able to get very excited about baseball.
Soccer Chick had her final game of the season on Saturday. We got there a bit early and time enough for me to see the team finishing up before us. There was a mom on the sidelines. Visor cap on her head, poised and ready at the sideline to cheer these girls on. She was not the coach. But she probably should have been. One moment I hear, "C'mon girls. I want a goal right now. Your pizza's getting cold." Yup, I'm pretty sure that had a good effect on them. Looking at her, jumping up and down, clapping her hands and screaming like a fool, I thought I am so glad I don't look like that. The Hub might disagree with that statement. Well, at least I perform my antics from my seat. I like to be a little reserved in my insanity.
Without exaggeration I would like to inform you that Soccer Chick's team won, 1-0. And Soccer Chick was the one who scored the solitary goal. This was an extremely frustrating game. I would say I stopped counting at about time number 6 when one of Soccer Chick's teammates was at the goal and had a perfect shot...and missed. At one point, the Hub threw his wallet and keys down on the grass while he politely and ever so eloquently expressed his frustration. One incredible time, Soccer Chick was on top of the ball and the last of the opposing team's players was at her ankles. It's just her, the opposition and the goal. She kicks it up a little to her teammate who is literally on top of the goal, who does some kind of kick I have never seen before. It was almost slow motion. Ball just rolls oh so slowly into the goalie's hands. That was the cause of the wallet and keys throwing into the grass. Soccer Chick probably should have just kept the ball herself instead of passing it. We would never tell her that of course, it's all about the team...Thank goodness, this team is over. Tonight is the first practice of All-Stars. On to bigger and better things. Two weeks of practice and then Father's Day weekend tourney.
Basketball! Man, I told you guys to be thinking good thoughts to get them through that semi-finals game. Apparently they were playing an undefeated team known to be the best in the league. Yup. After surviving this game, I can tell you they are probably the best in the league. That was an ugly, ugly game. Oldest gets a call on the way to the game. "Make sure you're coming because we're down 2 guys. All 5 guys will play the whole game." As if the pressure wasn't already enough. All 5 of those boys did indeed play the entire game. Exhausted doesn't begin to cover it. They lost by about 20 points and the loss was pretty evident from period 1. They gave up at about 5 minutes remaining in 4th period. One funny comment to highlight this game: Referee to Oldest: "Son, try to remember this isn't football." Ironically, Oldest spent quite a bit of time at the foul line. Maybe 4 times? Probably causing his all time high score in a single game. Something like 6 points maybe?
I always love to give you a little taste of the comedic routine that comes from Youngest. After church yesterday meant nap for the Hub, tv/chill-time for the kids and catch up on Lost episodes for me. The Hub is snoring away and I am engrossed in Lost. I am nearing the end of Season 2 and as I watch an episode I think of other things I can do after the episode ends, then something incredible happens and I have to watch the next episode right away. I have to see what happens!!! I was in one of those exact moments when Youngest walks up and says: "Mom, you know what my body needs? Fresh air. Do you know where fresh air comes from? Outside mom. It's outside. Can we pleeeeassse go outside???" I suppose that good parenting doesn't involved ignoring those pleas...
And if you didn't get enough of Youngest from that snippet...this morning Youngest is sitting on my sink as I am getting ready for work. Oldest walks in to say his morning conversation about how good he looks going to school. Not kidding, people. Anyway, Youngest looks to Oldest and to me and says "Mom, don't you love me more than Pnut?" To which I promptly disagree, and he says "Sure you do mom. I know you do. Because I do everything you ask me to do, all the time. always." Okay, people. NOTHING could be further from the truth. And the fact that he knows that and I know that. In fact, we all know that, and yet he was trying to convince me that this is true is just a small glimpse of his skills. The kid is good. When he really learns how to use the skill of what he considers to be out-thinking other people, we are all in big, big trouble.
