12 years ago
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Minute to Win It
She was out of our sight for one minute, and then...
What else are irresponsible parents supposed to do but take photos of the children they weren't watching very closely?
What else are irresponsible parents supposed to do but take photos of the children they weren't watching very closely?
Monday, March 28, 2011
Soccer Punch
We recently wrapped up a torturous soccer experience. When a few of my friends indicated that they were going to sign their children up, I thought it would be great fun to watch Gavin run around and chase a soccer ball as I had watched my brother 14-15 years ago (am I that old? Is Reed that old??). Casey swallowed his T-ball dreams and consented, so we cheerfully shelled out the money. At the time, I think my mindset was along the lines of, "What is $65 when we are gaining precious memories?"
How naive was I.
I should have known when we attended the very first soccer meeting and the go-to guy in charge of everything rambled on for 40 minutes about absolutely nothing that was relevant to us.
I should have known when the shorts they sent with the uniform were so large that every child was in serious danger of indecent exposure on the field.
I should have known when we never knew where/who/when we were playing because there were 2 or 3 different schedules and none of them matched.
I should have known when we showed up one day with our whole team to what we thought was our game location and absolutely no one else was there. Not a soul. Think tumbleweeds blowing in the wind, eerily quiet. Hmmm.
But most of all, I should have known when Gavin had massive tantrums and crying fits for three straight games that...
...he's my child.
Every parent wants their child to inherit all of their good qualities and none of their bad. It takes me quite a while to sift through my less-desirable qualities to get to one that I'd like Gavin to acquire, and when he started showing signs of THE ONE QUALITY that I absolutely didn't want him to suffer with...well, let's just say I nearly threw in the parenting towel right there on the soccer field. To make matters worse, I'm not the only parent he gets perfectionism from - Casey is nearly as bad, and he also gave Gavin the competitive spirit I saw manifesting itself in frustration as he fought for control of the ball.
In game #1, Gavin was a soccer rock star! He dodged, he parried, he defended, and he even scored the first goal of the season right off the bat! We were thinking life was spectacular!
But then he was completely defeated emotionally in game #2 when the kids were bigger and faster than he was. He was knocked down a few times and scraped up his knees, but it wasn't life-threatening or anything akin to it. He came away feeling like he was a failure because he couldn't kick the ball in the goal the whole time.
Fail? At 3 years old? In soccer? Seriously??
Games 3-5 were awful. AWFUL. As soon as he was within 15 yards of the field, he dropped his head, sauntered around and said he didn't want to play. With any coercion at all, he would throw himself down on the sidelines and cry. And cry. And yell. I even had to half drag him to the car one time to sit inside and calm down.
After all of our impulsive tactics failed (we didn't try bribery, which I'm no longer above), I finally came up with a sticker chart of actions he could perform at the soccer game that I thought would at least get him on the field. They included such athletic events as, "Smile."
"Give someone a high-five."
"Cheer for the other team."
"Get a drink."
I just needed to take his mind off kicking the ball at all, and I was trying to show him the fun in playing the game and being part of a team. Thank goodness for our killer coach, Alexis, who is a super awesome person and was so kind and understanding. (Her son, Owen used amazing defensive techniques that freaked the other team out, like jumping in their faces and roaring like a dinosaur. Awesome.)
In the last game, Gavin finally yet tentatively played, and the stickers seemed to work. Soccer is no more, Casey is secretly cheering (those Jacobs and their baseball, geez), and I need a vacation. I know Gavin is young and we will try different sports later, but I can't believe the stress and ruckus in our foray into soccer.
Enjoy the photos below, all taken during the first or second game. There is nothing more hypocritical that I could do than to show you smiling photos of either my son or his father or myself in any other game. We'll be starting a new, non-competitive, parent-run sports and activity club this week, so I hope that goes better.
If it doesn't, at least there will be other parents there to pick up the clumps of hair I am sure to tear out.
How naive was I.
I should have known when we attended the very first soccer meeting and the go-to guy in charge of everything rambled on for 40 minutes about absolutely nothing that was relevant to us.
I should have known when the shorts they sent with the uniform were so large that every child was in serious danger of indecent exposure on the field.
I should have known when we never knew where/who/when we were playing because there were 2 or 3 different schedules and none of them matched.
I should have known when we showed up one day with our whole team to what we thought was our game location and absolutely no one else was there. Not a soul. Think tumbleweeds blowing in the wind, eerily quiet. Hmmm.
But most of all, I should have known when Gavin had massive tantrums and crying fits for three straight games that...
...he's my child.
Every parent wants their child to inherit all of their good qualities and none of their bad. It takes me quite a while to sift through my less-desirable qualities to get to one that I'd like Gavin to acquire, and when he started showing signs of THE ONE QUALITY that I absolutely didn't want him to suffer with...well, let's just say I nearly threw in the parenting towel right there on the soccer field. To make matters worse, I'm not the only parent he gets perfectionism from - Casey is nearly as bad, and he also gave Gavin the competitive spirit I saw manifesting itself in frustration as he fought for control of the ball.
