On Turning 38...

As I celebrate my birthday today, I thought I'd share some random thoughts that express some truths I've learned in my 38 short years. Enjoy

• Telling my age really doesn't matter. Telling my weight is a whole different story
• As young as I feel I am, it is possible for  me to have a grown child and a young child at the same time. Sometimes the way I have to deal with them is exactly the same
• The older I get, the more appreciation I earn
• There is at least one daily opportunity to share wisdom with others. I try not to miss a day
• Everyday must include laughter. This way the days that include tears are not quite as hard to bear
• Give good advice. You're wiser than you know and more people are listening than you think
• I started running February of this year. I do not enjoy running. I do enjoy races
• This year I've completed three 5k races so far. The fact that I have not died is amazing
• It would not be possible to replace The Hub with a more amazing, unique, entertaining soul
• Prayer works
• I am the coolest parent I know
• I have the coolest children I know
• There is plenty of room to live in fear daily. The unexpected and tragic happens all around us. Not living bound by fear is a choice
• There are actual women who love football. I, and my two daughters, are three of them
• I strongly dislike being forced to relearn elementary school math
• I am seriously blessed. I have an amazing family, a good job, a great life, strong faith and a million and two reasons to be joyful. All year long.

No Shame In This Game...

Ask anyone who knows me well, what is this ole' girl's favorite holiday? Easy: Christmas! For a lot of people the answer would be the same; the smells of winter, a fresh cut Christmas tree, the colors, the joy in the air, the warmth of giving and being surrounded by loved ones. Maybe it's because I'm a December baby. I fear it's a little more deep rooted than that.

For as far back into my childhood as I can reach, I can remember being super excited about Christmas. My mother will confirm that I was notorious for scouting out the presents. In the several child hood homes that I can remember, I can still picture rooms and closets where presents were hid. Not to be outsmarted, those presents were carefully unwrapped just enough to see what's inside, and re-wrapped as if this slickster was never there. Like any good crime-committing child, my skills developed over time. There is something about patience and waiting that alluded me...still does today, I'm afraid.

Many a Christmas later, I'm better. I don't scout out the presents for a little game of peeking. I've evolved. Although, confession: it took many adult years to get here. Don't you worry, it's not just the getting that I got hung up on. Wouldn't want you to perceive me as shallow; it's absolutely the giving. Something about wrapping presents, one by one brings the same joy as grocery shopping and doing laundry. Yes, these are real sources of contentment. Strange, I already know. Christmas is my true favorite holiday because I love, love shopping for people, wrapping the gifts and watching the satisfaction of hitting the nail on the head with a well-planned gift. The look of pure glee when I come in with bags, haul out the wrapping paper, tape and scissors and go to work! The Hub finds it amusing. The kids think I'm strange. I can barely tell because my vision is blurred from my cheeks rising so high on my glee-filled face.

Recently, The Hub reminded me that he got a gift at a work party last year, opened it ahead of Christmas (the horror!) and it landed somewhere in the heavily decorated living room. Not a few days later, I scooped that bad boy up and re-wrapped it; put the precious cargo under the tree and called it a day. On Christmas morning, when The Hub got to this gift with his name on it he happily unwrapped it. I thought the man would die laughing as he found his recently received present re-wrapped for him to open and receive again. Hey, who doesn't like to open gifts...twice? I figured it will be one more thing the very-hard-to-shop-for-man would have on Christmas morning. Don't be alarmed. Also, you've been warned. Don't leave your gifts lying around me before Christmas comes. They will disappear and reappear.

All of my over-the-top Christmas behaviors just remind me that I am still very much in love with this holiday. Other childhood favorites like Valentine's Day and Halloween have left my life, practically never to be seen again, I mean, c'mon. Valentine's Day is all pink, and hearts and chocolate that I sure don't need, and a one-gift slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am. And don't get me and my thighs even started on discussing Halloween. But, ah Christmas. Christmas has remained etched into the silly grin plastered on my face almost constantly through this month. I'm leaving my kids quite the legacy to live up to. You know how excited kids get for Christmas. They are energeized children and yet I believe that I have them beat.

I'm working on being more mature about this. The tree & home decorating experience has become more of a group project than it was in our early years of marriage. We maintain a great tradition of going to pick out a tree together as a family. But, clearly, the decorating has to be done under my watchful eye. The lights are mine to wrap around our newly welcomed pine-friend. I concede just a little by letting them hang the ornaments. I have reluctantly given up the job of being the present distributor Christmas morning. This was a hard one for me, but after years of begging I gave in and passed the torch on this one. "Fine, children, take my job, why don'tcha?" I told them, with all the love in my voice I could muster up. I won't be able to tell you that it's easy for me to sit idly by and watch them do it all wrong. But the mature adult in me has learned to manage the inner turmoil I feel over watching more than one present handed out at a time, paper ripped haphazardly and an unorganized, unstructured view of who got what. Oh, good grief. One can't even tell who the gift was from. Just wrong, I tell ya. Just writing about it is causing my heart rate trouble.

Lest you think I'm a neurotic fool, let me assure you this is the only area of my life where the got-to-have-control button is broken and can't be turned off. Right, mom? Don't answer that... Hey, some lifelong habits need to be resolved. Some are detrimental to one's well-being. Some are just odd that earn a person strange looks and unflattering name tags. In my defense, I don't believe that is applicable to me at this time, in reference to this situation. This is just good-natured and full of pure joy. You can either join with me in the spirit of things and try to understand where I am coming from, or join my family who each have decided that mom is strange, and this is one more example of it. Each of us should have at least one thing in our lives that is unreasonably youthful and fun. Merry your Christmas, friends!

Lasting Compassion...

"There are people in our life who are hurting...and we don't even know it." Profound quote, taken from the man on Christian radio this morning as he spoke about the unfathomable murder/suicide involving the KC Chiefs NFL player and his girlfriend. It's worth repeating since in the days following this awful travesty, people are left wondering how they didn't know about what this guy was going through. It's terribly sad to read, watch and hear about as it's played out in the news. It's devastating when it hits close to our own homes.

Yesterday my pastor preached a phenomenal message about giving. Many churches across the country will spend the month of Christmas focused on the joys found in being giving people. Statistics show the increase in the giving spirit that comes at this time of year, more than any other time. The thing is, we lose that giving spirit as we round the bend into the new year. We lose the heaviness and sadness we feel at the loss Jovan Belcher and his girlfriend, Kasandra Perkins. Feelings fade.

Emotions that we feel strongly at this moment, won't be as prevalent in three weeks. Time has that awful way of doing that to us. As I took in the sermon yesterday, I couldn't write my notes fast enough. I'm captivating by giving. Both The Hub and I have a lifelong passion to be givers, whether it's money (doesn't mean you get to call me for some), opening our home, volunteering for service, kindness, resources, etc. Our list can't be long enough. After all, you know what they say..."you can't outgive God." Maybe not, but we'd like to die trying.

Pastor found this amazing website that feeds right into our fancy: www.ilikegiving.com. This fantastic idea sprung from one man's vision to not only be a giver, but be a platform to promote more selfless giving. Giving brings joy. Joy brings peace. Peace brings the ability to triumph over extremely difficult situations. Triumph means we make it through the rough patches unscathed. Jovan Belcher didn't have joy, peace, or triumph. My hope is that anytime we learn of such a tragedy as this one, it's a lasting reminder of how precious people are; a lasting reminder of how we truly don't know what people are going through. Since we can't possibly know our co-workers, neighbors and even friends, struggles completely we should work to operate with compassion constantly. Make it your rule of thumb, not an exception to your normal rule.

On a lighter note, I'll close my blog post today with a recap of a fantastic youth basketball game. Not that I'm biased or anything, but 5th grade basketball is as good to watch as any old WNBA game. In fact, watching my girl out there do her thing yesterday afternoon had me casting visions of seeing her in that WNBA game. She's fierce, I tell ya. Naturally athletic, and ridiculously competitive, she had her opponent ticked off. Season opener was closed with a win, 31-18 and a strong 17 points by my Bball Girl. Her defense is intense and I'm not joking when I tell you the girl she was covering was frustrated. Complaining to the ref didn't help her. Throwing a wild elbow and a push or two didn't help her. Bball Girl stayed in the zone, dominating the play and beautifully managing to not let the girl get in her head. It was fun to watch and possibly even more fun to chuckle at The Hub as he lightheartedly debated with an opponent's parents, conveniently seated next to us. I'm going to have to find a far away seat to put him in for these games.