Baseball Chick started us out. Way too early game, but a good game for her nonetheless. At this age they rotate positions every inning, so at one turn as 2nd baseman, little miss thing caught a pop fly. Major big deal for 7 year olds. Another inning Baseball Chick was covering pitcher. Catches a pop fly and makes the double play at third. Double. Play. Unheard of for 7 year olds. They have had just a handful of these this season. Rare gems, for sure. She was rocking it! For just a few tiny minutes there, us sidelines folks were able to get very excited about baseball.
Soccer Chick had her final game of the season on Saturday. We got there a bit early and time enough for me to see the team finishing up before us. There was a mom on the sidelines. Visor cap on her head, poised and ready at the sideline to cheer these girls on. She was not the coach. But she probably should have been. One moment I hear, "C'mon girls. I want a goal right now. Your pizza's getting cold." Yup, I'm pretty sure that had a good effect on them. Looking at her, jumping up and down, clapping her hands and screaming like a fool, I thought I am so glad I don't look like that. The Hub might disagree with that statement. Well, at least I perform my antics from my seat. I like to be a little reserved in my insanity.
Without exaggeration I would like to inform you that Soccer Chick's team won, 1-0. And Soccer Chick was the one who scored the solitary goal. This was an extremely frustrating game. I would say I stopped counting at about time number 6 when one of Soccer Chick's teammates was at the goal and had a perfect shot...and missed. At one point, the Hub threw his wallet and keys down on the grass while he politely and ever so eloquently expressed his frustration. One incredible time, Soccer Chick was on top of the ball and the last of the opposing team's players was at her ankles. It's just her, the opposition and the goal. She kicks it up a little to her teammate who is literally on top of the goal, who does some kind of kick I have never seen before. It was almost slow motion. Ball just rolls oh so slowly into the goalie's hands. That was the cause of the wallet and keys throwing into the grass. Soccer Chick probably should have just kept the ball herself instead of passing it. We would never tell her that of course, it's all about the team...Thank goodness, this team is over. Tonight is the first practice of All-Stars. On to bigger and better things. Two weeks of practice and then Father's Day weekend tourney.
Basketball! Man, I told you guys to be thinking good thoughts to get them through that semi-finals game. Apparently they were playing an undefeated team known to be the best in the league. Yup. After surviving this game, I can tell you they are probably the best in the league. That was an ugly, ugly game. Oldest gets a call on the way to the game. "Make sure you're coming because we're down 2 guys. All 5 guys will play the whole game." As if the pressure wasn't already enough. All 5 of those boys did indeed play the entire game. Exhausted doesn't begin to cover it. They lost by about 20 points and the loss was pretty evident from period 1. They gave up at about 5 minutes remaining in 4th period. One funny comment to highlight this game: Referee to Oldest: "Son, try to remember this isn't football." Ironically, Oldest spent quite a bit of time at the foul line. Maybe 4 times? Probably causing his all time high score in a single game. Something like 6 points maybe?
I always love to give you a little taste of the comedic routine that comes from Youngest. After church yesterday meant nap for the Hub, tv/chill-time for the kids and catch up on Lost episodes for me. The Hub is snoring away and I am engrossed in Lost. I am nearing the end of Season 2 and as I watch an episode I think of other things I can do after the episode ends, then something incredible happens and I have to watch the next episode right away. I have to see what happens!!! I was in one of those exact moments when Youngest walks up and says: "Mom, you know what my body needs? Fresh air. Do you know where fresh air comes from? Outside mom. It's outside. Can we pleeeeassse go outside???" I suppose that good parenting doesn't involved ignoring those pleas...
And if you didn't get enough of Youngest from that snippet...this morning Youngest is sitting on my sink as I am getting ready for work. Oldest walks in to say his morning conversation about how good he looks going to school. Not kidding, people. Anyway, Youngest looks to Oldest and to me and says "Mom, don't you love me more than Pnut?" To which I promptly disagree, and he says "Sure you do mom. I know you do. Because I do everything you ask me to do, all the time. always." Okay, people. NOTHING could be further from the truth. And the fact that he knows that and I know that. In fact, we all know that, and yet he was trying to convince me that this is true is just a small glimpse of his skills. The kid is good. When he really learns how to use the skill of what he considers to be out-thinking other people, we are all in big, big trouble.