In game #1, Gavin was a soccer rock star! He dodged, he parried, he defended, and he even scored the first goal of the season right off the bat! We were thinking life was spectacular!
But then he was completely defeated emotionally in game #2 when the kids were bigger and faster than he was. He was knocked down a few times and scraped up his knees, but it wasn't life-threatening or anything akin to it. He came away feeling like he was a failure because he couldn't kick the ball in the goal the whole time.
Fail? At 3 years old? In soccer? Seriously??
Games 3-5 were awful. AWFUL. As soon as he was within 15 yards of the field, he dropped his head, sauntered around and said he didn't want to play. With any coercion at all, he would throw himself down on the sidelines and cry. And cry. And yell. I even had to half drag him to the car one time to sit inside and calm down.
After all of our impulsive tactics failed (we didn't try bribery, which I'm no longer above), I finally came up with a sticker chart of actions he could perform at the soccer game that I thought would at least get him on the field. They included such athletic events as, "Smile."
"Give someone a high-five."
"Cheer for the other team."
"Get a drink."
I just needed to take his mind off kicking the ball at all, and I was trying to show him the fun in playing the game and being part of a team. Thank goodness for our killer coach, Alexis, who is a super awesome person and was so kind and understanding. (Her son, Owen used amazing defensive techniques that freaked the other team out, like jumping in their faces and roaring like a dinosaur. Awesome.)
In the last game, Gavin finally yet tentatively played, and the stickers seemed to work. Soccer is no more, Casey is secretly cheering (those Jacobs and their baseball, geez), and I need a vacation. I know Gavin is young and we will try different sports later, but I can't believe the stress and ruckus in our foray into soccer.
Enjoy the photos below, all taken during the first or second game. There is nothing more hypocritical that I could do than to show you smiling photos of either my son or his father or myself in any other game. We'll be starting a new, non-competitive, parent-run sports and activity club this week, so I hope that goes better.
If it doesn't, at least there will be other parents there to pick up the clumps of hair I am sure to tear out.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Happy Pi Day (A Day Late)
Yesterday was Pi Day - you know, pi?
3.14?
3/14?
Right. We didn't actually "celebrate" it with streamers and balloons and such because that would have just been ridiculous, but we did find it a welcome excuse to eat pie!
Doesn't that just look delicious?? Mini apple pies on a stick is MY kind of celebration.
And yep, you caught us - we're total nerds. If you didn't know that already, just ask Casey what pi actually means.
It looks to me like being a nerd paid off in scrumptious dividends yesterday. Lovely.
3.14?
3/14?
Right. We didn't actually "celebrate" it with streamers and balloons and such because that would have just been ridiculous, but we did find it a welcome excuse to eat pie!
Doesn't that just look delicious?? Mini apple pies on a stick is MY kind of celebration.
And yep, you caught us - we're total nerds. If you didn't know that already, just ask Casey what pi actually means.
It looks to me like being a nerd paid off in scrumptious dividends yesterday. Lovely.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Weekend Project 2
I may be prone to the occasional delusion of grandeur. I can't help it. When we bought our house my delusions for our backyard included fire pits, grass, cozy outdoor rooms, fireflies, strings of lights, etc. As it turns out there are no fireflies in Tucson, and the rest of my ideas required money that went to pay for diapers and water softeners (WHY didn't anyone tell me the water was hard enough to make my clothing stand up by itself??). Fortunately, we have had a little extra this year to start making my delusions a lovely reality.
We decided that bugs and heat would hold us captive no more and that we needed to provide something other than a sandbox to compel us to go outside and brave the terrors of the Arizona desert. A swing set was in our sights, and after doing our research we thought we had a winner online. Being a careful consumer, Casey suggested that we brave the crowds at Costco on a lovely spring Saturday to cover our bases. As we entered the warehouse, I swear I heard a heavenly chorus and saw a beam of light shine down on a swing set visible from the moment we walked in. Casey's eyes widened and he was drawn like a moth to the flame. He pushed our child-laden cart directly toward the structure, knocking over anything and anyone in his path. As he stopped in front of the swing set, his hands slowly raised up above his head and I thought I heard him whisper, "This is the place...I mean, the set."
In an interesting turn of events, my husband (usually a tad parsimonious) decided to spend a bit more on this set than we had anticipated, but after making his case for quality vs. price, I left it up to him. We purchased the set and he recruited a friend who evidently didn't mind us completely ruining his weekend as long as gummy bears were provided, because he cheerfully volunteered to help. Our ever-present neighbor, Tony, also provided much valuable help and experience. Casey and his crew worked a tireless 20 cumulative hours over two days, suffered sunburns, exhaustion, dehydration and project burnout (you know, that burnout that comes after initial "This is going to be AWESOME!" enthusiasm wanes around hour #14 when you realize that out of 57 steps, you are only on step 12 and there are still hundreds of pieces strewn about that have yet to be incorporated); and never once complained.
