Our Weekend

This is the snow that cancelled Isabelle's soccer game. Phew! That only leaves us 2 volleyball games and 1 other soccer game to go to!

This is the dog that loves loves loves to chase snow balls.

This is where she sits when she comes back inside and sites for her dog portrait.

Uh-oh! Time to go! This is Isabelle at her very first game:

DOWN AND READY! (they yell this a lot)

I might start yelling it in the middle of dinner to see if anyone responds.

She asked me after the game what she could have done better. Ummm...maybe not be so hard on yourself? Just a thought, after the first game of YOUR LIFE!


OK, throw on some clothes- okay, a lot of clothes, and lets pace back and forth in the freezing weather shall we?

This is Maria coming in too early for the ball, but getting in a nice ankle kick anyway. It looks like her eyes are closed and she is just hoping for the best. That's how I usually play as well.

Weird. Nobody wants me on their team...

This is what it looks like to kick a frozen ball around the field. It makes me cold all over again.

Back to the warm gym I say!

This is all of Maria's energy getting thrown into a serve. She is even gritting her teeth I think. It made it over, and in 5th grade that's all you can really hope for since nobody can return any of the serves. You think I am being funny, but I'm not. Her game of 3 matches lasted over an HOUR. I won't tell you how many times they forgot to rotate on a serve and lost the ball. Then the other team missed their serve and we got it back.

There were looooong stretches of time where no points were scored.

She's eyeing either the ref or the score keepers. Quite frankly, it looks like she paid one of them off before the game.

Once Morrie and I can figure out how to clone ourselves, this will all be a piece of cake. We're hoping to have the gene part figured out by Friday as we have 4 soccer games and 2 volleyball games this weekend. Gulp.

My Worst Day of High School

Now that Isabelle is about to go into 9th grade, I have been telling her stories about my own high school experience, in hopes that she can laugh a little and learn that high school is a completely different universe compared to grade school.
I have already told her about the time I were working in a small group in math and my group was talking about where to buy drugs (I was decidedly quiet), about the time I asked a boy to a dance and he said no (he was waiting for someone else to ask him- and no, he didn't need to tell me that), and about how the girl next to me in Biology tried to convince me to let her copy off my test (except she didn't know I totally and completely did not understand a word of Biology).
I also told her about the good times too- those just aren't as funny as the not so good times.

And so our story begins.