Friday, June 4, 2010
PRE-Weekend Sports Update
I think you will agree a Pre-Weekend Sports Update may just be as important as the actual run down of how things went. I want to prepare you for what's coming this weekend. In the life of us, it's pretty big. Oldest has a basketball team headed to the semi-finals Saturday. Did you hear that? S.E.M.I F.I.N.A.L.S. Seriously. This is the same kid who handles the basketball like a hot potato and admits he sucks at the game. Yet, his team did very well, finishing 7-4 in their regular season. His brick wall body certainly helped.
Saturday...semi-finals. AND, if they win...FINALS on Sunday afternoon. Can't hardly sit still in anticipation. I really hope they win Saturday. I mean, it is just a house basketball league for 11th graders. But seriously, people. This is major. Wanted to prepare you so you could be thinking good thoughts for old boy this weekend. And he turns 17 today. Now what else is there to be smiling about? 17 and semi-finals. Life is good.
Speaking of birthdays, we did the traditional "greet you at your door and serenade you" thing this morning. Remarkably, Oldest tolerated it...smiled, even. Hard to believe, but he stood in the doorway for the entire song. Smiling. Ah, to be 17 again. Despite my encouragement, none of the others wanted to venture across the threshold of the door to give a birthday hug. "C'mon," I said... "It's okay. You can come in." He's taught them well. They stood in the hallway like children starring in the movie The Shining...staring into his room. Heads slowly shaking left and right. He has definitely taught them well.
Soccer Chick has her final game of the season tomorrow. Trophies, accolades and donuts. Just what any good athlete needs. And then we move on to All-Stars. First practice Monday. Now, this should be fun. This is where the psycho soccer-moms (self definitely included) get to really live out loud.
Baseball Chick. Relax. She has SEVERAL more games to go in this season. It is baseball, after all. And lastly Youngest. I'm perplexed about this guy. He is dying to be on a team; to play a sport. Yet the only option for him at this age is soccer in the fall. He has announced to me that "soccer sucks!". I'm tickled by how adamant he is about his feelings towards soccer. He says football and basketball are his games. Not that he has ever played either, formally speaking. But that's the way he's guiding his future. Far be it for me to stand in his way.
Just to leave you with some Youngest wisdom going into your weekend, last night, he didn't finished one slice of pizza. Despite my explanation that this was dinner, he talked all the way through our table time and picked at it. It must be interesting to be dying to talk so much you would forsake eating to accomplish your pleasure. Definitely not a problem I have. Sure enough, 1 hour later, homeboy was hungry. I explained that he didn't eat his dinner. To which, he informed me "pizza is not dinner." As he saw it, "you know, mom. When you order pizza that's dinner #1. And then you cook dinner #2." At this point, I turn around to face him. I have to see this logic in action. At the look on my face, he says "Okay, okay. Give me the pizza already."
Saturday...semi-finals. AND, if they win...FINALS on Sunday afternoon. Can't hardly sit still in anticipation. I really hope they win Saturday. I mean, it is just a house basketball league for 11th graders. But seriously, people. This is major. Wanted to prepare you so you could be thinking good thoughts for old boy this weekend. And he turns 17 today. Now what else is there to be smiling about? 17 and semi-finals. Life is good.
Speaking of birthdays, we did the traditional "greet you at your door and serenade you" thing this morning. Remarkably, Oldest tolerated it...smiled, even. Hard to believe, but he stood in the doorway for the entire song. Smiling. Ah, to be 17 again. Despite my encouragement, none of the others wanted to venture across the threshold of the door to give a birthday hug. "C'mon," I said... "It's okay. You can come in." He's taught them well. They stood in the hallway like children starring in the movie The Shining...staring into his room. Heads slowly shaking left and right. He has definitely taught them well.
Soccer Chick has her final game of the season tomorrow. Trophies, accolades and donuts. Just what any good athlete needs. And then we move on to All-Stars. First practice Monday. Now, this should be fun. This is where the psycho soccer-moms (self definitely included) get to really live out loud.
