Again with the sad face, America?

Like all of us, I mourn with the folks of Boston, the participants and spectators, family and loved ones of anyone remotely connected to the Marathon yesterday. Friends, I'm so tired. Aren't you tired? I feel like here we are again with another sad face as a country. Again and again the loss of life is senseless. We don't even know who is behind this attack yet, and it doesn't even matter to me. It's heartbreaking...

Will we get to the point where we are living in constant fear of our normal routines? Will we become so adjusted to tragedy that it becomes a way of life. If I ever stop shedding tears for those suffering tragedy I will know I've adjusted. I hope I never adjust. Last night, many hours after learning the news of the Boston Marathon bombings I finally sat down to focus on the news coverage. Courtesy of the news networks I received a front row view of exactly what happened. My 13 year old had already done her own research and was blown away that something so awful could happen to people just trying to do something they love. Simply heartbreaking. I shed my tears. My heart aches for those affected by this. Another sad face for America. I am so tired of frowning.

Then I went to Facebook. Lots of folks lifting up prayers to those affected. Following every cry of injustice, those posts go round and round. I wish people were praying when things were good. If we as a people consistently sought God we would know that prayer changes things; that lives are changed, protected, shielded by the Great One, just because of our prayers. But, for the most part, we don't. We get wrapped up in our own lives and we forget to put God first. Until tragedy strikes. What would happen if we reversed the pattern? What if we consistently prayed and sought God and when tragedy got ready to hit we were so prayed up, so juiced up on God we saw the miraculous pieced together? We would see God move mountains.

The one thing I took away from social media's coverage last night was the repeated quote by Mr. Rogers. Man, who didn't love Mr. Rogers when they were young? I mean, the man took the time to change his shoes, while giving us good advice, and singing us a song. A gentleman. His quote said his mom taught him to look for the helpers in any tragedy. Focus on that. Man, that's good stuff. The good in folks springs right into action when the situation calls for it. Always. Every story has a hero. Many heros. I pray for that. I pray that should tragedy find us unexpectedly the good in people will take over the fear. Thank God for that yesterday.

I don't want to live imprisoned by fear. I don't want my kids to grow up thinking fear is their neighbor, their friend or their constant companion. Yet over and over again America is saddened by the loss of life because of an individual or a group. We want to get to the source so we can answer the "why." But when it's answered, what do we do about it? Do we change laws? Do we revamp our entire mental health system? Often we don't. As a country we are broken. Our government can't agree on much of anything, our financial state is a mess. There is so much division an disunity it's sickening. We attack each other for sport leaving lots of open holes for the enemy to creep in and rip the hole into a deep, infected gash. Then the next tragedy hits and we are left saddened again. It's time to stop frowning, America. It's time to take action in the good times. It's time to be proactive instead of reactive. When nothing's happening something should be happening. We shouldn't be making plans to deal with the next tragedy or massive episode of fear. Waiting for it to happen. We don't think our individual selves can make a difference, but we can. Each one of us has the power to change our hearts, to be more loving, to seek God more, to not be hostile or confrontational. It's heavy on my heart this morning, I'm sure yours too. America is sad again. I'm so tired of being sad.

Call Me 'Coach?!?'

The thing about metaphors, common sayings and phrases is not only the visual picture they give you that helps you understand what the speaker is saying, but the resonant truth to the saying is what really gets you. So when I say I "bit the bullet" I mean I can taste the cold steel in my mouth. Figuratively, of course. But it sure feels real. I can taste the bullet I have bitten and let me tell you, it tastes bad. Or uncomfortable, is probably a better way to describe the emotional roller coaster I have set myself upon.

I would say I've done a great job stalling on stepping up to the plate to actually coach one of my kids in their beloved sports. In my defense, from my comfortable perspective I have hardly viewed it as a stall tactic. Well, it's time to admit to you. That which was a reluctant option has now become a decided on choice. I've been flung over to the other side. Like "whole body, pitched into icy water" flung over. Not sounding so much like "decided on" huh? You know how it is. This back and forth in your mind between what you don't want to do, what you feel like doing and what you know you should do. Now that I'm doggy paddling out here in this little old lake that I've been thrown in, I see this whole coaching thing completely different. The Hub tells me it really isn't even a lake. More like a kiddy pool. Yet here I am, arms flailing, feet splashing and gulping for air. In a kiddy pool. You don't have to tell me to get a grip. The Hub, and my sweet children have already had their chuckles at my expense, and have encouraged me to embrace my new endeavor. I'm a big girl; I can admit it: I was definitely stalling on this one.