A Month Of Thanks

Found something interesting going on all over Facebook this month. Friends, family, folks I only half-way know, are using the month of November to do a post-a-day on why they are thankful. What a bright idea! I love the thought of telling your Facebook world one thing (at least) that you are thankful for each day. It's honest, thought-provoking and generates the overall theme of thanks that we all feel every November.

Personally, I love November. I'm learning as a native Virginian that I enjoy the cold weather less and less. I'm reminded as soon as the cold, bitter air hits my face that I don't enjoy that part of this time of year. Annually, I give my don't-like-the-cold chuckle to whoever will entertain me. "Why do I choose to live here, again?" Maybe it's getting harder, the older I am getting. I'm not up for exploring that one any further.

Besides my objection to the cold weather, the entrance of fall brings Thanksgiving, and my personal favorite-Christmas. I am, for sure, a holiday person. I love the opportunity to really enjoy my family, outside of the constant hustle and bustle that makes up our busy lives, year round. It's cliche, but I really do take the days off and the family time, at this time of year, personally.

This Thanksgiving, we will be home again, cooking up a feast for way more people that are actually going to ring my bell. I'm looking forward to days off from work, spending time with the kids and The Hub, seeing some extended family members that I don't see near enough of, and more. Black Friday shopping, anyone? This Thanksgiving an additional super-exciting treat of a Turkey Trot is included. I'm bursting with excitement at the thought of my sister and I running this 5k together.

November is going to be tremendous. It already has been, and it's barely mid-month. Being the person of faith that I am, I constantly find myself looking for ways to encourage others. I usually use my Facebook status updates as an opportunity to share wisdom. Sometimes it's my own good stuff, often it's something my Pastor has shared in his preaching. Finding these days of thanksgiving posts on my Facebook news feed got me thinking about how we as a society take one collective deep breath around Thanksgiving. We're nicer people, we are statistically more giving, and we look for more ways to be positive towards others. It's that generous spirit that comes upon us like a warm and fluffy coat. You know the one. That special coat that feels like a big, soft hug. We seem to violently shake our arms right out of that coat somewhere around January.

I wonder what happens that makes us want to take that jacket off. Getting too warm under there, perhaps? All of a sudden, the extended niceness feels stuffy. Maybe like everything else, it's hard for things to stay the same. Maybe we can't learn how to be thankful all year round. But...just maybe we can. Wouldn't  you say it's a conscious choice? If we choose to take that coat-of-thanks off somewhere around January, it's a choice, no? We start to see the let down after Christmas has passed. We no longer feel generous and kind. We feel broke, spent and in debt. We see the New Year resolutions falter. It's still cold outside. And we are back into the daily grind of things. Somehow the things to complain about outweigh the things we have to be thankful for. Or so we think. This year, I would love to see the month-of-thanks posts in February...or April; some random month like that. Let's be random this year. Let's stretch November clear into June. Challenge yourself to be different. Be the change you want to see. After all, just like a good ole' cold, goodness is seriously contagious.

Simmer Down, Settle In...It's Productive

Somewhere in the back of my mind, every now and then, it occurs to me that I haven't blogged in quite awhile. For fear of knowing how long it has actually been, I haven't faced it head on. Avoided checking and reminded myself that at some point when things slow down a bit, I'll get back to it. It would take Hurricane Sandy, to give me a true "off" day. Other days off from my regular job, equal work at my other jobs: kids' sports games, church activities and otherwise general errand-busyness.

Today, however, Fairfax County Government has closed it's beautiful doors and given me that elusive true day off. I've been more productive today, couch-sitting, TV-background noise-having, as I've been able to complete update the church's website. My goodness. It's been awhile, and it took awhile. Two hours later, I'm really thanking God for giving me the specific and directed time to get this done. Check it out...www.fairfaxfellowship.org. Even better, come check us out. You'll love it.

Once that was finished, I realized it was time to face my blog-fears. Gulp...August...I haven't blogged since the 2nd of this beautiful month. What has caused such a travesty? Goodness: vacation, school preparation, kids actually starting school (not sure I've completed adjusted to that yet) and a work transition that "hectic" doesn't begin to describe. Next thing you know, here I sit, almost three entire months later. Whew. Life sure can keep you busy.

In a nutshell, we had a fantastic vacation to none other than the great Disney World. I was hopeful to see someone famous wandering through one of the four parks we visited during our week there.  Someone? Anyone? Is that too much to ask? Instead the trip highlight reel includes the girl picking her boogers incessantly, with two parents that never turned around to look at her old, eleven or twelve year old self. When I think back on Disney, that's probably going to be my most prominent memory. There were lots of other great memories and the kids had a blast. It was super hot, and an all-around perfect vacation.

Youngest started football for the first time (how did I not blog about THAT!?!). Joining Chantilly Youth Association's Rookie League, he entertained us with a short season of  missed tackles and general "no idea what I'm doing"ness. Bless his heart. Tiny as can be, he saddled up with those pads for each practice and scrimmage and went out there with a giant-sized eagerness. My hopes for him being the starting quarterback, or his choice: the dynamic running back, were absolutely tabled, for this season at least. Like a good football mama, I sat quietly on the sidelines, keeping my mumbling and grumbling to a minimum as best I could. You know I wanted him to run the ball; with his speed, agility and energy, I had, and have, no doubt he would be talented at the game. It seems this season the cards were stacked against him, with most of the players being returning Rookie Leaguers who played with this same coach last season. I'm not worried, his time will come.
I, personally, am very proud of myself for keeping my gripes to a volume directly under my breath. Even more proud of him for occasionally asking if he could run the ball, and continuously being outspoken and motivated about getting himself put in the starting line up. He demonstrated drive and determination...among 6 and 7 year olds.

As oldest headed off to his 2nd year of college, we embarked on middle school for Soccer Chick, 5th grade for Bball Girl and 1st grade for Youngest. Lots of change, and plenty of busyness. Youngest is experiencing homework for the first time. He's no boy-genius or anything, but I am thankful he whips through the one page worksheet of whatever in about 30 seconds daily. Bball Girl is finding 5th grade to be a whole other level of work. She doesn't have a fall sport to round out her time, so that has made homework and school the only thing on her plate for a few months. Even without being assigned to a specific team, she has found herself on football and soccer fields, involved with some sort of ball. We're thinking we may just gently force her to play soccer next fall. The girl is so athletic, it doesn't seem to matter what the sport is, so long she is playing, she is happy. Soccer chick is once again playing house league soccer. She mentioned in passing, next spring she may not play soccer, but would cheerlead instead. Good grief. I let her leave the room before I picked myself up off the floor. We're going to pretend that convo never happened. So far, middle school hasn't been the death of me, this 2nd time around. I'm so thankful we've had no major meltdowns, crisis or minor travesties. Dare I say, Soccer Chick actually seems to like it? It's an anomaly, I know...

Sometimes when so much is going on, it just might take the force of a hurricane to settle folks down. Today, I've been in the basement since 8am. No fear, mind you. Just a good, comfy place to sit, let the TV watch me, keep the kids entertained and do some things I otherwise don't have much time for...like blogging. Talk to you soon, I promise.

Rookie Runner vs. Severely Social

 Youngest was kind enough to journey with me on my jog today. My plan was 30 minutes, about 3 miles. Youngest bikes; I run. As we head out, everything is going great. I'm 2 minutes into my run and Youngest lets loose. At 7 1/2 minutes I catch a cramp. I decided to walk it off, feeling like it was unbearable and I couldn't run through the pain. I started up running again a few minutes later and didn't get very far before my cramp returned and I returned to walking. On the last leg of the 30 minute circle I ran the final rest of the way. All in all it was 36 minutes total, a small little 15 minutes of which was running.

