Cheer For Something...

"Fun Friday," my daughter shouted as I dropped her off at school this morning. She's right. Fridays are fun. I read a book blurb yesterday promoting this book by Pastor Joel Osteen. Studies have shown, he says, that people are happier on Fridays. YES! Don't we all agree with that? Fridays are like a bright, shining ray of hope. A glimmer of something fun on the horizon.

This weekend we are eagerly awaiting our college boy to come home for the weekend. It also happens to be Homecoming weekend for Chantilly High School. Since we bleed purple (duh!), the die-hard Copeland Charger fans will be heading out to the game this evening. There's our glimmer of something fun on the horizon. We're looking forward to a football-filled evening, reconnecting with graduate friends from last year, seeing the new generation doing their "social walk" (you know, that strut kids do, up and down the walkway, just to be seen). It's a people-watchers dream come true. Of course, the highlight of the evening will be watching the Chargers kick some Edison butt. Or maybe it will be watching Soccer Chick do her 6th grade presentation. That would be her carefully planned out social group gathering to "hang" at the game. That may be more fun to watch than the game itself. Either way, let there be no mistake, we are not quiet fans. Soccer Chick is sure to get embarrassed and Chantilly football is sure to know that we are in the stands rooting for them.

Saturday our day is packed full with sports games and team picture days. We will be busy with a huge "b". There will be plenty to cheer about for today and tomorrow. Sunday will find us cheering for Jesus. We won't be quiet and proper about that either. No matter what you are cheering on, be passionate about it. As you enter this delightful weekend, I hope you have something fun on the horizon too. Find something to cheer about and don't be afraid to cheer loudly. It's contagious.

God's Timing...

Ever wonder why things work out just the way they do? Today, my early morning events have me reflecting on just this. Today was my early day, time to wake up before the whole house and get out to work for office coverage at our satellite location. Let's just say NOT near to my home. Thankfully, this happens only a few days per month. And since they require extra energy and for me to be up before the sun, these special days require a Starbucks stop. Before rushing out of the door I had just enough time to update the church's Facebook page with this random thought: "God's timing is not our timing. Thank God that He knows more than we do."


Lacking cash, I hit up my daughter's stash. I know you are "tsk"ing and shaking your fancy little heads. You, of course, would never take money from your child. I know, I know. Horrendous. But we're talking pre-dawn behavior here. I think that counts for some sort of justified rationalization. In any case, $6 bucks later I'm headed out the door. I make my Starbucks pit stop and am pleasantly rewarded by their mistake. They grant me a venti and I've paid for grande. A venti is for sure too much coffee for me. I would never think to order one of those on my own. But hey, their mistake is my blessing, I think, as I drive away. I trudge on to work with a satisfied smile. As a slow coffee-sipper, I know this big 'ole venti coffee is going to last me all day long. Perfect.


Miraculously, I make it to work a full 30 minutes before our office doors are due to open. In the quiet, I am peacefully think how sweet it is to have the these precious moments to set up the office and relax before the onslaught arrives. No sooner than I get myself situated, a simple swipe of the hand leaves me with my mouth hanging open, in total awe as I watch my venti coffee pour out across the desk. Isn't coffee the most marvelous color? Maybe just coffee with the right amount of whipped cream and creamer mixed in is. Lovely how Starbucks makes it. As beautiful as it is, there I stood watching it spill out all over the desk. Incredible. I think I even heard myself gasp out loud. How could something so great be gone so fast?


I spent the next 15 minutes sopping up what would have been a lovely morning. Coffee everywhere and not a drop left in the cup. Unbelievable. And hours later, everything still smells like coffee. Is this punishment? I didn't get to drink it but I get to smell it all day long. Perplexed at how this all happened so fast, I wondered, how is it that I seem to be blessed with something a little extra special. I got a venti by accident, for goodness sakes. How often does that happen? And yet, I didn't get to enjoy that venti. I didn't even get to enjoy a tall. Heck, I didn't drink enough of it to measure up to a "short", if there were such a thing.