With four kids, you would think it was inevitable. You would think at some point one of those kids would need a coach and I would stop ignoring the pleading emails and donate my time and energy. You would think. But I would venture to say there ARE some parents out there who have multiple children and have not EVER crossed the game field lines into dark and scary world of coaching. But rather, they are the same ones sitting comfortably with me on Saturday mornings. Sweatshirts keeping us toasty since the morning sun hasn't burned off the chill in the air quite yet. Doing that little "I'm chilly" shake, while pleased as punch to be out watching our kids. Sitting in our little game chairs that are specially made to keep our rumps comfy as we sit. Really hot cup of coffee, sweetened just right, in that beautiful travel mug made for just these occasions. The cup might as well say "I'm spectating like it's my job."

And then it's game time. You should know I can cheer, yell, jump, shake my head and cover my eyes with the best of them. In fact, over the past 12 years I have perfected my pitch, tone, appropriate responses, and most especially my game faces. It's all about the faces. Well, now that has become my previous life. Somewhere round about the 3rd email strongly pleading for someone, anyone, to step up and coach boys U7 soccer, I caved. Okay, at the 2nd email I thought about it strongly and was fully prepared to defend myself with that should I ever be questioned about why I was not coaching. I mean, at least I thought about it. Yet, here came that pretty little 3rd email. And what was a mama to do?

Sure, I played soccer when I was a kid. But I was the one who quit eventually. Moved on to something else, and now that was so long ago I can barely remember it. Obviously relying on previous personal skills is not my selling point as a coach. Shockingly my husband and kids didn't mind pointing that out to me. They just want to keep me humble, that's all. Here I find myself in this little situation, and my boy needed me. I've got Soccer Chick playing travel soccer this season, Bball Girl is playing basketball like she gets paid for it and then there's youngest. Couldn't have my little ball of sunshine coachless, no could I? So up I stepped, and what do you know, I got me a team. Say what?!?

The great thing about leadership really boils down to who you place around you. Smart leaders place strategically. A really great leader places people around her who not only helps her, but knows more than her. In this case, I'm feeling pretty smart. Smug even. My assistant coaches are none other than Soccer Chick and Bball Girl. What fool wouldn't put these two athletes to work? Shoot, whatchu talkin' bout? I might not be the best person for the job but I have two energetic, athletic, young, sports-minded girls to run this show. Did I mention "young?" All I've got to do is show up with a plan and put these girls to work. The boys will love them!

So I've got my plan in place and now I just have to implement the plan. As any leader knows, a plan is just that...a plan. It does nothing if you don't do something with it. Which means, I'll be out there on the field, running with these boys, trying to teach them what I'm not an expert at myself. I mean, it's ten (yes, 10!) under 7 boys. How hard could it be? Google helps with this, right? Give them a ball and some cones and two goals and we've got a game. This thrust-from-sports-chair mom-coach thinks this should be easy...right? Trust me, no one is laughing more, and finding the humor in all this, than I am. Here's to the chalk lines that shall be drawn on the playing field! Wait...how does that happen, anyway?

Consequences of Adventure

Being rather brave folks, The Hub and I decided to take the teens of our church ice-skating last night. As an avid-roller-skater (by avid I mean solely in my head and not by my feet in oh, say 20 years pretty much) I figured ice-skating would be similar. I have seen those professionals on TV and I know it can't be too particularly easy, but...how hard could it really be? I can do it...

Off we go to the lovely ice-skating rink in Reston. Thankfully not too many souls out there on a Friday night. As we hit the ice, all of us grabbed ahold of the wall, immediately our best friend in this venture. But oh, Youngest, he entered that rink, and I kid you not, did not touch the wall. He just glided on out on the ice and took off. As he lapped us for about the 6th or 7th time we decided to pick our jaws up off the floor. This is the same kid who told us to remove his training wheels when he was only 4 years of age, because he had "seen" someone else ride without them and he could do it too. A testament to the power of believing in what you can do? We reluctantly removed those training wheels, more as a "we're the parents and we know better and this is an opportunity to teach you a lesson" type occasion. We were wrong. He coasted on his bike, a little wobbling here and there but he never fell. Amazing. We shouldn't have been surprised to see him gliding on ice skates making it look way too easy. This time he didn't even wobble. So unfair. Seems so unnatural. But I guess that's just it, for him it's all natural. Safe to say, he had a great time.