What in the world could have caused such poor running endurance? Youngest, riding along on his bike, in-between swerving and braking directly in front of me, sounded like this:

"Mom, I got stung by a bee today. Check my pinky finger (swerve). Look, I can ride with one hand. I should have brought water with me. I'll get some when I get back home. Are we crossing here? Why in the world would they plant poison ivy right here. Can you take this thing off my bike? Bball Girl should have come with us. Mom, why would that lady walk home in her bathing suit? Put a towel on! Today, at camp, my wiggly tooth was driving me crazy. See? (swerve). You're done running now? Oh, you're just taking a break. I'm going to ride ahead of you so you can see me. Actually, I'm going to ride behind you (swerve and brake) so I know which way we are going. What?  The pool's open over here? I had no idea. Did you know that, mom? What's for dinner? I'm going to put some fruit in my water when I get back home. Will we watch the Olympics again tonight? Can you put my seat up on my bike? I'm way too big for this thing. Your done running again? Mom, did you know we had water day at camp today? Whoa, did you see that butterfly!?! That is an ugly dog. Is this the opening where we drive when we come from Walmart? Remember you said you would get me a sleeping bag next time we go to Walmart. Remember, you said that?"

Clearly he has no idea that it takes every ounce of my being to be out here doing this at all.  Every drop of energy is being consumed with focusing on putting one step in front of the other. At 7 1/2 minutes in I caught that cramp. I am attributing that cramp to the motor that was running beside me. It's a gift. The Hub has the same gift. It's the gift of gab, and goodness knows, those that have it love to use it. There we are, I'm trying to get in the zone; Youngest is just being youngest. It was truly the Rookie Runner against the Severely Social. Anything he could think to talk about he talked about. Bless his heart, he can't even help it. It would be wrong for me to stifle his awesomeness. Funny enough, he hasn't yet matured to the adult phase that The Hub is stricken with. That would be the requirement of an answer to each question. That sweet Hub, he's mastered the need to end every thought (notice I didn't say question) with a "right?" or a "don't you think so" which requires the sweet listener that I am to respond. When no response comes, the question gets asked again. It's quite comical. As time has gone on, I've gotten quieter and The  Hub has gotten louder. 

In this case, if it were boxing I would be the one pinned up against the ropes taking my beating as if it was being handed to me like an old-fashioned butt whippin' from my mama. If it were badminton, I threw the match, if it were women's beach volleyball I was the Austrian sisters. And goodness, if it was the women's gymnastic team I was certainly the Russians sobbing on the side. The boy had me beat. I couldn't focus, I couldn't run. It literally took all my energy to run and absorb the stimuli he was exuding. I didn't have a choice, I couldn't tune him out and, and he sure wasn't going to stop. The hardest part had to be that he was making sense. It was just conversation and those social people like to do. It wasn't stream of consciousness, he was just observing and commenting on his world. 

It's the dilemma of living with that very social person. The one who talks to complete strangers in public, as if they are old buddies. The one who is bold, confident and self-assured. It's the mini-The Hub. Youngest is for sure his father's child. The other three did not do a good job preparing me for this. Oldest, especially, being the other boy-child, is no comparison. This one is contemplating the world's problems out-loud, while Oldest was the one reflecting deeply inside and quietly playing with toy trucks on the floor beside me. Like night and day. 

Although this run didn't go the way I had intended, I still exercised for 36 minutes. I was still running circles around those couch potatoes out there. Those are long, drawn out, slow-moving circles, but still circles. This here was round 1. I won't let Youngest and his inquisitive, incredibly social nature get the best of me. I'll take him on again. I'm not scurred. Without earplugs, even. With every experience we have to learn and improve. I get it. I got his number next time

As a side and final note, when I typed in "talkative" on google images to get a picture to go with this blog post, Kate Gosselin's face comes up. Now that is just plain funny.

The Letdown

A few days ago I saw an interview with Michael Phelps, pre-London Olympic disaster. Matt Lauer obviously interviewing Phelps because he was the one to watch. Turns out, not so much. Ironically enough, in the interview Michael tells Matt that after the 2008 Olympics he was on an extreme high. He had won a tremendous amount of Gold medals (ponder that for a second - Gold!) and he was floating on top of the world. I imagine his return to the United States and even his own community was met with tremendous fanfare. Perhaps a parade, lots of endorsements (think Subway commercials) and a whole lot of superstar attention.

Then the Olympics were over. The fanfare faded, the paraders went home and the endorsements faded away because he was no longer the "it" face. Michael says he hit an unbelievably low-low. He did nothing for 6 months straight, he said. What? He's an Olympian...many times over. He didn't work, he didn't market himself and he certainly didn't swim or train. He was depressed.

Today I ran across an article announcing the suicide of the NFL player O.J. Murdoch of the Tennessee Titans. Never heard of this guy, but I learned that he took his own life in front of his high school. The article told me that he spent his entire first year of the NFL on the bench with an injury. Sad way to start off a career. Huge letdown for him following high school and college athletics. Killing himself in front of his high school makes me feel like he must have been a really big deal in those earlier years. Probably lots of attention, lots of fanfare. Maybe he even had a parade in his honor. Dealing with an injury that sidelined him perhaps threw him off the track of the thing that he had built his foundation on. Football.

Both of these guys together caused me to pause and really think about what can take a guy so high and then leave him feeling so low and so empty. Foundation. For Michael I am sure swimming literally is his life. I am quite sure I don't want to know about the training regime, the diet or the everyday exercise and lifestyle. I think my muscles would ache just hearing of it. Switch me over to the football field and I can tell you I don't want to know how it actually feels to have a life committed to football. The grueling practices, hard-hitting ins and out of the game - it's tough. Both of these men have lives built around the talent of their physical body. When that fades, or the game changes, or the body doesn't work the way they wanted to, or the emotional high note is not as bright, what is left?

I didn't follow O.J's career so I don't know if he struggled with other things in his life. I do know that his family has got to be devastated that he is no longer with them and maybe shaking their heads  in wonder at why this had to be his only option. Of course, I don't have the physical body to boast talents on but I do have things that are very important to me-my family,  my church ministry, my career. What if those things let me down? What if the excitement was gone and I was left in a low, very dark place? My foundation is in Christ. In Christ is in strength. They are interchangeable terms. One of the key aspects of my faith that propels me to go forward no matter what, is knowing that God's got my back, He's standing in front, and He's protected my sides. In other words, He is my foundation. I have him to reach out to when I am in that low, low place. If my foundation is in anything else (sports, talent, career, etc) I have to know that those things fade with time and circumstances. I have yet to find any other thing that is a constant constantly. He's the same yesterday, today and tomorrow. Recently I read retired NFL coach Tony Dungy's book and was utterly impressed and encouraged at his declaration: football is just football. Sure, it's important. But not as important as God, your family and your life.

I can only imagine what it would be like to be an Olympian or an NFL player. I can't imagine what it would feel like to come down off that mountain top. I'm just a small time player, the journey from mountaintop to the ground isn't quite as far for me as it is for some of these super famous people. I sympathize with their feeling of letdown and wish I could tell them to make sure they have the rock-solid foundation that will guarantee their safe-landing when life says it's time to be let down. If I can't reach them, maybe I can encourage you. Check your foundation. Make sure it's fool-proof, secure and unshakeable. Make sure your foundation is in Christ. He'll carry you through the rise and fall of all those other things.

I Eat Hummus

There comes a time in every young person's life when they mature enough to say they can "remember when..." as if the "when" was eons ago. Usually there is someone in close proximity, possibly older in age, who throws in the "ahh, you're still young!" Many times there are events that occur that spark the realization that you, and I, are indeed old. No matter what anyone says, we have had realized the truth.

Being married for 15 years and having four children is reminder enough that spring chicken I am not. Subtly, there are other reminders as I go day to day with my "I am still young" banner across my heart. This week I had one of those shocking reminders that wasn't anywhere near subtle. As I did my usual grocery shopping, kids-in-tow, doing my best to keep eyes on all of them, talk fast enough to keep Youngest from whatever quick-thought-turned-to-daredevil action he was embarking on and keeping up conversation with The Hub AND Soccer Chick (it's quick the juggling act) I found myself searching for hummus.

Never in my life have I willingly purchased hummus. The Hub asked me what I was looking for and helped me look for it. All the more surreal as I thought not only am I looking for it but I'm having help looking for it. Of course I found it and as the busyness continued to buzz around me aisle to aisle I found myself daydreaming about what this purchase means for me.

You see, nothing wrong with hummus by itself. Healthy, right? I've not done any actual research but I can conclude that this is good for you. This educated guess come from how I even know what hummus is in the first place. My mama, and my green-world loving sister are both hummus consumers. Well, lots of people are, naturally. But, for me, rejecting the food choices and tree-hugging ways of hippies, both reformed and die-hard, has been my claim to fame. I'm a recycler, now...don't get me wrong. I can conserve with the best of them. But I have to be hip, modern and totally suburban with it. Growing up, and take trips now to visit my family have presented such options as trying a little hummus (Um. No.) or some tofu, perhaps. I'm just giving my family a hard time here; and I mean it all tongue-in-cheek. They are great people and it's been a source of constant fodder to tease them about their food ways. One of my many joys in life.