So, I wonder, why is it that things work just the way they do? Sometimes situations are just perplexing. It seemed that my timing allowed me to get a little special gift on my way to work this morning, only to have that gift taken from me. Perhaps I didn't need the coffee. Perhaps I shouldn't have robbed my poor, innocent 9 year old's stash. Perhaps it didn't mean anything other than God's timing is not our timing. Ever have a door open up for you and it just feels right? Feels like this is exactly what God wants to have happen. Only to have that same door swing shut with a thud. Boom. Door. Slammed. Closed. Ouch. It happens. Usually after such an encounter, we go back and question, "why in the world did God allow this to happen to me?" We go on with our thoughts, reflecting on what a great and deserving person we happen to be. Yet, we got jilted. Or so it feels. Perhaps, the entire experience worked out exactly the way God intended.

Remember that Facebook post this morning? Even when we think we know something about God, we truly know very little. I thought I was being super fancy and uber-smart posting that clever status. Wanted to encourage my peeps, you know? Yet, I didn't know that I would have this funny little thing happen to me that would deprive me of what I thought had been given. Life is just like that. Full of changes, near-misses, could have beens and (we think) should have beens. But, as I sighed heavily and swept up my oh-so-beautiful coffee drippings I realized it wasn't meant to be. If it didn't happen, it just wasn't meant to. This is a motto for life that I try to live by. I usually want to say "God direct my life. If you want me to have it, I will have it. If you don't, I won't." I don't always feel that content and peaceful about life changes and situations, but a motto gives you something to aspire to, right? It takes work. I mean, let's be real. I would rather have had the coffee this morning. Well, instead of getting stuck on that, I'll just remember the good times we had...in the car this morning...the few sips I was able to embrace. Meanwhile, the smell of coffee lingers, just to make sure I don't forget. And every so often I pick up something that has one little teeny-weeny drop of caramel covered pleasure on it, and I remember, this is what was not to be. Just the way God intended it.

Minute Clinic To Win It!

Life might be most grand when you make those sudden, fabulous discoveries and think where has THIS been my whole life!?! This little chick is so delighted to have had one of those moments yesterday. I've been battling with a seasonal cold, manifesting its ugly self in a funky cough and a plugged up ear. One ear. Major pain. Not physical pain, as in ear infection, but inconvenience pain, as in I can't hear anyone and I walk around saying "huh?" and bending my head. Thirty-six years young, conjuring up the image of my 90 year old grandma. A big old Italian-accented "haah?"

All you clever friends will say "go to the doctor," which is exactly what my boss said to me yesterday. Perhaps tired of listening to me try to talk to clients on the phone through the coughing spells? Who has time, I wondered? A doctor's appointment would mean taking half a day off from work and while perhaps makes complete sense, doesn't seem worthwhile enough for me to do. So like most moms, I neglected my own health in the busyness of my kids, their school work, their sports schedules, our church and my secretarial duties, and life in general. This little old cough and clogged up ear would just have to wait.

I'm the adult who was the girl who would wrap a foot in an ace bandage and walk around limping, when nothing was wrong at all. I have some funny, and a little weird health habits. Maybe it was a wrapped foot, occassionally it was a wrapped arm. Sling and all, I would pretend to have something broken. A clogged up ear is an invitation to try to unclog by some less than conventional methods. Using my palm as a suction happened, I must confess. All that clogginess in there needed to be broken up sometime. I did try a conventional method or two as well. I chewed gum until I nearly puked. My closest relatives know about my gum-chewing recurring nightmare so I should get full credit for trying this resolution. I also tried decongestant and when the drowsy, aka silliness commenced, The Hub told me to lay off that stuff.

And then, magic happened. I had one of those priceless moments. My boss suggested I try CVS' Minute Clinic.
Wow. Fireworks! Kaa-Blam! What is this thing I have not heard of? A walk-in clinic, she tells me. Go in, sign in the computer and someone will check out your routine problem for the low, low price of your co-pay. So this old gal headed right there after work yesterday evening. I put it on my errand run list, falling in line right after purchasing my makeup at the mall and having my wedding ring resized (don't ask!).

I walked in to CVS, prepared to touch the touch screen sign in and the lovely nurse asked me what I needed. I swear I could see her halo and wings spread behind her. Maybe even a aura of white light shining? Before I even had a chance to log in, she ushered me into the consultation room, checked out my ears, told me I had fluid build up and told me to take a decongestant for 3 or 4 days straight, chew gum and have a nice day. She spoke so fast I had to make up a question just to get her to pause for a breath and repeat the instructions. Diagnosis delivered, I stood up and asked her if I needed to do any paperwork or anything and she told me no. She was too tired and to have a nice night. Closing time was less than an hour away and I suppose this was the perfect time to visit the Minute Clinic.