The majority of the rest of us made fast friends with that wall and didn't want to let go. Ever. It took me a bit, and I was shaky at first. I'm happy to say I made it all the way until the end of the night before taking my first spill, and that was a result of someone knocking me off my game. Once I got my balance figured out, I could go pretty well too. Not to get too confident in myself, I had BBall Girl also looping me as a reminder. She had no troubles at all, either. Both her and Youngest were showing off to tell you plainly. I started to trip them one time just to bring them down to my level. But you know, the mature adult in me said no, let's not be petty now...

Our teens, including Soccer Chick, remained on the wall for the most part. I got Soccer Chick to finally, after about an hour, let go of the wall and come around with me. I had gotten the hang of it, but like so many other things in life, just because you got it, doesn't mean you can help someone else get it. She would have been the opposite of Youngest. Where he had no doubt whatsoever that he could do this, she believed firmly that she couldn't. That inhibited her success more than her actions ever could have. Poor girl. Like I said, I finally got her to let go of her BFF wall, and off we went. We were doing pretty good until one unfortunate tumble where she lost her balance, fell towards me and I wasn't able to be the rock she needed me to be. Hey, I'm no wall. We both fell and I whacked my butt, followed by a sound thud of the back of my head on the ice. Ouch...

At first I couldn't even get up, and immediately had a massive headache. Pretty sure this is as close as I will come to having that NFL concussion experience. After two or three failed attempts at even getting up I somehow made it over to my new BFF wall. There was my night in shining armor, The Hub to greet me. Did I tell you he's smarter than me? He retired his skates about half an hour before I did. He knew he had done enough show-boating and schmoozing with skilled teens on the rink, and before anything stupid happens, go ahead and turn those skates in. He's smarter than me, for sure. He had face planted, butt planted and wall smacked enough times to know he was done trying to be Mr. Big Shot. But there he was coming to my rescue, and man was he the best sight for me to see. Poor Soccer Chick, hurt her fingers trying to catch my head, which instead got pinned under. What a mess. I'm thankful there are no YouTube watchable moments for this, because I am quite sure it was ugly. Uglier than ugly. It felt ugly, so I know the look of it would have brought me embarrassment for days.

And where was the skate monitor anyway? All night they were skating up to folks who fell to help them get up and make sure they were okay. I tell you I laid on that ice unable to get up, feeling dizzy and dazed and thought now where in the world has that girl gone too. She was inside the skate booth chatting with her co-workers. That also is like life, we can't take a break from doing the things we are supposed to be doing, because you just never know  when some poor sap is laying on the ice needing help. Man down! Well, like I said I got myself over to the wall, definitely with the help of Youngest and BBall Girl who, with their ever-compassionate selves were very worried about their mama. The Hub made me feel better, rubbed my now aching knot on the back of my head, and declared it was time to go...for me at least. No more skating for this old gal. I thought about getting back in there a few minutes after resting, but The Hub gave me a stern look that said don't be stupid. Sit your butt back down. That's what that look said, and I read it loud and clear.

All in all, it was fun. I'm glad we tried it. Other than youngest and Bball Girl, I'm not sure we'd be excited to try it again. Now, take me to a roller skating rink and I think I'd be alright. I can confidently say I used to be a dynamic skater. Like an every-Saturday-afternoon skater. An every-Christmas-new-skates skater. You folks from Charlottesville  know that Roses at Barracks Road had those shiny whites with beautiful red wheels on display every single Christmas. And I couldn't wait to get my newest pair and head on down to the rink. Eventually they closed the rink down and messed up my life and for sure my career in roller-skating.  I could be dreaming, probably am, but I think I still got what it takes for the roller skating bid. Ice-skating I'm not sure to mess with anytime soon. After all, I have woken up this morning feeling dazed and confused, and like I should call my coach and tell him I'm out for the next two or three regular season games. My head is aching and to add to my misery, my whole body hurts. Ice-skating is a great workout by itself. After running 45 minutes on the treadmill earlier in the day, it's pretty much guaranteed the next day will be painful.

I'm going to take it easy today. Moving slowly and recuperating by vegging out, other than BBall Girl's upcoming game (where they will be working to advance to an 11-0 season, by the way!). If you're heading out to do something new and adventurous anytime soon, beware of the ice. It's unforgiving as my butt and my head can tell you twelve plus hours later. How are the rest of the folks this morning, you wonder? Youngest is just peachy, I can faintly hear him making all his imagination sounds as he turns his room into yet another adventure. BBall Girl is washing clothes at the moment (don't get me to raving, she's a girl after her mother's own heart) and Soccer Chick, much to my envy, is still sound asleep. The Hub is working on his sermon, and relatively pain-free, because again, he is smarter than me.

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.