In the end, this is what they came up with:
Although no one got paid to build it, I'm certain that Casey came out on top because he gets to experience the daily joy exhibited by this little face (and, eventually, his sister, pending the cessation of sticking things in her mouth e.g. sand we intend to put under swing set):
We decided that bugs and heat would hold us captive no more and that we needed to provide something other than a sandbox to compel us to go outside and brave the terrors of the Arizona desert. A swing set was in our sights, and after doing our research we thought we had a winner online. Being a careful consumer, Casey suggested that we brave the crowds at Costco on a lovely spring Saturday to cover our bases. As we entered the warehouse, I swear I heard a heavenly chorus and saw a beam of light shine down on a swing set visible from the moment we walked in. Casey's eyes widened and he was drawn like a moth to the flame. He pushed our child-laden cart directly toward the structure, knocking over anything and anyone in his path. As he stopped in front of the swing set, his hands slowly raised up above his head and I thought I heard him whisper, "This is the place...I mean, the set."
In an interesting turn of events, my husband (usually a tad parsimonious) decided to spend a bit more on this set than we had anticipated, but after making his case for quality vs. price, I left it up to him. We purchased the set and he recruited a friend who evidently didn't mind us completely ruining his weekend as long as gummy bears were provided, because he cheerfully volunteered to help. Our ever-present neighbor, Tony, also provided much valuable help and experience. Casey and his crew worked a tireless 20 cumulative hours over two days, suffered sunburns, exhaustion, dehydration and project burnout (you know, that burnout that comes after initial "This is going to be AWESOME!" enthusiasm wanes around hour #14 when you realize that out of 57 steps, you are only on step 12 and there are still hundreds of pieces strewn about that have yet to be incorporated); and never once complained.
In the end, this is what they came up with:
Comments on the appearance of my backyard in general are NOT welcome. Focus on the swing set.
 | ||
Priceless.
***Side note: Gavin woke up the first morning of the project and hopped in my bed, excited as could be. He indicated that he wanted to go outside and play on his new swing set, but when I told him it would take a very long time to put it together, he said, "Well, I want Daddy to be done by the time I count to 20."
Does 20 hours count?
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Weekend Project
In a truly serendipitous turn of events, we happened to be at Home Depot on Saturday morning after another truly painful soccer game (more on that later). As we walked into the store we were surprised to hear from a very friendly employee that on the first Saturday of each month, this particular location held free workshops for kids. The workshop for that day just happened to be something I knew my little son would LOVE to build with his dad: a race car!
We didn't have time to stay and build the car at the worktables that were set up outside the store, but they gladly gave us the coveted orange Home Depot apron all the other kids were wearing and sent us home with the race car kit! How completely wonderful!
My son and his dad had a splendid time building together as evidenced by the ear-to-ear grin on my son's face and exclamations of delight not captured in a still shot. I hope we have time to go back next month and build a crate!
(I'll be honest - I sort of want an orange apron myself.)
We didn't have time to stay and build the car at the worktables that were set up outside the store, but they gladly gave us the coveted orange Home Depot apron all the other kids were wearing and sent us home with the race car kit! How completely wonderful!
My son and his dad had a splendid time building together as evidenced by the ear-to-ear grin on my son's face and exclamations of delight not captured in a still shot. I hope we have time to go back next month and build a crate!
(I'll be honest - I sort of want an orange apron myself.)
Helping with the hammer
I can do it by myself, Dad!
Wow! This is starting to look like a race car!
I made this!
I'm not sure if I'm more excited that I built a race car or that I built it with my Dad...
Saturday, February 26, 2011
First Things First
Averi took her first steps about a week ago! The following video is likely totally uninteresting and way too long for anyone not emotionally invested in my children, but if you can tolerate me squealing like a dog's squeaky toy and Averi following suit, then sit back and enjoy!
Mom and Dad: notice in the last 10 seconds of the video that Gavin says to me, "I'm going to go call your mom and dad." Off camera, he's getting a play phone, and you can hear him say, "Hello?" Presumably after dialing your number, of course.
Gavin's reaction is priceless. He gets so excited for his sister's victories. I hope he stays that way and that they are always the best of friends.
Mom and Dad: notice in the last 10 seconds of the video that Gavin says to me, "I'm going to go call your mom and dad." Off camera, he's getting a play phone, and you can hear him say, "Hello?" Presumably after dialing your number, of course.
Gavin's reaction is priceless. He gets so excited for his sister's victories. I hope he stays that way and that they are always the best of friends.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