Now, this is my kind of routine doctor visit. If dentist and ob-gyn visits were this simple I would be on track every year. Friends, what would have taken me half a day of missed work, time, energy AND a co-pay, cost me nothing. I purchased myself a sweet decongestant and called it a night. All my mom friends with those basic, "no time for the doctor" problems, go to Minute Clinic. Its a mom's dream come true.

Week 2 of sports-crazy Copelands has come and gone. Perhaps I haven't shared with you the busyness of the actual week, as compared to game time on weekends. Check this out: soccer practice Monday, baseball practice Tuesday, bible study Wednesday, soccer practice Thursday and Friday...well, Friday is recovery day. Saturday is game time. Whew, it's a busy time of year for us for sure. Someone make sure The Hub isn't reading my blog, lest he come with the "I told you so." As much as he tried to avoid having multiple children playing sports simultaneously, he lost out on that one.

As we prepared this weekend, Friday night found me getting uniforms ready and watching the rain. All the while, thinking there was no way they would have games. Praying, actually, "Lord, let them at least cancel the first one." 8:30am soccer game for Youngest means the house is up and active at 7am. On a Saturday. Let's avoid that if we can. Despite my fervent prayers, the email bright and early Saturday morning announced game on. I suppose what I was trying to avoid was having to wake up at all, so having to wake up and check the email meant it didn't really matter if they played or not.

Somehow, we got up and out of the house. Did I mention that I was asked last minute to be a substitute snack provider? To tell the truth, I did find that out on Friday night, but friends, remember, Friday is recovery day. That means it's chill time. So, I didn't use my time wisely, didn't get the snack and first thing Saturday morning there I was scrambling trying to get to Giant. Needless to say Youngest was late to the practice/game. His team practices for 30 minutes and then plays for 30. We literally arrived, snack in tow, at the in-between time for practice and game time. How do you spell embarrassing?

Let me just tell you that I hate to be late. When I was younger and a lot less confident in myself, I would literally skip a class if it meant I had to walk in late and be on spotlight. I know, it makes no logical sense, but I have this fear of embarrassment that I continue to work on. So walking up to a field of soccer moms, with their pretty faces, lovely hair and Starbucks in hand, was like sudden death for me. And I brought the snack. I was that mom. You know, the one the others are shaking their heads at.

To add to that, I literally was on the field with a sports chair on my back, cooler with drinks in my hand, bags of snack in the other, and it occurred to me for the second week in a row I had forgotten something important. Last week it was the cleats. How do you spell embarrassing, again? This week it was the soccer ball. Fail.

The game went on, Youngest scored 1 of the team's 4 goals to take home the win. When all was said and done a very nice mom was trying to make conversation with me and I found myself just standoffish, thinking does she know I didn't have time to shower? Could she possibly know that I was thinking I would be home sleeping right now? I did brush my teeth, of course, but does she not see that I do NOT have a cup of coffee in my hand? If she did, she would have backed away slowly.

The other two games of the day were cancelled. Funny how things work out. The 8:30 game went on as planned. The afternoon games didn't. When we returned from the early morning game and I had time to make that cup of coffee, I added some delicious new creamer to it. "MMM, that's good," I said to no one in particular. "Really," Soccer Chick asked, "let me try it." Like the bad mom I am, I let her have a sip. "Yea, that's good," she agreed. "Yes," I said, "so good it will make you smack your mama," I kidded. Never fails, here comes Youngest, "oh yea? Let me try it." Always the cleaver one, he takes a sip (I already told you I was a bad mom), "MMM, that IS good," he says, as he proceeds to slap me lightly on the cheek and look at me with that stand up comedian charm, as if to say "get it? Get my joke?" Ha. Ha. Youngest. Funny. Very funny.

She Did/Said What???

