Soccer Saturdays

I swore to myself my kids would not play soccer until they were 8, 9, 10 years old. It's ridiculous to toss the little ones, many of whom can barely kick the ball much less have anything that resembles a skill set, out on a field and let them go at it.

Yessiree, we were going to do some backyard lessons/play time and if they liked it? We'd take them down to the city where they could get schooled in pick-up games, but learn some creative skills. My kids were going to learn the old-fashioned way so they wouldn't have to do the boring and time-wasting stand-around-and-wait-your turn-to-kick-a-ball practice that is the hallmark of soccer practice in this age group. And I know I've offended some people by now, but you must know I really don't care.

So what are we doing? We signed them up. Why? Because for Ainsley, her best friend from Kindergarten (oh how we truly LOVE Olivia!) did it last year and had fun. For the trips, because theirs is a non-competitive soccer camp (no games) and since Gracie could spend as much time as we'd let her kicking a ball into a goal, why not? And, let's be honest, it's practically free.

How did it go?

Well, most of the children at the camp had fun. Not mine, but most. Of the 30-odd kids with the Trips, mine were 3 of the 5 kids who did everything they could to NOT participate. It was so painfully obvious that we don't get out much. Highlights for The Three? Purple soccer socks for the girls and blue for Johnny. Oh, and new soccer balls which they carried around. At one point they were supposed to kick the ball to one of the coaches, who would then stop it set it up so they could have the thrill of kicking it into a goal. What did Johnny do? Kicked it to the coach, then ran up, picked up the ball, and threw it into the goal. Sigh. I should add that I had to keep folding Lizzy and Johnny's socks down b/c they preferred to wear them as thigh-highs. Very fashionable. And cool.

For Ainsley? Hanging with her sweet friend, water breaks, and snacks were pretty much the highlights. Oh, and the team jersey. And her purple socks. And her purple soccer shorts.

And I'm over it. I'm super-selfish with my time and after an entire Saturday morning being occupied with soccer...I wouldn't be devastated if everything was cancelled.

Since it won't, at least I'll have a week under my belt and will be better prepared. All these professional soccer parents showed up with chairs, drinks for themselves (I had some for the kids), blankets, the works. I did not. I had nothing except for a laden backpack filled with water and snacks for the kiddos, so I totally looked like a newbie, which was annoying.

Johnny, holding the ball. Socks pulled down around his ankles b/c he didn't like them the traditional way. At least they no longer looked like leggings.

Gracie, just before camp started. I had to walk with her out to her coaches, clinging to my leg.

Buddies. I'm loving the fancy socks!

Lizzy, carrying her ball around. Again. She kept putting it down, which meant another kids would innocently use it, and she would get pretty frosted.

This week will be better, right? Right?!?!?

Put It In The Toilet!!!

Ranks in the top 10 of sentences every mother does not want to hear, especially when the four oldest have crammed themselves in the 1/2-bath, armed with glow-stick things, lights off, and the worst? The door was locked.

Happy shrieks, lots of the word "hiney" used (why are they sooo obsessed with hineys, and what in Creation were they doing that required the word?), and then the dreaded "put it in the toilet!!" was shouted. Oh My Stars. Put WHAT in the toilet??!??!?!?

Apparently, someone (Ainsley) thought it might be cool to see if the glow-axe in Johnny's possession lit up the toilet. Thankfully we never found out how cool it would have been because John started pounding on the door, telling our little urchins to open up and get out. Please.

For My Children

Dear Ainsley, Johnny, Lizzy, Gracie, and Annie,

I've debated for days about whether or not I should write something about this day in history. My fear was being cliche' or impersonal or not respectful enough. Complete enough. Deep enough.

But then I felt it ought not to be ignored, if only at the very, very least, for its historical significance. My generation, born as Vietnam was raggedly coming to a close, thankfully hadn't experienced a major war, or at least one that deeply affected the nation as a whole. And that statement in itself doesn't acknowledge the soldiers involved in Desert Storm or the fear of the Cold War, but I will arguably state that neither of those created an instantaneous and intense emotional reaction as the symbolic representation of evil on September 11, 2001.

You will learn the details of the day from us and in school, so they would be redundant to repeat here. What you won't learn in school, but hopefully from us, is that this was not an event that stands in isolation. Because we are inherantly bad and are therefore capable of bad things, bad things will happen. Horrific and unspeakable events, such as what happened on that day in Pennsylvania, Virginia, and New York, will and currently take place, every minute of every day, because of the simple presence of humanity.

Your dad and I will fiercely try to protect you from the horrors that exist while you are children. We don't pretend the world and everyone in it is perfect and filled with gumdrops and lollipops, but we firmly believe children need to have a knowledge foundation built of the safety and beauty of God's perfect Love before they experience hatred. There will be too many years that Hatred will be a presence in your life, if even only on television and oh, let that be so.