So, to be searching for hummus was kind of like, well, life-changing. What am I doing, I thought... Is it too late to turn back? I did give it a good, long contemplation but then I decided I would forge ahead. After all, I actually did want to eat it. Might The Hub have looked at me funny when I told him  what I was searching for? I think he did, but then, he has long-since resigned himself to know the inevitable: I am becoming my mother.

It happens to the best of us. Thank goodness she's a delightful soul and such a good person. When I am reminded that I am proceeding forward in ways similar to hers, I can take that with a smile. Usually. The hummus one caused me to pause for more than one second. I am going to eat hummus. Heck, I'm going to purchase hummus. What has happened to me? Am I selling out? Some group I think I am aligned to has lost my allegiance? For all my fretting, I didn't just buy that hummus I ate it. The whole container. And it was good. I found carrots and pretzel chips and more, oh my. It only took me 3 days. I'm not proud.

When Bball Chick came and asked what that was, and was it good, I began the evolution to the next generation. "Oh yes, it's good. Eat some." And she did. And she liked it. And so time goes on; I age; I find myself doing things my mother would do, and teaching my kids to do the same. It is truly a beautiful thing.

Fair Game

By no means would I want you to think that our family is biased when it comes to sports-watching. You know, we love a good game. Doesn't matter if a Copeland is playing or not. So how excited was I to find our neighbor-child's All-Star Championship Baseball game planted on the family calendar for Monday night. Despite the facebook posts from various parents of players, it hadn't really registered that this was coming. Facebook can be funny that way. You skim through the posts on your newsfeed and before you know, your eyes have glazed over.

Inspite of my lack of focus, there was the event posted at my nose, alright tip of my forehead, as I entered the fridge over the last few days. So last night, as The Hub got home from work, we all piled in the car and waited patiently (not so much) for him to change his clothes and grab his plate of dinner on his way out of the door. It wasn't until that exact moment that I receive the revelation that Mr. The Hub had no idea where this game was even being held. Alright, to be fair he had some idea. But not enough to drive straight to it. I could never function that way. But it certainly works for him. The game started at 6 and it now being 7:10pm we headed out to try to find the field.

After just one wrong turn we literally ran into the field. We arrive at the bottom of the 6th to find Chantilly in a 1-1 tie over Centreville. There's no outs and a run in wins the game. First batter comes up as we approach the fenceline to get a good viewing spot. Hits a nice grounder into the outfield and lands himself on 1st. Second batter: almost the same play. So here we are, man on first and second, and our third batter is up. After two strikes he's hitting his helmet in frustration. I can read the fellow's mind. He's gotta make this one. It's for the team. Oh, The Hub could barely contain himself. You see, baseball was his game as a kid. It's by far his favorite, and the sport that he still has faith will capture the heart of one of his children. So, there's that pitcher, standing some 9 feet tall, it appeared to me, threw that fastball in to our guy and he whacked it. As it flew past the outfielders mitt, the team went wild. In came the run and the bench unloaded onto the field in excitement.

Friends, all that happened in the course of the three minutes after our arrival. We were way-late, but right on time. Very exciting to see our neighbor, and other neighborhood friends, win their district championship. Maybe more exciting to see The Hub jumping for joy for a team he has absolutely no part of. For the team: they advance: to States!
You see, no matter to me if it's one of my kids playing or a neighbor-child, or shoot, even a random kid I don't know. We love to watch kids get excited over playing well and winning. What a celebration for them and how fun for us to see those last three minutes and see them end well. Youngest promptly resorted to his all-summer-long flipflop between football and baseball for his fall sport. Of course, after last night we are back to wanting to play baseball. Sigh, I'm pushing for football. Baseball can come in the spring, but mama's been waiting for way too long to be a football mom again.

Summer, Summer, Summertime...Summertime

Summertime will forever conjure up images of Will Smith's sweet "Summertime" tune. You know, "school is out and it's kind of a buzz." You know you want to finish the next line - "but back then I didn't really know what it was." Summertime just does something to our senses; wakes us up, perks our attitude a bit. We smile a bit brighter, we enjoy being outside, we become more engaged and active.

This summer we have the added joy of including basketball on our list of things to do. By some good fortune my sweet Bball Girl was invited to be part of a summer recreational league. Could there be any better thing for her? She wrapped up winter basketball and flew head-first into track for the spring and we were expecting a lull in the movement of her body for summer. Not so. Not so sure why I thought it would be so either. So far we haven't been swimmers, never done the swim team, although I promise if I was a stay at home mother I would be at that pool nearly every day. But here we are, enjoying the first few days of summer and also enjoying a summer basketball team.

Dare I call them the "Dream Team?" It sure does seem that all the players that gave Bball Girl a run for her money on the court in the winter season have come together to form one very talented team. Now, let me be clear, every dream team goes through a molding mess of a process where it might not be pretty - at first. Last night's premiere of this team of rising 5th graders, was just that way. Ugly. In fact, Ugggghhh leeeee. There was a lot of confused looks, arms flailing, bodies scraping and some not so pretty shots. A lot of missed shots and a lot of ref calls. Could have sworn we were at the WNBA finals. Bball Girl can put herself right at the top of that list of not-so-smooth starts. She did finish with 3 of the team's points. As the game went on they got more and more of a rhythm going. They won 27-2. Poor other team. 2 points and those were foul shots. Ouch. Last two minutes of the game I seriously wanted to shout out for one of our girls to make a basket for them. They could not get that lid off the rim of their basket and get that poor ball to drop in.

Bball Girl was in the zone, face serious and I must admit, doing her Michael Jordan tongue-extended, "I am serious" run down the court for a fast break layup. Too bad she missed the shot. Okay, she'll get the finishing part eventually. For now, it sure is fun to watch her make that steal and run her incredibly fast little legs down the court and man, when that tongue comes out we know she is so serious. She's like a little Jordan in Lebron's shoes.

The rest of the summer will include a soccer break from my other sweet girl, Soccer Chick. After a not so great All-Star tournament experience she was certainly ready for the break. She and Youngest will take the summer off. But veg-not! Day two of summer has resulted in the second day The Hub has toted them to work with him. Apparently there will be no slumber in the Copeland household this summer. Sounds about right.

Things I Have Learned From Track

Ten things I learned from the Copelands' 1st track season:

1. I don't have to know much of anything about running, but I can be a fantastic cheerleader from the sidelines
2. Bball Girl's stride is amazing. There is a lot of natural talent there. She's a runner.
3. 4 laps around the track really does equal 1 mile. Also known as the "1600m" for you runner types
4. I am white. As much as I don't want to, I will burn as I stand around for hours waiting for each meet to begin
5. There are a lot of kids in youth track. A lot of kids means even more parents. And more than that are the suffocating parents that meet their kids at the finish line to smother them with kisses and praise
6. The Hub really will make friends everywhere he goes
7. The Hub's friendships benefit me in the form of free food from the concession stand
8. Soccer Chick is a sweet sister. She will skip hanging with friends to attend her sibling's track meet
9. Oldest is a sweet brother. He will also take time to come to his sibling's track meet...when his girlfriend comes with him
10. Bball Girl really can run a mile in 6 minutes and 41 seconds. Probably about half the time it would take me to do the same.

As this track season comes to a close, I must admit I am so glad we did it. It was eye-opening and educational for us to enter into this world. The kids enjoyed it; certainly Bball much more than Youngest. Did he decide not to even participate in any meets during the last session? Yes, I think he did.

Coincidentally, in my quest to shed the baby weight added from my now 12 year old, The Hub and I decided we would start training to run a 5k. Never having run before, this was truly a new venture for me. I've launched my participation in the Couch to 5k program and I strongly recommend it to anyone who is really ready to make a change, and is not sure what or how. I've lost 8 pounds so far and since I didn't make the 5 foot cutoff, that 8 pounds is a pretty big deal. I'll be running in my first ever race on June 23rd. Beyond excited!

