Thursday, September 30, 2010

It's Lunatic Football Season!


So it's that time of year again... there's a crispness in the air, leaves are changing, school is in full swing, and a certain sport is underway that causes the most rational of people to temporarily LOSE THEIR MINDS. I'm not sure what it is about football that seems to bring out the worst in some people. Maybe that's because I really don't even understand it. I try, really I do. I try not to miss my son's games if I can help it, and I am right there watching him and cheering him on in very vague and generic terms. I mostly just say, "Go, Riley!" or "Get in there, Riley!" If I see him hit someone, I cheer. If we score a touch down, I cheer. If everyone else on our sideline cheers, I cheer. I'm always asking Zack questions... What's a down? What's a sack? Why did they throw that flag on the field? What position does Riley play, again? I would say my understanding of the game is rudimentary, at best. If they gave grades for following and understanding the game, I'd be lucky to get a C-. If they gave grades for understanding the behavior of spectators and coaches, I would get a big ole F.

It is just a game, right? They're just kids, right? It's supposed to be fun, right? Every Tuesday evening, though, I see the most ludicrous behavior out of the adults around me. I like a little healthy competition as much as the next person. Just ask my running partners. You know... the kind of competitive spirit that helps push you to reach your potential and to grow as an athlete. I'm all for that, but it could be just a bit too much when a mom is screaming at her child and the team in such an ear shattering voice that I am genuinely concerned for the health of her vocal chords. One of my younger sons actually turned to me and said, "Mom. That lady's crazy". Quinn (21 months) was doing his best imitation of her by putting his hands around his mouth and making a raspy screech. It wasn't just the volume. It was her tone. Her own son turned to her and yelled, "Mom! You're not helping!" You can probably imagine what that got him... more yelling.

That same day, after a losing game, I saw a father berating his boy on the way to the car. He was screaming things like, "You're supposed to be playing football, out there!" The boy's head was hanging and his eyes were glistening with tears. Does he really think that's the way to reach his son? Is that really going to make him play better at the next game. More likely all it will get him is resentment.

The coaches aren't much better. We're talking sports and a bunch of guys, so I understand that yelling and a certain amount of 'guy talk' comes with the territory. A friend recently related a story about her son's coach telling his players to "leave their panties at home" on game day. I can roll with that. I have a harder time rolling with the face mask grabbing, in their face cussing kind of behavior some of these yahoos exhibit. It's not the friggen NFL!

I'm not sure this mom alone can take on all these lunatics and big egos. So I guess all I can do is try make sure my kid knows that all we expect from him is his best, and try to bring a little positive energy with us to the sideline on Tuesday night. Can't say I'll be heartbroken to see football season go.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

One More Thing

So things have been a tad busy around our house the last few weeks. School is back in session, Riley is playing football, Shayna is playing volleyball, I'm trying (or at least I say I'm trying) to fit in a little exercise, I've got my daycare kids, and Zack is insanely busy and stressed out at work. I'm talking the kind of work stress that has him either working on his computer until after midnight or asleep by 8:30. Add to all of this the fact that Shayna's scoliosis has progressed to the point where intervention needs to be considered, and at Owen's well child visit yesterday, the doctor found an umbilical hernia... and you have one mommy who really can't take one more thing! But of course, there is always one more thing. Zack just called to tell me that he has been selected to serve on a jury. Really??? Listen, I know that civic duty is important and all that, and if I were on trial I would absolutely want someone like Zack on my jury, but couldn't it have happened at a slightly more convenient time? Calgon... take me away!!!

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

The Best Laid Plans


Before Zack and I were married, back in the days when we would talk late into the night about our hopes and dreams for our family (before we got old and started going to bed by 9:30), we thought we would like to have a house full of girls (or at least 3). We were thrilled, therefore, with the arrival of our first child, a girl! When we found out that our second child would be a boy, we weren't disappointed. I had this idea that he would be a little boy sandwiched between a couple of sisters who would love and dote on him.



When I had an ultrasound midway through my third pregnancy, it was with excitement that I waited for the technician to tell me I was growing a little girl (because I was positive that I was). As I watched the screen, I felt a lump in my throat as I saw what (even with my very limited experience with mini, male anatomy), looked to be baby 'boy parts'. I looked up at the tech and, biting back tears said, "Is that what I think it is?", to which she responded as delicately as she could, "I'm afraid so". This was (I so very mistakenly thought) our last baby,
and I had my heart set on another girl. As we drove home, and talked to the other kids about what we should name this new baby brother, three year old Riley helped pull me out of my funk by suggesting Clifford (that's right... as in the Big Red Dog), and within a week or so I had thoroughly adjusted to the idea (the idea of a boy,that is... not one named Clifford), and looked forward to having another son.

We moved along with our lives thinking that our family was probably complete. Almost exactly a year later, however, as I once again gazed down at those two pink lines, I realized that our plans needed a little revision. This ultrasound proceeded in a similar fashion as the last... anticipation followed by disappointment, followed by an adjustment period, followed by excitement. Now we really thought we were done having babies. We had officially crossed over into the 'large family' category. Our house and our vehicles were feeling pretty full, while our pocket book was feeling pretty empty on one teacher salary.