At the end of sophomore year, I was feeling pretty great. I had made some good friends playing volleyball, felt secure in my circle of girls, and we were going to be Juniors! We were going to be able to choose several classes going in to Junior year and I couldn't wait. Upperclassman! They were soo cool, soo mature, and I was going to be one. I had some high hopes for myself. I just knew that my bad hair days were behind me and boys were going to actually like me this next year. It was going to be rad!
I wanted to put in my application for Yearbook for the upcoming year. I was very excited. It seemed like the perfect place for me to start my life as a Junior. I was interested in design, typeface, layout, photography, and here was my chance to put those together.
I waited nervously for 2 weeks and much to my dismay, I was not chosen for Yearbook. This seemed like a repeat of the previous year when I tried out for Cheerleading. I worked really hard at all of the practices, perfected my tryout routine and just knew in the depths of my soul that I was MEANT to be a cheerleader. I could see myself in the uniform. That may have been because my sister let me try on her old uniform, but none the less, this was my destiny. When the list was posted and my name wasn't on it, I walked out of the school as quickly as I could, got in the car for the ride home from school (with 6 friends who lived near me) and had tears silently slide down my face for 20 miles until we got home. It took me a while to get over that one.
The Yearbook news made me crumble a bit inside, but I still had volleyball, right? Plus, I was going to be a JUNIOR. You can't deny the god like status that upperclassman had. They knew their way around, had the good lockers, had 2 years worth of friends, chose their own classes, and had lunch off campus.
I prepared that summer for volleyball tryouts by going to camp with my teammates and was stoked about my life as I knew it would unfold. Yearbook was a distant memory- at least I was trying to squash it down like one. Volleyball tryouts lasted 4 days, and I was happy to have this circle of friends around me again. On the fourth day, the coaches sat on the far side of the gym and talked quietly while we scrimmaged. I remember having awesome block where my team mates high fived me. I looked over at the coaches, but they hadn't seen it. I brushed it off. I was feeling confident. That whole Yearbook memory was fading fast. The coaches read the names of the girls who made JV- but I was a Junior, so my name wasn't on that list. Then she read the names of the girls who made Varsity. Then she thanked us all.
Wait. You didn't say my name. Are you sure? Do you want to double check your list? By this time my heart was a little bit hard. This sucked. What was wrong with me anyway? I had just gotten my braces off, didn't they know my life was supposed to be perfect now? Couldn't they see my straight teeth and immediately tell that I was immune to sophomoric mistakes, that I was a Junior! This was not really in my plan, and I wondered how they didn't know this.
I took a deep breath. I told myself it was okay. I collected my emotions and dumped them in a box and taped it up really good. I thought about going to go to registration the next day where I will get a good locker, and see who was in my classes. This would all be fine. I am an upperclassman now and I would just push that box to the furthest corner of my brain that I could find.
I woke up the next morning and spent quite a bit of time with my curling iron and a bottle of hairspray. I wanted to look perfect for my yearbook photo. If I couldn't help plan the yearbook, then I was sure as hell going to look good in it. Our pictures were going to be in color this year, because we were upperclassman. This was awesome. Finally! I went through registration, got my locker on the 2nd floor, made my way between the buildings and finally made it to the class list. Our Junior class would be divided into 3 groups and all of our classes would be with those people in our group. My group was called "MN". How exciting! I was giddy as I made my way to the list of names. Who was going to be in MN with me? As I ran my finger down the list of names, not one looked familiar.
I slowly re-read the list. What? Not a single person who I had been friends with over the past 2 years was on my list. My stomach dropped. I felt hot. What was going on? I was in my third year and I wasn't going to know anyone? This couldn't be happening. Lunch was going to be off campus for crying out loud. Who would I go with? I felt like I was going to throw up. I left in a daze. By the time I got home, I wanted to be anything but an upperclassman.
Morning came on the first day of my Junior year. The experience of what this year was going to be like, that I had been visualizing all summer, was in the garbage can. I was full of nerves all morning. Getting through math class and French class was not a big deal. I just picked a desk in the back, kept my head down and tried not to sweat. It was coming though. The class right before lunch was Collegio- for normal people you might call it homeroom- with all 60 people in my MN group. This was crucial. I would have to go from this class to lunch, and not a single person had plans to stay on campus for lunch. Was I going to be the only Junior in the lunchroom? I couldn't even think of a dark corner somewhere that I could hole up in for the lunch period. What I didn't know was that I had embarassment of epic proportions coming before lunch.
I picked a desk in the middle of the room, as I needed to spend the next hour looking around and trying to come up with a plan. Would there be anyone who I would be willing to approach about going to lunch? I began to look at the faces around me. Sixty people. I think I felt sweat trickle down my back. One of the teachers asked us to break into small groups for a history exercise. Wait, she didn't say small groups, she said pairs. I looked to either side of me. Everyone in my vicinity turned away from me and paired up people on their other side.

Oh My God.

I frantically searched for anyone to catch my eye- someone. Please. Somewhere. Shit shit shit shit.I think my hands were numb. The teacher looked around to make sure everyone had a pair. Then she said it. "Does anyone not have a partner?"
I was throwing up in my mouth. ohmygod. There were NOT 60 people in my class. There were FIFTY NINE. I had an out of body experience. I felt my arm raise. It may have been shaking. I probably wanted to die. If there was a hole in the earth, I wanted to be in it. Five minutes ago. I felt the blood rush in my ears, drowning out whatever she said next. I think it was something along the lines of "Would someone PLEASE let Andrea be in their group? I will give you 5 extra points if you do. I know you don't know her. Let's consider it a Community Service project, shall we?"
This would be a good time for an earthquake. Or a fire. Somehow, two (actually nice) guys behind me, said I could be in their group. This was horribly miserable. Let's just announce to the entire class that I am a MORON and I SUCK and I HAVE NO FRIENDS. I felt like I had been branded.
I wasn't much help to the 2 guys as I was still pre-occupied with figuring out my lunch hour. Somehow class ended. I wasn't paying attention. People were gathering their things and chatting with their friends. I slowly put my books in my bag and felt like the most retarded Junior ever. Across the room, I saw someone who I knew, but hadn't really spoken with for 2 years. I slumped my shoulders and walked over to her with my bag dragging on the carpet behind me.
Okay, maybe I didn't look that defeated, but it sure felt that way. She was standing with 4 other girls chatting and laughing. I built up some courage from somewhere that I wasn't aware existed and asked what she was doing for lunch. My heart hammered in my head. She very kindly said she was going out and invited me to come along.
Umm...yes! She then introduced me to the other girls. They were surprisingly very nice. I let go a deep breath that I didn't realize I had been holding. The massive insecurity and depressing ache I had been carrying around all morning slowly lifted. We went out. They were nice. They were funny, and they would become my close girlfriends that year. One of them, whom I had met for the very first time that day, would in time, become the best friend I would ever have.
That morning was in fact my worst day of high school. (cue uplifting lusic) Junior year ended up being not so bad (it seriously had nowhere to go but up). I ended up joining the Swim Team that November- because they didn't have tryouts, and nobody got cut! I was told there was this cute guy there from our class who was a good swimmer. I didn't know him, and never would have any classes with him, but when I saw him for the first time...

he in fact

was

pretty cute!