Now our family moves to the close of the soccer season. Soccer Chick finished up her spring season with her team taking 2nd place in her league's U12 Girls finals. Soccer Chick scored her first goal of the season in one of the playoff games. This season she has spent most of her time playing Center Defense. While I like her at defense (she's tough, she's fast and aggressive), I miss those goals. Seeing her make a goal at the playoff game included a run from the edge of her own goalie box to inside the opposing team's 18 yard line.

Please take notice that as my children progress, so does my lingo. On to soccer all-star team practice for the tournament this weekend, and basketball practice for the summer league. Never a dull moment in the Copeland house. Never.

Run Child, Run...

What joy to watch my children's spring sports season commence this past weekend. Might I be described as "giddy" at the first soccer game? Perhaps. But only by some envious parent who wishes they could have as difficult of a time containing their excitement. I love watching my kiddos in action. After all, I'm in the running (against The Hub) for being their biggest fan.

Saturday's first soccer game was action-packed. Hence, the giddiness-err, I mean-appropriate sideline encouragement. Soccer Chick had some great plays including bulldozing two girls who came straight for her and thought they would easily stick a foot in and interrupt her dribble. I was fortunate enough to be filming this particular play-action and when we got home and watched the playback it was decidely ESPN worthy. Girlfriend was dribbling and literally did plow into girl one, two seconds later girl two met the same fate and she dribbled on.

After sitting idle since the fall season ended in November, she and her team have some rusty spots to work through. They are making a little noise about their coach this season, since he's returned from last season and left the quiet, nice guy behind. Most of our parental-sideline chatter involved remarks about how this guy was no longer playing around with these girls. We love it. The kids are being whipped right into shape. First game of the season they took home a stellar 6-0 win. And it was very entertaining to be in the cheer section with so many of our regular soccer-friends, parents of girls that have played together for countless seasons.

Sunday afternoon found us enjoying a lovely church worship service and off to lunch with some friends. We then quickly shuttled ourselves from that to the track at the high school. In all my giddiness (I reluctantly own the title) I had us there early. I could have promised the email said 3pm start time. With the sun blaring and not a drop of shade around, we sat high in the bleachers awaiting an actual 3:30 start to the first track meet of the season. Each track session starts with a warm-up lap around the track. Youngest never fails to leave his group behind and can be seen passing kids way older than him as he tirelessly completes the lap. His track meet included the 50m and 100m. Bball Girl, being slightly older, did the 100m and 200m. Bball Girl received her first ever ribbon for track for smokin' those poor girls in the 100m. I captured a photo of her extremely tired self holding her ribbon with pride. And she doesn't even know what she's doing yet. She's got speed for sure. Watching them both run it seems she might be an excellent sprinter and Youngest seems to be better at long distance.

I was fortunate enough to capture some footage, although a little jumpy. The sun was directly in my eyes and it was a little hard to zoom in and out as they moved quickly. But, don't count this old girl out. Next week I'm ready with a cap to block the sun, proper positioning for excellent filming, and hoping for lots to cheer about. Let's go Chantilly Youth Association sports! I promise you I have a lot of other things going on in my life. This stuff is just fun to write about.

Closed Court, Open Track

With much sadness, Bball Girl closed the door on her winter basketball season. They did not do well in the 2-game all stars series, but I digress. At the final buzzer, that sweet little thing had huge alligator tears in her eyes. Silly me, thinking it was because they lost their 2nd and final game of the season. Oh no, she informed me. "I don't want basketball to end," she practically wailed. The heart of a true athlete. I say athlete, not basketball lover, because honestly, it could be anything. She does love basketball, but really, any sport, any competition, she's all in.

What does her sweet mother do to comfort such a sad moment? "Oh, honey, it's okay...track starts tomorrow!" No better remedy than to put the past behind you and move on to what's next. Okay, so that is not always the best advice, but for a 9-year old, it's all about the transition.

Funny thing, Youngest went to school and in his normal, efficient manner, managed to tell his kindergarten teacher that his sister was starting track. "Why, you should do it too," says the teacher. So what did I come home to? Chronic pleas, of "me too!" Incessant, actually. My comeback was that we had missed the deadline. It's too late to register this year, I told him. Saturday night when I see an email in my inbox from the track program director, inviting Youngest to come out and try track the next day, I would have like to have been beyond shocked. Couldn't actually be shocked because his teacher is married to that said track program director. Clearly they talk. Still, very nice of him to extend an invitation to the little guy to come on out as well.

And that is the story of how Youngest came to be a track star. Just kidding. Out we went on Sunday afternoon to a beautiful, warm spring day on the high school track. Can you say "kids everywhere?" Massive amounts of track superstars, from the youngest 4 year old to high schoolers - and their mamas. A few daddies, too. Somehow we found the right group for Youngest and Bball Girl (am I really going to call her Bball Girl all spring season?). As I start to walk away, Bball Girl gives me that look of panic, "Don't. Leave. Me." Ahh, you'll be fine, I tell her as I step away a bit. Those nerves of trying something brand new, and even a muttered "I don't want to do this," could have been seen and heard.

Sure enough, as soon as they started warming up, with a lap or two around the track, she was in the zone. Did someone say do something athletic? That's all she needed to hear. The teams rotated stations and girlfriend did it all with ease and poise. She's gonna like this. Youngest's group was a bit more scattered, and sometimes downright painful to watch. Five and six year olds with a few parents who felt they needed to do the drills with them. Odd. Soccer Chick and I had a great time sitting in reflection on the sidelines. Best moment might be during the long jump when Isaac completed his jump and ran to get back in the line. He was so busy talking to us, he didn't notice the first, second or third time when a kid butt him. "Watch what's going on, buddy. Scoot up," I tell him. With the most comedic facial expressions he can muster up, he waits until the kid turns his shoulder and squeezes himself up to where he was supposed to be. As soon as the boy turns around, Youngest looks away as if he is staring at the birds. Soccer Chick and I could not stop laughting. Way to be smooth.

All in all, a great start to what should be something both of those superstars really enjoy. Soccer Chick? Don't you worry about her, she's getting ready. Season kicks off on Thursday.

Pre-March Madness...

Round 1 of 4th grade basketball playoffs found me on the sideline with a grin on my face for most of the game. The Hub was super excited about the very productive practice that was held the night before. He was all jazzed up, feeling good, sure that his 8th ranked team would take home a win against the 9th ranked opponent. So there I was on the side, grinning for most of the game. Amazingly the scoreboard was a simple 9-3 at the half, and The Hub's girls were winning. The score remained surprisingly low, since both teams just couldn't seem to get their shots off.

The girls are smiling, big cheesy smiles with each good play they executed. There The Hub was from the bench saying "good job. Now wipe the smile off your face and get back to work!" As we wrapped up the 3rd period we still had the lead with a nice 11-3 sitting on the board. My sweet Bball Girl took her 4th personal foul way too easily. Despite her dad's screams from the side to back up and just let the opponent make the layup, BBall Girl wasn't having it. There she was charging in, and slam! Catching the foul. Now at the risk of fouling out for the game, we are in the 4th period and The Hub calls a time out. From the opposite of the gym I could see The Hub telling her "stay away from that girl. DO NOT foul out of this game!" Bball Chick shook her head yes. She's got the game plan under control.

We start the 4th quarter and our defense lets the other team catch up. The score is 11-9 and what do you think happens? Bball Chick fouls out. It could have happened in slow motion; we all saw it coming. There she was racing down the court towards the girl with the ball - not her man to defend, mind you - and sure enough charged right at her. The ball was NOT going to go anywhere near the net apparently. So there you go, Bball Girl has fouled out of her first game. Not what the team needed with 40 seconds on the clock and a one basket game. Gulp. Needless to say the grin on my face has turned into more of a stricken look. I'm starting to feel sick and my blood pressure is begging me to just go sit in the car.

The opposing team scores a way-too-easy basket and the score is tied. Overtime it is. Bball Girl is still on the sidelines, looking quite distraught I might add. Two minutes of overtime and we score in the first 30 seconds. Thank goodness. Now if we can just keep them still. Not to be. They answer with a bucket of their own and we are at 13-13. My goodness. I really can't take this kind of pressure. We get all the way down to 6 seconds on the clock and one of our players makes a jumper from way too far away. She misses. They get the ball, dribble down, there's a pass to a chick right under the basket. She shoots, she misses and she shoots again. At the buzzer she scores the game winning basket to end it 13-15. Unbelievable.