Fast forward 4 years. Zack has now been an elementary principal for almost three years. I am transitioning back into the work force and have been working half time as a Title I reading teacher for almost a year. We live in a larger house. The vehicles are still pretty full, but there is still room to squeeze in a couple of friends. The pocket book isn't quite so empty. Things are feeling pretty good... and along come those dang pink lines again! I was shocked, disappointed, worried, and honestly still grieving the loss of my father - it had been just over 6 months since the accident. Throw a few raging hormones into the mix and, to put it plainly, I was an emotional train wreck. My sweet husband and closest friend deserve the credit for keeping me from flying completely off the deep end.

As the parents of five children, we definitely get some attention for being such a 'large' family. We get some funny looks at restaurants and even the occasional question about our religious affiliation. A family of our size is bound to draw plenty of eyebrow raises and the inevitable 'repeat'. By 'repeat' I mean the response I get when I say, "I have five children", and the individual, oh so intelligently replies, "You have five children?".

We started out as a young married couple with a picture in our minds of this family we wanted to create, and although the finished portrait isn't quite the one we had envisioned (it's a bit more crowded and there are more pants than dresses), it is a masterpiece to us, and we wouldn't change a thing. And just in case you're wondering, the picture is complete. We (and by we I mean Zack) have made things a bit more foolproof and permanent. I mean, after I gave birth to five babies, it's the least he could do, don't ya think?


Wednesday, September 22, 2010

When I grow up...

Why are kids always in such a hurry to grow up? They look forward to milestone ages with such excitement and anticipation. They can't wait to be five because it means they're headed to kindergarten. Ten year olds are FINALLY in the double digits. Kids practically count the minutes until they turn thirteen, because teenagers are soooo cool! Sixteen means a driver's license. Eighteen means they are officially 'adults'... although I know very few 18 year olds (myself at that age included) who are terribly mature and responsible. Then comes the first (legal) drink at twenty one.

I know I sort of stopped looking forward to birthdays somewhere during my late 20's. For a woman after the age of 35, the only thing birthdays bring (other than presents, of course) are more wrinkles, gray hair and sagging in places that used to be so perky and firm.

When I was young, I had this idea that once I grew up and found the perfect guy I would have a 'happily ever after' kind of life, an idea that was helped along by dozens of romantic comedies and romance novels. But the truth is, although my guy is one of the best, there are no perfect guys. There are no 'happily ever afters'. Life is messy and full of disappointment. Marriage is hard. Friends let us down. Raising kids is stressful. Money is tight. Just when you think things are moving along pretty smoothly, inevitably there are little bumps in the road to remind you how hard being a grown up really is.... a car repair, an illness, an argument. Then, every once in a while, there come the boulders in the road; things that you just don't think you can get around... the death of a loved one, a friend with cancer, a family you love that's falling apart.

Most of us manage to muddle through somehow with the help of the people we love. Thank heaven there are the joyful moments that somehow balance out the struggles and pain. Being a grown up isn't about being 'happy'. It's about learning and growing and most importantly... loving. Unfortunately, to know and appreciate love, we also have to deal with the pain. So whenever my kids are in a hurry to grow up, I tell them to slow down and have fun. I remind them to enjoy the carefree days of childhood. Although being a grow up can (and should) include a healthy dose of fun, It's anything but carefree.

Monday, September 6, 2010

Excuses! Excuses!

It's been kind of a struggle to find the motivation to get out and run the last few weeks. Finding excuses for not exercising comes pretty naturally to me... years of practice makes perfect. At first my excuse was, "I just ran a half marathon, so I'm taking a little break." I actually thought that was a pretty good one, and the people I used it on sure seemed to buy it. Then the kids and I went out of town for a few days. On my own in San Diego with 5 kids is not exactly the ideal circumstance for getting out for a run. Then school started. Shayna is busy with volleyball. Zack is busy with work. It's getting dark earlier... it's just getting harder to fit it in.

This weekend I had decided that it was time to just get out and get it done. I had done a few short runs and tonight I planned to do eight miles. My hamstring had been a little sore from a water skiing incident on Saturday when I crashed and my legs went in opposite directions, forcing me to do the splits (not a natural or comfortable position for this very inflexible old lady). It wasn't giving me too much trouble though and didn't really hurt when I would walk or even run. It would just smart a bit when I would squat down.

So I went ahead and hit the pavement. Right about four miles, I was thinking to myself, "You're halfway there", and I was feeling good; the hamstring was sore, but not painful. But just at that moment, I felt a little pop and my hammy went from a little sore to OUCH! I took a few more strides to see if it would work itself out. No luck... still hurting. So I thought that maybe if I stretched it out really good, I could finish my run without too much pain. I stopped, extended my leg to stretch it, and in a matter of seconds was covered by hundreds of mosquitoes. They landed on just about every part of my body and were literally swarming around my face. My only choice was to try to outrun them. So I limp/ran while swatting away as many as I could. I managed in this manner for about another half mile.

SO... for those of you Craigites who may have seen me running along Victory Way this evening with a strange limping gait while waving my arms around me wildly, I really haven't completely lost my mind (yet)... just a little "run"- in with some pesky bugs. Just as I was approaching the Fairgrounds I felt another pop, and this time the pain was too much to even limp-run. I was forced to walk the rest of the way home which was nearly 2 miles taking the most direct route. So in my attempt to put the excuses aside, I managed to come up with a new excuse... a hamstring injury. How much time do you think that one will buy me?