Baseball Chick. Relax. She has SEVERAL more games to go in this season. It is baseball, after all. And lastly Youngest. I'm perplexed about this guy. He is dying to be on a team; to play a sport. Yet the only option for him at this age is soccer in the fall. He has announced to me that "soccer sucks!". I'm tickled by how adamant he is about his feelings towards soccer. He says football and basketball are his games. Not that he has ever played either, formally speaking. But that's the way he's guiding his future. Far be it for me to stand in his way.
Just to leave you with some Youngest wisdom going into your weekend, last night, he didn't finished one slice of pizza. Despite my explanation that this was dinner, he talked all the way through our table time and picked at it. It must be interesting to be dying to talk so much you would forsake eating to accomplish your pleasure. Definitely not a problem I have. Sure enough, 1 hour later, homeboy was hungry. I explained that he didn't eat his dinner. To which, he informed me "pizza is not dinner." As he saw it, "you know, mom. When you order pizza that's dinner #1. And then you cook dinner #2." At this point, I turn around to face him. I have to see this logic in action. At the look on my face, he says "Okay, okay. Give me the pizza already."
Thursday, June 3, 2010
On Life and Death
Last night at our small group our discussion centered around dying. Now, not to be grim here as it certainly wasn't grim there, talking about death really meant talking about why we want to live. Could it be that perhaps one reason we might not want to die is because of what we leave here? The people, the events, the things, the places, even the smells we can't take with us. Could it be another reason we don't to die is the simple fear of the unknown?
For me, the fear of dying lies in what I know I will miss here. The Hub and the children. Man, I want to be able to see them grow up and live full lives. Get married, start families, be successful. I pray that God has ordered my days to include those events. I don't have any fear about where my soul will go or how I will experience heaven, when my time has come. The thought of that brings radiance and joy to my heart.
For many of us, fear of death is in the trauma. No one wants to die painfully, or tragically. So, we all might kind of live a part of lives hoping that isn't the way we're to go. Truth is, we don't know. Only God knows the day or the hour. So what are we supposed to do here besides wring our hands with worry about how it could all end before we are ready for it to? Well, I suppose that's where faith comes in. Faith would be the very thing that keeps us from altering our life, or limiting our now-life in anticipation of what might happen, that in actuality, we don't know will happen. Yeah, we're going to die eventually, but the way in which we die is unknown.
Faith keeps us focused on God, not on the "what-ifs". Oh, those worry-full what-ifs. Leave 'em alone, I tell ya. They are huge stumbling blocks. If you can focus on God; focus on having faith (you know, the substance of things NOT seen) your focus won't be on all the possibles. Faith doesn't always make good common sense, but it does make good practice. I'm going to keep practicing.
For me, the fear of dying lies in what I know I will miss here. The Hub and the children. Man, I want to be able to see them grow up and live full lives. Get married, start families, be successful. I pray that God has ordered my days to include those events. I don't have any fear about where my soul will go or how I will experience heaven, when my time has come. The thought of that brings radiance and joy to my heart.
For many of us, fear of death is in the trauma. No one wants to die painfully, or tragically. So, we all might kind of live a part of lives hoping that isn't the way we're to go. Truth is, we don't know. Only God knows the day or the hour. So what are we supposed to do here besides wring our hands with worry about how it could all end before we are ready for it to? Well, I suppose that's where faith comes in. Faith would be the very thing that keeps us from altering our life, or limiting our now-life in anticipation of what might happen, that in actuality, we don't know will happen. Yeah, we're going to die eventually, but the way in which we die is unknown.
Faith keeps us focused on God, not on the "what-ifs". Oh, those worry-full what-ifs. Leave 'em alone, I tell ya. They are huge stumbling blocks. If you can focus on God; focus on having faith (you know, the substance of things NOT seen) your focus won't be on all the possibles. Faith doesn't always make good common sense, but it does make good practice. I'm going to keep practicing.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Weekend Drama
And so naturally, being Memorial Day Weekend, it was quiet in our lovely cottage of a home, yes? ha! well, no. That's just not the way we do it, apparently. Saturday. Oh, precious Saturday. Saturday represents the beginning of "I have three days to relax". Saturday is oh, so beautiful to me. Pardon the interruption on my foreseeable weekend future. Way too early Saturday morning Youngest loses a battle with the neighborhood scooter. It's not even our scooter for goodness sakes! Face first into the handlebars. Which happens to not be covered with cushion padding anymore.