I can't wrap up this update without giving a shout out to Black #4. Last year she and Bball Girl were on the same team and they were a dynamic force. She's tall and stocky and plays tough. She would be the girl with the ball that little old Bball Girl was trying to knock off, only to find herself fouled out of the game. When these two get to high school basketball they will be a force to be reckoned with.

But here we are at the buzzer, poor Bball Girl was devastated. I quickly rallied around her to remind her it's just one season of basketball and there will be many more. And, good news (I hope) is the losing team plays again on Saturday against whoever loses the late game playing after us. The look on her face was priceless. "Really mom? I should be happy about that? Loser plays loser. Wow..." I decided to let her have her moment of supreme sadness. I was in shock myself. And The Hub? Well, I knew we were going to have a hard time putting this one to bed. He didn't sleep at all last night, tossed and turned, amidst nightmares of bad passes, missed jumpers and wild layups. This morning again we had to relive the play-by-play of his frustrations and what went wrong. He finally wrapped it up by saying his health couldn't take all this roller coaster riding. "That's it for me," he says, "no more coaching." Yea right. Youngest starts football in August.

That's A Wrap...

Perhaps you have noticed I haven't blogged much about this winter season of basketball for my darling Bball Chick and my delightful The Hub. It's been an adventurous season, at times even difficult to watch the games. Through closed fingers, clenched teeth and frustrated eyeballs, I peered at the games, Saturday after Saturday, flinching and ever-hopeful that the girls would pull out a win. At this age, the proper thing to do is say they are learning, and that it is all about having fun, and they grow with age. I can say all that, but I would also have to say that I'm certain my blood pressure skyrockets with each game. I'm also certain I have reached the unwanted status of "that parent." You know, the one who sits on the side, cheering very loudly, expressing her "expert" opinion to the team as they play, and most delightfully, challenges the refs on their calls. I know, I'm not proud. To make matters worse, I've never played basketball. Yet, I don't really seem to care.

This has been a tough season. The last regular game was played on Saturday, giving this team a 2-9 record. Yup, this was a rough one. We started out so well; I was so sure this was going to be a dynamic season. Turns out, not so much. My poor Bball Girl spent most of her games in tears. Tears, I tell ya. Her mother's defense of her says the girl plays with tremendous heart. She's aggressive on defensive, fast as lightning and a powerful point guard. Problem is, when they are losing, sometimes losing badly, that ole' girl doesn't take it so well.

Our lowlight of the season would have to be the game where the team was losing pretty badly in the 3rd period. As the ref blows the whistle for some random call, The Hub offers some constructive coaching from the sidelines. That's his job, right? As she takes it upon herself to argue (ARGUE!) back with her coach-dad from the middle of the court, he tells her to get it together or she will sit out the final period. Yes, friends. All of this happened as the gym was silent. Oh, goodness. Could I just shrink into disappearance from embarrassment? The worst of it would have to be Bball Girl's final remark: "Just take me out now, then!" Oh, wow. I thought I was embarrassed before, now I want to yank the girl myself. Utterly embarrassing. Thankfully those parents had the good graces to wait to talk about us until they got in their cars after the game was over. Somehow I forgot to thank them for that. The Hub called a time out and tried to regroup. Let's just say that was not a fun ride home. 4th grade house league basketball rules prevent a coach from pulling a player during a period for any reason other than injury. Although I am sure The Hub could think of some injuries he might like to cause (kidding!), she had no injury. An injury to her common sense and home training, perhaps.

You know that I spent the next week preaching to her about good sportsmanship, and mostly declaring to her she has got to get her emotional game together. The poor girl was in tears in the 2nd half of almost every game. I get her frustration, myself feeling the same from the sidelines. She was the team's lead shooter and is a good basketball player. Her team, as a whole, really, just not so great. That interprets to her running down opposing players, sometimes bulldozing them, in an effort to stop the run. Oh, boy. Soccer Chick and I would sit on the sidelines shaking our head. I, personally, would not want to face that against me on the court. Her face gets so serious, and she looks downright mean. Scary, in fact. About that time, I would slowly raise my hand to cover my face. I don't even want to see what's coming. She charges directly for a player, and if the team is losing badly, and she's frustrated enough, she didn't even care if she took a flagrant foul or if the player wasn't even hers to cover. Oh, sigh. She'll be a beast when she gets to high school ball. But for those little 4th grade girls she was their nightmare.

Thankfully, this final game this past weekend Bball Girl kept her stuff together. I couldn't tell her enough how proud I was. Perhaps I was just happy my prayers of "please do not let her embarrass me with those tears flying all over the place...AGAIN..." was what was answered. What I was thinking was let's please not give these parents another occasion to wonder if all the girls does is cry. Bless, that girl, she is such a kind soul. She is emotional; she's in-touch with her emotions. She feels things strongly and it shows. She didn't handle losing too well. Tomorrow night, this same team faces round 1 of the playoffs. Will they win? It's likely. They are ranked 8th out of 10 teams, and are facing the 9th ranked team. If they win...well, then they face the 1st ranked team on Saturday. I'm shaking my head, already. Ya'll pray for me.

The most exciting news would be that for the spring season she has decided to run track. I'm so excited for this! She's super fast. She gets that from her mama. Although the people in my life don't believe that, knowing me now, I desperately try to convince them that I was super-fast in my youth. I didn't use it, so I got to lose it. But once upon a time, a long 30-something years ago, this gal could run...and she could dance, and... I keep trying to convince my family of these many spectacular talents I possessed, and how I have delightfully passed them on to my incredibly athletic and talented children, and I just don't get why they insist on doubting me so!

Fear The Clip...It's A Shocker...

Everyone who knows Youngest knows he is an explorer. He's got that same confidence, boldness and exploring nature like I told you about in my previous blog. Like his daddy, he's not afraid to try new things and take big risks. Problem is the boy is 6. It's his parents job to make sure that he is kept safe and that little engineering mind of his that wants to try new inventions and create fun projects is moving in a way that doesn't bring him, his family or our home any harm.

If this is the goal of his parents, we might have failed last night. I am shaking my head at this boy. Following an evening of bible study with our church's small group this little fella went upstairs to get in his pajamas and his task was to brush his teeth. A few minutes later the last of our friends departs the house and I head up to check on things. I find Youngest on his bed sobbing uncontrollably. With two big sisters to contend with, this is not at all unusual, so no red flag here. I asked him what was wrong and he told me he didn't want to tell me because he knew I would be mad. Okay, now the red flag is flying. A little afraid to continue this conversation, I encouraged him to tell me what's up. Between sobs and humongous tears he tells me that he had something that he got from school that he took into the bathroom and stuck it in the "place where tvs go." Um. What? Eventually I figured out he was talking about the electric socket. Gulp. When the "fireworks" shot out at him it scared the child out of his little 6 year old mind and he ran for cover. At this point between the sobs he is telling me that he loves this house and he doesn't want to do anything to ruin it.

Oh, youngest. I take him squarely by the shoulders and make him show me what he used. He painfully hands me the metal part of a binder clip, with the plastic clip removed. The ends are seared from the electric shock. Okay, first of all. Where did he get this from? If I had to guess I would say he pocketed the binder clip and disposed of the clip. I've seen the boy work over a paperclip. Pretty much anything that can be used as part of an on-going project or can be reshaped and turned into something else is fair game with this guy. He's a smart cookie. As the responsible parent I am, I lectured him very sternly and with my most serious voice about he could have seriously hurt himself. He could have done serious damage to our house. More out of control sobbing ensued as his little body shook, racked with guilt and pleas of "I LOVE this house mommy." Talk about a wake up call. This little explorer got not only a science lesson but a serious shaking in his pajama pants.

I'm confident that between his dad and I lighting into him over this one, and the scare that those sparks gave him, he has learned his lesson. As we hustled him into bed he wanted to show me his foot where one of the sparks "almost hit his toe." Okay, that didn't happen, but in his dramatic way of expressing things he was confident that he was going to die. In the 14 years that Oldest has lived in my home I have never had to contend with his dangerous explorations. The worst he had was a broken ankle from a sledding injury. Remind me to fuss at him, his soft-spoken, sweet -boy nature in no way prepared me for Youngest's antics.