Raising a very handsome little boy has its drawbacks. One way would have to be that the poor boy is getting marriage proposals in Kindergarten. You read it right. Kindergarten. In a very nonchalant manner, Youngest politely informed me that one of his classmates told him she wants to marry him. Now for me, it wasn't a "Pass the bread. How was your day. By the way...a girl wants to marry me." Oh no. Make no mistake. For me it was, screeching on brakes, red flag waving, stopping dead in my tracks "what!?!" Followed by a whole slew of "who is this girl. What does she look like?" And more importantly..."Who. Is. Her. Mama?" That one said through pinched lips and gritted teeth.

Turns out this little blonde bombshell is quite fond of my Youngest. Not that I blame her. He's a cutie, and he's only five. But, marriage? Really? What makes a five year even think like that? I guess she knows what she likes. Could this be the start of a long public school career that includes girls swooning, year after year? I have a feeling this little boy is going to keep me very, very busy.

In fact, I have to keep my eyes on all these Copeland children. There continues to be not a dull moment amongst them. This morning, while searching for a snack from the pantry, Bball Girl shuts herself in there, with strict instructions for no one to join her for a moment. While we sat looking bewildered, she re-entered the kitchen with a bag of snack cookies. Knowing that entire box was finished a few days ago, we wondered where in the world she had hidden that. "Really, Bball Girl? It's like that? You have taken to hiding snacks." With a very confident look on her face, she announced, "Mom, yes. I HAVE to do that." I would say it's a competitive world out there, but apparently, friends, it's a competitive world in here too.

Triple Header Weekend...

Friends! So excited to blog to you about our first fall sports weekend. As expected, and debated in the Copeland house, we had a triple header. Three games. One Saturday. No overlap. Just the way I like it. Now, you should know that The Hub gave me a terribly hard time about all three of these jewels playing a sport at the same time. But I negotiated, finagled and rationalized the fairness of each of them playing as a must-happen! And here we are, first Saturday of games and we survived. I will confess, by the time we got home, ole' girl here was pooped. But, never mind that, the fun news is the sports report.

Started off the morning with some baseball. As much as I was dreading the potential length of this one, I found myself surprised. My Bball Girl is playing double AA, and for the first game it was coach pitch. From what I hear, as we progress through the season we will be switching to kid-pitch and then my nightmare of never-ending games will present itself. But for this morning my only complaint would be the light rain and cold temps. Because we enjoy a good round of humor, we brought along The Hub's mom.

Dressed for weather below 0 degrees. My Mo-In-Law brought along an entire pack of oreo cookies and a jug of water. Yes, you remember correctly. I did say that this was our first game of the day. It was all of 9am. Once I got past having to set the alarm for 7am on a Saturday, followed by a nice piping hot cup of coffee, we settled in for what I thought would be a long morning. I was pleasantly surprised. Bball Girl's team played quite well. True, there was some players that left me shaking my head, but also a few who the Hub was crying "future Major League-er!"

The game was exciting with lots of quick play and very little dragging along. Thank goodness. On Bball Girl's first pitch of the season she smacked it down the center for a base hit. Holding on to her batting helmet she trotted down to first. A parent / neighbor from the opposing team sauntered over to ask us if she still runs like a deer. Hey, the girl has a reputation around these parts. We have coached her to let go of that helmet. It's slowing her down. Other exciting news for her would be the catch she caught at 2nd base for an out and her 2nd time at bat hitting a double. That time she ran like we knew she could, and thankfully, let go of the batting helmet. Her team pulled in the win 9-8, in under two hours. The day was starting wonderfully.

Quickly we moved on to the second stop of our three-legged Saturday tour. It was not until we parked on the soccer field and rushed out of the car to Youngest's first game that I had the sinking realization that his shin guards were at home. Not once the day before during my preparation time, or all morning while we ran around getting ready, did those shin guards cross my mind. How does that happen? So, we weighed our options and decided to go for the fake. We put those soccer socks on his bony little legs and hoped none of the coaches would notice. At his age they are playing four on four with no refs, so it was game on!

And yes, 5 and 6 year olds playing soccer ARE nothing but a traveling beehive of flailing legs, kids falling on the ground, believe it or not, some pushing and panicked looks of confusion. Since it was cold and rainy the unbearable soccer parents were kept at bay. The Hub and I joined them in sitting quietly on the side. No one noticed that my boy's skinny little calves looked a little more skinny than they should have. No surprise, like I said. Traveling beehive. Youngest's team lost 5-3. Two of those 3 goals came from Youngest. He says, "I could have gotten the 4th one mom. They pulled me out of the game!" Isn't that just always the way?