Kids will be kids, and there's nothing newsflash-ish about a kid having an accident. But I simply must relay for you the drama that was to follow. First signs of trouble is the sound of Youngest crying. I walk out of the garage to see Soccer Chick carrying him as one would carry a dead body in a horror movie for certain. Draped across her arms and I can hear "breathe. breathe". And me, being me, thinks "He cut up his knee and is 150% drama so she's carrying him". I nonchalantly walk, and I do mean stroll, across the grass to take him out of her arms and begin filling my role of Save The Day Woman. As I approach Soccer Chick says she doesn't know what happened, she turned around and there was blood everywhere. This registers as I see his face, blood was indeed everywhere.
I rush him into the house and into the kitchen where the Hub is cooking breakfast. Now if you know the man, you know this is a production. Smelling good, looking tasty. Yum. I rush Youngest to the sink and begin to use my hands and water to get rid of some of the blood. My thought being let me see how bad it is. Possibly a bloody nose. We got this.
Okay, people. Bear with me on this. Everything changes from this moment on. Blood wiped and I catch the first good look at Youngest's injury. Let's just say, he starred as the blue guy in Avatar. And lest you think I am joking, or exaggerating, please contact any of my children who have since begun calling him Avatar boy. Only saving grace in this is he has no idea what that means. Back to my scene...In between his eyes is a huge gash which has promptly turned blue and is swollen and gushing blood. People, instantaneously, my phsysical well-being changes. I have never experienced such a sensation in my life, but yet, here I stand in the kitchen, no longer Save the Day Woman. But sadly, I have become About to Pass Out Mom. There is blood everywhere and as I look at Youngest, all I can see is a broken nose, disfigured face. That handsome, lady killer in the making - gone! He has turned into Avatar boy. A creature from another land. And I don't feel so good. I'm fanning myself, feeling light headed and like I can't move. I feel like I simply can't breathe.
Somewhere in there Hub runs for a clean washcloth, as if my hand wasn't good enough. jeesh. Despite my many comforting statements to Youngest, he's hysterical. I can feel that I am light-headed and not feeling so good. As I stand at the sink, I feel my legs buckle and on the floor I go. I think I even manage to say to Avatar boy, "I can't stand up anymore".
People...picture the scene. My son, 4 years old, is at the sink bleeding profusely, he has turned into a blue creature and is staring at me out of the strangest slanted eyes. I almost didn't recognize him. And I am on the floor. Repetitive phrases of "it's okay, breathe." don't seem to be helping me too much. Hub walks in and says "what are YOU doing?" Guys, I was laughing then and I'm laughing now. I'm thinking, I know...this is ridiculous. I can't explain what is happening at this very moment. I have never had a "fall out" experience like this before. But here I lay, face up on the floor, can't breathe, definitely NOT Save the Day Woman and I glance up to Youngest, from a now really comfortable spot on the floor and he has stopped crying. He's staring at me, I'm sure thinking "my mother has lost her mind". I thank God at this very moment that our in-home security system does not include interior video-taping.
Hub rushes me some water, to which I continue to profess "I'm okay, I'm okay" and he tends to Youngest. Who has promptly resumed crying. People, I really can't believe at this point that I am lying on the floor and Hub has not one, but two crisis-stricken people to take care of. I'm not sure when I became the basketcase, but nonetheless, here I lie.
Youngest is quite obviously going to the hospital for quite a bit of stiches. the Hub's food...forget about it. Cold and stored in the fridge. Weekend relaxing time? Apparently, not in this cottage. As they rush off to the hospital and siblings stand around the departing car with terror stricken faces, all I can think is "I fainted on the floor. My kid was bleeding and crying and I fainted on the floor". I bid them farewell, gave them a reassuring wave, and began my prayers of "no broken nose" pleas. And then I did what any good girl would do. I called my mommy.