Finally, I got that guy settled down and in the bed. He insisted on whimpering uncontrollably. I'm convinced the majority of this was for my benefit. He is just that smart. He would want to make sure mama thought he was thoroughly remorseful. In his most pitiful voice, as I departed from his room, he says: "oh, mom. I really wish Oldest were home from college right now. If he were here he would help me get through this." This, thankfully, was a good result to an obviously needed lesson. Life is just that way. There are many times we do something really, really stupid and the result scares the pants off of us. Sometimes we need that huge scare to simmer us down and slow our roll. Youngest got just that lesson, and sometimes we need that too. God will allow us to keep on going, pushing the limit and testing our fate for damaging results. Then He will allow something to happen that reminds us there are some things that we just don't do.

Thank goodness that Youngest is safe and sound. Thank goodness that God was watching over him, the same as He watches over us. Since my little guy might have suffered a setback but is likely not anywhere near finished his explorations and risk taking in life, I'm going to be praying even harder that God's eyes would be on him even more. And if any of ya'll see him, you watch him too. He's too smart for his own good.

Service Road Of Life...

Ya'll know about those service roads out here on the streets, don't ya? They are all over our NOVA roads. I would think they are part of a conspiracy by some upper group, trying to keep us at the top of the America's Craziest Traffic list, but I've seen these roads in other parts of the country as well. Some clever engineer thought this would ease up traffic for those main streamers just trying to get to where they are trying to get to and not needing to slow down for the turning folks. That's the idea, right?

Not so for The Hub. I'm gonna call him a natural rule breaker. From his youngin' years I know this fella has had a thing for causing some dust to stir. Driving in a car is no exception. Often, at get-off-from-work time I travel a road that is a long stretch of inching along, stoplight to stoplight, and very little acceleration. I've come to accept that this 16 miles from office to my door will take me an hour to an hour and a half. Welcome to NOVA life.

Yesterday, The Hub happened to pick me up at said job of mine. As soon as we hit our long stretch, he veered right and hit the service road. Much to my horror. What kind of person does such a thing? He knows full well that he won't be turning right for at least 10 miles. So he's really going to float all the way down this service road, as far as his pretty little heart can go, whizzing past all these cars on our left at a standstill? Yup, that's exactly what he intended to do.

He and I had quite the chuckle as he approached each stop sign on our service road travels and debated, with his mind, and for a few seconds with the steering wheel, as to whether to dive back into traffic or risk it and go a couple of blocks more. You should know that the man has no idea where the service road ends exactly. And wouldn't that be something, to go through all that to beat traffic, only to get stuck somewhere and have to backtrack.

As I sat in the seat quite amused, and horrified at the same time, he remarked to me that he knew this was something I would never do. Of course not, I told him. I would be in that traffic line like everyone else. Because that's the right thing to do. How do we define right? Well, if I know I'm not turning right I'm not coasting down the service road, pretending I'll eventually be turning right, just to skip all that traffic. I am not a sacrifice everyone else to get ahead kind of girl. The Hub, on the other hand, didn't even hesitate. No way he was sitting in that long line, he said. We spent the next 15 minutes flying past all these stand-stillers as we laughed until we had tears in our eyes.

We get further up ahead and he dips into the mainstream world again. He remarks at how traffic is so light up here. "Oh," he says "we left all the traffic back there." Funny guy. I must confess we got home at least 15 minutes earlier than I normally would have on this route. I thought of our adventure and how it really compares to how we approach life. We drive the way we live. For him, he is a risk taker. He's going to find an easier, better, and sometimes quicker way to achieve a goal. If it means he passes those that refuse to look to the right, then he'll do it. Because it just makes sense to keep it moving. Me? Well, shoot. I'll just sit in the traffic, stuck in the thought that it isn't fair to those other people if I pass them. They are waiting too, you know? It's the compassion in me. They gotta wait so I should wait too, right? And besides, we are supposed to be on the main road. We go on the service road if we're turning and I'm not turning.

Which one is better? All the time, neither is better. I don't condone or judge either one. Oh, don't be mistaken, I was judging all over him as I rolled my eyes and shook my head, laughing all the way. But that's because he's The Hub. I get to give him a hard time like I get a paycheck for doing it. The truth is our personalities guide our decisions. Some of us are going to get out there and do it. Some of us are going to wait until the road opens up in front of us. Either way, drive safe.

Here's The "Skinny" Of It...

So, here's the lowdown on the Zumba saga. Last night I vowed again to try to find this local class and get my Zumba on. Since the previously advertised location was a sudden no-go, this week another location was the place to be. I ventured over to this darkened parking lot, straining my pretty little eyes to try to see the name of the carpet store where this would be held.

I pulled into the extremely dark parking lot to find scattered cars, no people and little light. Picture me hunched over the steering wheel, creeping at about 2 miles an hour, squinting and confused. Somehow I found the store and immediately put on my super-sketchy investigative sensory glasses. A darkened store with some person standing at the inside. Um. I thought to myself, this could be a set up. Some creepy person would surely pay the cost of putting a little ad in the paper saying they do Zumba. "Come on over, you dumb girl, to this darkened store, for some Zumba!" Yikes!

Call me dumb, or call me brave, there I was in the dark. For 3 or 4 seconds I sat in the car wondering if I should really get out. Get out I did, and sauntered up to the darkened door, where now no person was standing. Where did that shadow of a person go? What in the world was I thinking? By the time I got to the door, the lady came back. Turns out she was looking for people who might be trying to find the Zumba spot.

I came in, got acquainted and thankfully my good friend Shay-Shay came along. We positioned ourselves at the back of the back. Like as far back as a girl can stand. Our Zumba instructor, in all her fitness, muscled, toned glory led a great class. This old gal, who has temporarily misplaced her rhythm, was there at the back trying desperately to keep up. It was hard to see her as a more than skinny chick was in front of me. From what I was able to see, I kept up and sweated along. We jammed to wow, I don't know, way too many songs and I went from freezing in a warehouse to sweating my little salsa-ing tail off.

Moral of this story is: Zumba was super-fun, great workout and well worth the risk of being killed by a serial killer in a dark parking lot. Are you local and want to try? Check out Kelly's class at www.gozumbafun.com. I don't advise any of you follow these silly footsteps and go someplace shady, but I do advise that you feel free to take some risks and try something new. I thought I wouldn't be able to walk today. I am more out of shape than some of the ladies in the class that were 2 or more times my size. Goes to show you, use it or lose it. My shape has definitely been lost. Nevertheless, this girl is going to have some hip-shaking fun trying to find it. I'll be back there on that warehouse floor next Monday.

Epic Fail

Yesterday I confessed to you how I worked up the nerve to branch out and try Zumba. Giving you just a glimpse of how much coaxing this took for me internally, I can only tell you it was a way bigger deal than you can imagine. About 30 minutes before it was time to go I was nervous! Nervous! Over a dance class...

Sad, I know. Thing is, I am not a "try new things" kind of gal. I should be. We should all be. I told The Hub, as he gazed at me in utter amazement, just as easy as it is for him to go anywhere with boldness and confidence, it is equally easy for others to snuggle in the comforts of shy-hood. So what if he can talk to the grocery store lady about football and the gas station attendant about not having seen him in awhile. As if they are friends. I, on the other hand, prefer to reside in invisible land. And that friends, is where I live. Comfortably.

A life of comfort and security is not necessarily what God always wants for us...so I preached to myself, anyway. I worked up that one tiny nerve to try this new thing and found myself fidgeting with nervousness, flipping through a cookbook of all things. The Hub knew right away I was juggling nervous energy. Incredulously, he wondered how that could be possible. It just is. I dragged myself right on out of the house and went to find this place.

Jeez. New people...dancing...music...did I mention new people? Ugh. Not my favorite thing to do. But I wanted to find an ounce of boldness and go try this new thing. After driving around in the dark, I finally found the location. Doors locked, lights off. Huh? No one was there. Good thing I brought the newspaper ad with me. I re-read to confirm I didn't miss some very important detail. Sure enough, the class should have been there at that exact time. No one was around.

When I returned home and explained to The Hub what happened, he kidded me, "how was that drive to the elementary school?" As if! His implication being I was never going to a dance class in the first place. As if I would fake something like that! Well, I am capable of some eventful moves, but this time I really, legitimately jumped off the deep end into new waters. And wouldn't that be just the outcome: no one was home.