Once we finished up with our first round of baseball and soccer it was on to Soccer Chick's debut. This season we have a brand new coach for our team. I know you're disappointed but The Hub decided to take this season off. Much to the girls deep disappointment and sadness. Total. Kidding. In any case, we have the same squad as last season with a few new girls, and this new coach. From the looks of practices he has lots of soccer experience. In this debut game he put Soccer Chick on left defense. I was shaking my head from the time the clock started. She played defense alright, I guess, but it is definitely not her strength. She does have a powerful kick so she had some pretty good interceptions to send the ball flying back into our scoring zone. At some point she was moved to midfield and then we saw some more action. I loved her body block that sent the other girl stumbling and the ref said "play on!" She definitely came out to play aggressively and hustled her butt off. Sad to say, at the end of the day we ended with a 5-0 loss. 5-0. You read that right. Our defense is definitely our biggest weakness. Biggggggest weakness.

The highlight of that game would have to be the ref going off on one of our parents for a side comment about his lack of an offsides call. Oh man. That ref stopped the entire game and you could have heard a cricket chirp in a ditch 50 feet away. He was all of a sudden a very unhappy man. Following the game, the coach gave us the post-game talk, which included specific instructions to not piss off the refs. Coach asked us to please not mess with them and let the coaching come from him. Where was The Hub? Notorious for his side coaching, yelling and antics from the sideline? Well. He was working. He missed what he needed to hear. I relayed it to him, don't worry. But you think he will be fazed by that? Not a chance. Soccer Chick is already worried he will get her personally ejected from a game. :) Friends, its going to be a delightful season! Catch you up next week...

Copeland-isms

Nowhere in my custom-designed prayer list could I have thought to even ask God to give me such funny, clever, witty children. Thought today I would share some of their funny ways of expressing what they think they know...

"Mom, I want to wear my diarrhea of a whippy-kid shirt." That would be Youngest asking for his Diary of A Wimpy Kid t-shirt.

"Can you turn the water on? My hands are slippy." Youngest, requesting help for what his soapy hands can not do.

"So...who's your partner in your door?" Bball Girl inquiring, via text message, who is the roommate in the dorm of our college friend Camila.

"Why's Soccer Chick always trying to look so pretty all the time," says Bball Girl as she shows her disdain across her face. "What's wrong with that," I ask. "She's not Mrs. Obama, mom! Gosh." "So," I say. "I try to look pretty too." "Mom! You're a mom. You can't walk around looking dirty all the time."

"Mom, I have toothpaste on my body," reports Youngest to me. "I tried water, my hands and more toothpaste but I can't get it off." Youngest leans in for a big sappy hug. "So, I was thinking...can I just brush my teeth really, really, really good in the morning and we'll just forget about tonight?

Doorbell rings. 2nd time in one day that our neighbor children have come to call on Youngest to come out and play. Soccer Chick gets the door and looks at me for a yes or no. Youngest looks longingly at me, "Mom, can we just re-do what we already did today. You know how the doorbell rings. You answer and say yes that I can go outside if my sister goes to. And then she goes and then I play. Can we just do that all over again?"

Like Mama, Like Daughta' (and son)...

Of course when you have children you expect to see the natural, physical resemblances your kids have to you. You notice the similar eyes, hair color/texture, and body shapes. For me, a shorty of the biggest kind, I've long kept a prayer, "Lord, give these kids some height." I might get a certain percentage of victory, but my Bball Girl is looking like it might be she and I looking low when we're all adults.

One of the traits that I share with my babies is crooked pinkies. Believe it. Rare, but true. I get them from my dad and who knows where he got them from. He told me once he broke them both playing baseball. Um. "No, Dad," I told him, "impossible for you to have passed them on to me genetically." Nonetheless, that funny man insisted that his advanced athletic skills and fierce competitive spirit resulted in two broken, and identical pinkies. Two generations later, while pregnant with the first of that generation, I prayed, "Lord, don't give this baby crooked pinkies." It was the first thing I checked for after giving birth to her. Confession: I have vivid memories of my own self-consciousness about raising my hand and showing those pinkies to the world.