We will point you to all that is perfect, He who is perfect. We will teach you that Evil exists but will not and can not prevail because already there is Victory.

For Thine is the Kingdom.

And the power.

And the glory forever.

Amen.

23 Minutes

Ainsley's school starts promptly at 8:39 am

This morning she crossed the threshold of her school at 8:38 am and I consider it a minor miracle.

8:15 am is supposed to be Game Time around here (shoes on and exiting the house).

On this day, the clock hit 8:15 and...

1. Annie spit up on herself and the carpet and played in it because that's what babies do.
2. Toilet got clogged which is SO fascinating for SO many wee ones.
3. Annie then pooped.
4. We forgot Gracie hadn't gone potty yet (it'd only been 14 hours, folks).
5. Toilet still clogged b/c of other issues, so Gracie is sent somewhere else. Under protest.
6. Ainsley decided she needs to go potty, so she is sent somewhere else. Under protest.
7. Annie changed, dressed.
8. Backpack. Lunch box. Shoes. Check. Check. Check.
9. 5 kids in the car. Check. Strapped in (we have been known to forget someone). Check.

8:28 - drove away from the house

8:32 - arrived at school. Parked, unloaded the car, and made my little ducklings spit-spot it up to the door

8:38 - yell "I love you! and Have a good day!" to Ainsley as she raced onward and upward.

Mental double fist pump.

Home.

We were back for about 30 seconds when I heard Lizzy freaking. I looked over and Johnny had intentionally put a wind-up toy in her hair (which immediately became embedded). He made a second poor decision and laughed about it, which promptly landed him in some serious business.

It's all normal around here.

Oh So Painful

I was out on a run tonight and felt absolutely wonderful until I was about 75 yards from my house and a little piece of me died.

On the way out I passed by a neighbor's house. She was having some people over and they were having fun, which reminded me of all the times I've sat on a friend's back porch/patio on a summer night, with no worries about the consequences of staying up too late.

So I was smiling and reminiscing on my jaunt, missing some dear friends who have moved away, and it was good.

But then I passed by again on the way back and, in the midst of their sweet and laughing conversation, someone loudly said "oh she's older, like in her 30's".

What!??!?!? WHAT??!?!?!

I wanted to stop running, curl up in the fetal position, and cry. Because folks, I no longer have the luxury of being in that "older" age group and do not want to know how my current decade would be described.

Sigh.

Someone's On The Move

See this yummy little munchkin?



She is no longer interested in her toys or the exersaucer, or any form of confinement. She thinks it's hilarious to make a break for the stairs, the bathroom (try making 4 kids remember to keep that door closed - yuck), and the forbidden toys strewn all over. The pantry doors open and she makes a break for it, knowing the napkins and other playthings are there, just begging her to yank them out and stick in her mouth.




She's growing up way too quickly.

This Is A New One

I was putting Annie down for a nap today when Johnny appeared. The kids know not to barge in when this is happening since they have the knack for popping in just as I'm oh-so-gently placing her in her crib. Their presence reminds her there's a party going on in the house she would not care to miss and it makes me crazy.

They know they are allowed in only if: someone is bleeding or unconscious, someone hit/kicked/smacked someone else, or was hit/kicked/smacked, or if the house is on fire.

So it was unusual for him to be there and even more unusual that he was cheery and persistent (to his credit he knew not to cross the threshold and was actually whispering, too). I couldn't understand anything he was saying, so I smiled and waved him on and told him I'd be right down.

The FIRST THING they all told me, and they were terribly pleased with themselves, was "Don't worry, Mommy! We cleaned everything up!".

I looked down, and there is the last remaining portable potty in the middle of the floor. With urine in it.

Me, in my calmest voice: What did you clean up?

Johnny: See! I used a towel and everything! :)

Lizzy: I tee-teed a little on the floor! :)

Gracie: We all used the Swiffer! :)

Johnny, Lizzy, Gracie: We all took turns with the Swiffer! We cleaned everything up! Don't worry! We did a great job! We didn't get any tee-tee on our feet!

It should be noted here that the Swiffer they used was the one that is used like a broom, where a disposable cloth is attached. There was no cloth attached, so they had basically spread urine around with hard plastic.

From what I good-cop pieced together, this is what took place: Lizzy had to go to the bathroom but was too busy playing (very nicely) with the others and didn't want to miss out on anything. So she missed out on something and went all the way upstairs to get a portable potty so she could be more efficient. She must have had some degree of an accident (hence the towel and swiffer) because I'm sure she waited until the last second, but who knows how much or little.

The angle I'm choosing to take on this is that this was a good event for three reasons:

1. There was no tattling.
2. They worked together (love Teamwork!!)
3. It was on the hardwood, so no carpet involved.

A good day.