I've emailed the instructor and hopefully can figure out what happened here. I got myself all worked up and convinced to try this, so goodness me, it better pan out. Meantime, my nighttime adventures last night turned out to be an epic fail. Life sure does seem to go that way sometimes. We spend all this energy on being anxious and nervous and often it turns out to be literally nothing. The most important thing is that I'm ready to keep pursuing it and won't be discouraged by driving around in the dark (NOT at an elementary school, thank you very much), and not getting the outcome I hoped for. Perhaps next time there won't be nervous-cookbook-page-flipping behavior in anticipation. Perhaps next time I can be a little more normal. Don't you normal people get your hopes up

Zumba, If I Please

I'm calling it fate that I just so happened to run across this tiny, tiny little ad for a zumba class. It caught my eye because it said the class was located in Chantilly. Great, I thought, near to me. It also held my attention because it wasn't at a gym. Excellent, I thought, no membership fees. Apparently this god-send of a Zumba instructor rents a room from a preschool on Mondays and Wednesday evenings to get her Zumba on. Say what? I'm SO in there.

Now, I do have a long-standing Wednesday evening commitment. Bible study can't be cancelled, skipped or rescheduled. Can you imagine? "Where's the pastor's wife?" Oh. She's at Zumba class. Nah, Wednesdays are out. But I am so looking forward to Monday. That's today!

I did what any brave girl would do. I texted a bunch of my friends and rallied them into coming along. What is it about human nature that makes some of us bold to the ends of the earth and some of us need a crowd of support to take one step forward? That would be me. I have no less than 4 friends who gave me the "sure, I'll do it!" I'm so proud of them. They are so brave!

Tonight we will venture over to this location and check out Miss Zumba-Girl. Some of my friends think they will literally die. Others are excited about the fun opportunity for weight loss. I just like to dance and in my old age have seemed to have misplaced my rhythm. If I had it once I know I can find it again. It's buried beneath layers of...well, something. All the time I conjure up images of little old me in middle school, jamming to some popular tune, at the school talent show and hearing my rhythm-full friends remark at how that "little white girl" danced her butt off. Believe it. True story. Not shaded by memory glaze. But, alas, over the years my mind and my body and especially my feet have settled. Not quite as agile as I used to be and a far scream from a "dancer," I decided this Zumba thing will be a good move.

You know that I will keep you posted. That's if I personally don't die from this one class.

Just A Dreamer, Baby

I know I've heard and learned countless times - DON'T eat right before you go to sleep. There's all sorts of hip-hugging reasons to follow that rule. There is also the idea that you tend to dream more when you stuff your face before you snooze. Or maybe it's that you tend to dream crazy stuff when you dine after nine.

All I can tell you my friends, is for me the food isn't the problem, but the crazy dreams are way up there in la-la land. In the last week I've had two crazy dreams that just for chuckles I thought I would share with you. My close friends and family can tell you I am an eccentric soul. I'm a bit different, and I'm okay with sharing that. In my past I've had recurring dreams about my teeth literally being pulled out of my gums because of - wait for it - chewing gum. For years, I've avoided chewing gum at all. Who wants to dream that they are literally stuffing their teeth back in? Ugh. And a big ole' sigh...

I am happy to say I haven't had that dream in years so I've matured a bit, perhaps. I thought I was weird dream free until last week when I had a very vivid dream about being Mariah Carey's best friend

(I already said I'm odd!) and that her hubby left her with her two precious babies for 100 days. Anything significant about 100? I helped Mariah work through her trauma of being alone suddenly, and having twins to care for, and her disappointment in her boo. I was her BFF, I think? (don't worry, I'm laughing too). The end of the dream was Nick returning to her after exactly 100 days and thinking everything was everything. Poor Mariah was so upset and there I was to console her like it was my job. Such an odd soul, am I.

Moving on to my second dream, I'm in New York City with Alicia Keys.

Yes, friends, you can laugh out loud. Alicia jumps on the subway and goes wherever she is going and I leave my own family standing in the dust as I try to chase her. They were with me but they couldn't keep up. So I left them. Left them. I tried to jump subway trains and get to where she was going and always seemed to be a step behind. Suddenly Alicia jumps on a super fast racing motorcycle and zooms away. Don't ask how I caught up to her. Can she actually drive a motorcycle? Did I? Craziness. When I caught up to her, breathless, and relieved to finally catch her, she chuckles and tells me that was all part of a scene in a movie she's filming. Oh, well thank goodness for that. I wouldn't have wanted to chase her for nothing.

Having given you my disclaimer about my eccentricity, I must say neither of these celebrities are my personal friends. I couldn't even do one of those "All things lead to Kevin Bacon" kind of diagrams (google it) to try to remotely know anyone who knows anyone that's been in the same air space as Alicia or Mariah. That said, I hadn't seen these ladies on TV or thought about them directly and I have these two extremely random dreams. And no, I hadn't eaten before bed.

What's to blame for this wild life I live in my dreams? I highly doubt I am about to become a member of the celebrity scene, so I'm left with thinking that these old brains of ours are strange things indeed. I know I'm a bit funnier than most when it comes to having strange behavior. I mean, I guess that's true. Or not. Don't all 30-somethings break out in outdated dancing at random household moments when there is no music other than the jams going on in the head alone? Yea, I think that's pretty normal.

Colonial Whoas

Oh friends, how in the world has it been since December 22 that I have blogged to you? Forgive me for my temporary absence. Christmas and New Years bring a whirlwind of activities, events, family, relaxing time. You know how that goes... Glad to be back! And boy do we need to catch up. Today I'm pressed to blog to you about Colonial Day. Have you an elementary school child, about 4th grade age who has perhaps survived this? So far in the Copeland house we have survived two Colonial Day experiences. Neither of those compares to my Bball Girl's preparation for her Colonial Day today.

Let me explain: Colonial Day is a 4th grade adventure where all the children get to come to school dressed up in Colonial times clothing and throughout the school day they get to experience activities, games and events that give them the hands-on Colonial times experience. Sounds absolutely thrilling, no?

As I said, Oldest and Soccer Chick both encountered this event and they manned-up, kept a stiff upper lip and basically, to be plain, sucked it up. Not so for my sweet Bball Girl. I must confess that it is 100% completely true that as you go along in parenthood you get more and more lax on things. Now that we are on the 3rd child, I put in about zero effort in preparing an outfit or a lunch satchel (A satchel? Seriously?). So I'll take credit that the poor girl didn't have a mama that prepared her properly.

So this morning we found ourselves searching through the closet. In the way back of my own closet I found a black, long skirt that I held on to for Soccer Chick. An item she swore she would never want. But to earn some mom-points here let me say I kept it because I knew eventually she would have a concert or something where this item was needed. And what do you know...today we put that bad boy to use.

There's my girl in a beautiful floor length skirt, safety-pinned no less than three times on her tiny little waist and a fluffy blouse that her darling big sister had for the occasion. I promise you she was looking seriously Colonial. For the shoes I told her to throw on her Chuck Taylor Converse and call it a day. Her father, much more grounded than I, said no. Put on the church shoes. Off this child went to the kitchen with her very Colonial-looking self. Shortly after breakfast she came to me with the biggest, most round tears I have ever seen. She was miserable! Have you met her? A skirt is a leap for her. Colonial Day clothing was torture. I gave her the speech about how some things in life we really don't want to do but we just have to do them, and do them with the best attitude we can. I added on there that no one likes Colonial Day (I already confessed The Hub was the more grounded one) and that everyone would be miserable in those clothes today. Did I think I was helping? But, the bottom line was this was going to be fine. I even let her pack a change of clothes that she probably won't be able to change into just before school is over. But, hey, the point is those clothes are in there. She knows her rescue plan isn't too far away.

I felt so bad for the girl this morning. It didn't help that her seriously-silly father trotted around the house in his pajamas doing his version of some Colonial dancing. To say this wasn't helping doesn't quite describe how Bball Girl was feeling. While the other two might have pouted a bit on their turn for such fun, this was actually painful for her. Isn't life just like that? There are just some things that we absolutely do not want to do. The thought of it brings us actual pain, might even make our skin crawl. Yet, there are those things that there is no way around, can't be avoided and we must tackle head on. What approach do we have? Do we let those huge tears roll? I don't see anything wrong with that. Sometimes you just gotta cry just a bit. But then, we force ourselves to get through it. And if you're in 4th grade, your mama forces you. Still...super powerful life lesson there.

As I pull up at the school to drop off the kids, the other two bounced out of the car with their normal kindergarten and 6th grade joy. You know I am lying about some 6th grade joy. There is no such thing. But poor Bball Girl looks directly at me and says "mom, can you just shoot me now?" Friends, a little drama never hurt anybody.