Things were looking up!

We had over 5 hours of soccer fulfillment at one field this weekend. It was about 35 degrees when we arrived at 8:15 in the morning and probably a whopping 40 when we left. I thought they were going to have to remove my toes due to frostbite. Then I came up with a good idea to stay warm: hug Isabelle every time she walked by me. She may have been less than overjoyed.


(can you see it in her eyes? "Please make her stop! Get my mom off me!!")

Isabelle knew that in order to stay warm, she was going to have to make it a physical game.

She is saving a goal from being made in this picture.

She is about to squash this player.

Do you see her arm sneaking up and grabbing the girl in white? I asked her about this later and she had no recollection of it.

I think Isabelle is about to take this girls legs out form under her.

Ball velcros to knee:

We finally made it home after 2 exciting wins. When we got home we had some picking up to do (no big shocker here, since we are never home during the week, we have a lot of catching up to do on the weekends). I won't torture you with the details. Let's just say I used lots of paper towels and windex. I think those 2 items can pretty much clean anything. Everything looks clean when it is shiny. Right? Somehow the piano didn't take too well to the windex.

Just when I thought we had it pretty well taken care of, I looked up and realized we still had our Valentine's decorations up.

Next thing I know, Maria is telling me her ear is plugged, and after 9 days of having a cold, that means a Sunday trip to urgent care (good excuse to leave up the decorations for now!). Confirmed ear infection. Oh and guess what? Apparently our insurance plan has had some changes with the new year, and I had the pleasure of paying $64 for the antibiotics. The same antibiotics that cost me $10 last year. (insert health care debate here)

Well...shoot. When she goes and looks like this, my heart gets all melt-y and I am putty in her hands. I just want her to feel better so I can stop worrying about her and make sure her ears don't hurt anymore. Today I was able to stay home and ask her a 63 times how she was feeling, smoothed her hair back 745 times, asked her to put on a sweatshirt 14 times and told her it was okay to lay down with me as long as she slept on Daddy's side of the bed (I only had to say that once to have her hop right in).

Check this out!

I don't know if this is entirely appropriate. It may be considered stealing or plagiarizing...or something horribly offensive like that for which I will be sent to the Principal's office.

But how about I do it anyway?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

I came across this site: http://www.postsecret.com/ and I pretty much love it.

People send in postcards on which they have written secrets, and they get published to this blog. I thought it was pretty cool- some secrets are heart wrenching, some are funny, and some are uplifting. Some...not so much.

I have posted a few here for you to check out, but let's make sure I don't get in trouble over it and just go check out the website yourself!

Someone will have read that...and they really will take it as a sign and they really will be amazing.

OMG, I love this one!

(My secret? Deep in my heart, down where it is really quiet, i really believe that someday...somehow...i will get to Paris. And when i land, and walk off the plane, and see the city, i know i will cry, because it makes me cry just thinking about it.)

Guest Blogger: Maria, age 11

Disgusting, Crude and Offensive



"Long Division". The words rolled off my tongue in the most unsatisfying way. They came with a stench, with a smell so vile that no smell...not even burning sulfur...could be worse. I had never been a big fan of math: addition, subtraction, and multiplication were all on my Top Ten Most Hated Words List. But long division was now #1. I became more and more frustrated with each digit.



"It's so easy! So Simple" people would say patiently, but with a hint of annoyance in their voices.



"Yeah...says YOU!" I would retort. The numbers always got mixed up. Was it 27 divided by 325, or 32 divided by 275, or 25 divided by 572, or...



Long division spells trouble. "Hey! let me help you get an F in math!" the words seemed to say. If only this was a nightmare, if only I was in kindergarten happily playing house with my friends, and if only I could wake up screaming "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!". If only I wasn't in fifth grade math.



Besides me, everyone had moved on to the challenge work. "Oh my gosh, I am so far behind!" I thought, perspiration dripping down the side of my face. I'm going to FAIL! The thought sent my head spinning.



"Get you head in the game kid!" You can do better than this! Go, go GO!" I whispered as I pictured a mini drill sergeant in my head. Okay...the problem is 325 divided by 27...I think. I chewed my pencil eraser nervously. What am I going to do? I glanced down at my division card with the steps on it.



Alright, let's try this again. Wait a minute, add the 27, write the one, subtract 27, multiply, subtract, add...By Jove I've GOT IT! Twelve, remainder 1! The long awaited LONG DIVISION BREAK THROUGH has happened at last! The rest of the work sheet was easy-breezy-lemon-squeezy-mac-n-cheesy. I glided through the challenge work like a figure skater and I wasn't the last one to turn it in! I am so glad I finally had my LONG DIVISION BREAK THROUGH!