What do you know, Soccer Chick was born without crooked pinkies. That said, my next two pregnancies I literally forgot to pray about it. I'm not saying that's why those two were born with crooked pinkies, but I do know I didn't do my part. Both those babies have my crooked pinkies, clear as day. You ever do that? Totally skip the most important part...to pray about it? Happens all the time, but it remains the main ingredient to whatever your recipe calls for.

Aside from the crooked pinkies, this back to school week showed me the genetic links between me and my kids goes beyond the physical. As Northern Virginia experienced torrential downpours this week, those precious babies reminded me they are mine. As they got off the bus yesterday, they took a hold of the umbrellas The Hub had brought for them. And as they ran the block to our house, rain pouring down, all three, not one but THREE of them were shouting "my shoes! my shooooesss!" YES! Confirmation. These are my babies. They are truly related to me.

I must tell, as a pre-teen I started my first babysitting job at age 12. My pay went to shoes. When I turned 16 and got my first job, my paycheck went to shoes. This girl loves some shoes. We can argue nature vs. nurture and you can debate that I taught my kids to be strongly concerned about the appearance of their shoes, but I will tell you I have not. I could be fibbing, but I'm going to stick with the belief that I have not passed on this love of feet coverings to those kids. Those gems come by their loves of shoes naturally. Sure, they can look at my shoe closet and see the 6 shelves full, sorted by color, of course. Every type, color and style. And as only a true shoe-addict knows, a little of every size. Now, you know it doesn't matter if they fit well. Do they look good? I suppose they have grown up around that, and for years the girls have played with my shoes. Nonetheless, I'm just glad they know what's important. God bless 'em. Forget about their hair, clothes, bookbags or anything else. Sweet children...concerned that their new shoes would be messed up. That's my babies. Mama is so proud.

Off They Go...

It goes without saying that Youngest was beside himself with excitement this morning. In fact, all three of the remaining under-age Copelands were pretty psyched. Naturally. The first day of school is pretty big in our house.

Yesterday at church, The Hub preached about going "Back to School." His focus was on our kids being prepared for the school year ahead. He preached a pretty clever living message, complete with some change in gear, to show how the "cool" kids go off looking to school, and some new sneakers to make sure he was looking fresh to death. Had his backpack, phone on his hip and the pants drooped down. His message emphasized that we parents need to get them spiritually ready too. Making sure they are clean on the inside is even more important than what's on the outside.

This morning, our get-ready routine was pretty calm. Of all of them, I think I might have had the hardest time. No, not what you think. I wasn't falling apart watching my baby get ready for school. I didn't get choked up as he puts on his new kicks, and put his shorts on backwards. I, personally, just seemed to be the one who had the typical "nothing is working right" kind of morning. I broke two hair bows, changed outfits twice and couldn't find the right shoes to save my life. I searched the same drawer no less than 4 times for a new hairbow and only on the 5th time did one magically appear. I'm blaming it on the rain. Once I got myself together I joined those lovely children in the kitchen where the awesome Hub had cooked them breakfast. I would say Youngest was delighted... "Aw, yea. Come to papa! Well, I don't even know who papa is but okay..." Youngest rambled as The Hub set a plate of eggs and pancakes in front of him.

The morning did kick off with The Hub's annual song "First Day of School." I so wish I had a sound bite for you. He has been singing this exact same made up song since Oldest started Kindergarten. This tradition of his has seen one child all the way from Kindergarten to the text message of "First Day of College" a few weeks ago. The song lives on. The kids know it's coming. So this morning we found them buried under their covers, thinking it was The Hub coming in to kick off his song.

The backpacks were all packed, lunchbox ready for Youngest. Lots of "do this" and "don't do that" pep talks. Mostly, Youngest just made faces at me like I was speaking Chinese. When I closed my speech with "be a good listener" he politely informed me "I prolly won't listen. I don't have that good of ears. What was that word you just said? See. Ha!" And with that he was thoroughly prepared to head to the bus stop.

As I tried to get us ready to stand in our family circle and share a word of prayer before we headed out, The Hub told me I was way early. "No! I exclaimed. You have to make sure we are there in time for the group picture!" Dead silence. "It's official," says The Hub, "you are a professional cornball."