Kids will be kids, and there's nothing newsflash-ish about a kid having an accident. But I simply must relay for you the drama that was to follow. First signs of trouble is the sound of Youngest crying. I walk out of the garage to see Soccer Chick carrying him as one would carry a dead body in a horror movie for certain. Draped across her arms and I can hear "breathe. breathe". And me, being me, thinks "He cut up his knee and is 150% drama so she's carrying him". I nonchalantly walk, and I do mean stroll, across the grass to take him out of her arms and begin filling my role of Save The Day Woman. As I approach Soccer Chick says she doesn't know what happened, she turned around and there was blood everywhere. This registers as I see his face, blood was indeed everywhere.
I rush him into the house and into the kitchen where the Hub is cooking breakfast. Now if you know the man, you know this is a production. Smelling good, looking tasty. Yum. I rush Youngest to the sink and begin to use my hands and water to get rid of some of the blood. My thought being let me see how bad it is. Possibly a bloody nose. We got this.
Okay, people. Bear with me on this. Everything changes from this moment on. Blood wiped and I catch the first good look at Youngest's injury. Let's just say, he starred as the blue guy in Avatar. And lest you think I am joking, or exaggerating, please contact any of my children who have since begun calling him Avatar boy. Only saving grace in this is he has no idea what that means. Back to my scene...In between his eyes is a huge gash which has promptly turned blue and is swollen and gushing blood. People, instantaneously, my phsysical well-being changes. I have never experienced such a sensation in my life, but yet, here I stand in the kitchen, no longer Save the Day Woman. But sadly, I have become About to Pass Out Mom. There is blood everywhere and as I look at Youngest, all I can see is a broken nose, disfigured face. That handsome, lady killer in the making - gone! He has turned into Avatar boy. A creature from another land. And I don't feel so good. I'm fanning myself, feeling light headed and like I can't move. I feel like I simply can't breathe.
Somewhere in there Hub runs for a clean washcloth, as if my hand wasn't good enough. jeesh. Despite my many comforting statements to Youngest, he's hysterical. I can feel that I am light-headed and not feeling so good. As I stand at the sink, I feel my legs buckle and on the floor I go. I think I even manage to say to Avatar boy, "I can't stand up anymore".
People...picture the scene. My son, 4 years old, is at the sink bleeding profusely, he has turned into a blue creature and is staring at me out of the strangest slanted eyes. I almost didn't recognize him. And I am on the floor. Repetitive phrases of "it's okay, breathe." don't seem to be helping me too much. Hub walks in and says "what are YOU doing?" Guys, I was laughing then and I'm laughing now. I'm thinking, I know...this is ridiculous. I can't explain what is happening at this very moment. I have never had a "fall out" experience like this before. But here I lay, face up on the floor, can't breathe, definitely NOT Save the Day Woman and I glance up to Youngest, from a now really comfortable spot on the floor and he has stopped crying. He's staring at me, I'm sure thinking "my mother has lost her mind". I thank God at this very moment that our in-home security system does not include interior video-taping.
Hub rushes me some water, to which I continue to profess "I'm okay, I'm okay" and he tends to Youngest. Who has promptly resumed crying. People, I really can't believe at this point that I am lying on the floor and Hub has not one, but two crisis-stricken people to take care of. I'm not sure when I became the basketcase, but nonetheless, here I lie.
Youngest is quite obviously going to the hospital for quite a bit of stiches. the Hub's food...forget about it. Cold and stored in the fridge. Weekend relaxing time? Apparently, not in this cottage. As they rush off to the hospital and siblings stand around the departing car with terror stricken faces, all I can think is "I fainted on the floor. My kid was bleeding and crying and I fainted on the floor". I bid them farewell, gave them a reassuring wave, and began my prayers of "no broken nose" pleas. And then I did what any good girl would do. I called my mommy.
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