Now long division doesn't bother me that much. I plow through the homework like a pair of oxen, and sometimes my friends even call me for help! But in the beginning I struggled a lot, and it didn't make any sense. So I talked to my AMAZING teachers, and with their help it became as clear as white on rice. Now all I have to say is "Thank you so much!".

My heart hurts

Today was a very blustery day- it reminded me of watching Winnie the Pooh with Isabelle when she was little. We must have watched that movie a thousand times...the leaves blowing...Pooh complaining...Piglet anxious about everything...and Tigger happily oblivious.

After her soccer game today- where the wind just about carried the ball off- I came home and sat down at the computer to try and warm up. I read a few sites that I like to keep up on and I came across a picture of a woman holding her sleeping baby in a snuggli. My thoughts may have gone back to Isabelle again...when she was that little.

I might have welled up at this stranger holding her baby. Unless you think that would be dumb, then I definitely did NOT do that. I felt like I could feel that baby's soft skin. I thought about that mom, who is probably really tired and just wants 10 minutes by herself with no demands. I thought about how I would trade places with her in a heartbeat. It got me to thinking about that 13 year old who I watched play soccer today, and how I can barely remember what she was like at 13 months old.

You know what's coming.

I had to get a blanket and curl up with my photo box. I closed my eyes tightly and put myself back in that apartment we had when she was 10 months old. I could smell the baby powder, I could see the toys in the corner and hear her little voice.

Then my heart turned all gummy and fell out of my chest.

Then I slid off the couch and curled up in a ball because I came across this:


How does this happen? How do those years when each day seems to last 112 hours go by so quickly? When all I did was wash the same dishes over and over again, fold little socks, and accidentally step on the same loud toy every night, disappear like a desert mirage?

How the heck did I end up here:

When she is 30, will I cry when I look at the pictures of her at 13?

Knowing me, probably.

Even seeing her image from 4 years ago, when she just played soccer at school, makes my chest constrict.

Look at those cute braids...her first pair of glasses...those cheeks...(excuse me while I dry my eyes).

...I can't stop...give me a minute...

I just want to reach out and hold her hand.

I am more used to this:

I amused to saying "Go tell your sister it's time for dinner" and she doesn't move, but instead, yells at the top of her lungs "Maaaarrrriiiiaaaa!"

Umm..that's not exactly what I meant...smarty pants. Turn off NCIS and WALK to the stairs and then use your voice. Thank you very much.

Somewhere deep down inside, there are a few dusty memories of a baby with a smile that could melt away those years. Blue eyes that were as deep as the ocean and then some.

Watching her today, I can't even explain how her legs got to be so long. I think about how much she already knows about life and how much more there is for her to learn. She has grand plans for herself, and I couldn't be more proud. She talks about the Peace Corps, and Stanford, and travel, and cooking, and that smile still gets me.

The little girl who had her lovies, "Nordy" and "Baby" (we weren't entirely creative in naming her toys) attached to her hip for years, loved Winne the Pooh, wore the most adorable little snappy onesies, and was always ready for a snuggle...

...now would rather die than hug me in public (which makes it all the more fun to do), reads Jane Austin, has pen-pals in other countries, shares shoes with me, and is looking forward to her first school graduation this year.

I am dying. DYING. I am going to close my eyes now...and concentrate really hard...and when I open my eyes it better be 1998 again.

My throat hurts. My stomach hurts.

If I go into a Babies R Us, do you think they would actually have a baby for me?

Warning: Soapbox Ahead

Watch out people. I went to a Jr. High meeting the other night regarding Honors classes that Isabelle will be taking next year. I was pretty nervous as I know nothing about the public schools in our area or how they work and I want to make sure I get her signed up for everything correctly.

I should have known it was going to be a difficult night when I walked in and there were no seats left. I had to stand for over an hour in my high heels. Nooo, I wasn't dressed up to impress the other parents, I had just come from a funeral. Although, I think I looked pretty impressive. Sad, but impressive.

Until I started shifting my weight from one foot to the other. Then back on the heels...then on one foot. Then the other. At one point I am pretty sure I looked like a flamingo.

So, I was learning about the honors classes. The school district I live in is said to be one of the best. Great. Awesome. I have been hearing this for years. Then, I was dumbfounded with what I heard.

They opened up the meeting by telling us that for years, all of the 6 junior highs had been running their own individual honors programs even though the kids feed into the same 3 highschools. They said that each Jr. High had their own version of what "honors" meant and they had been working for the past year and a half to reform the programs and make them consistent.

What? Everyone was doing their own thing? Within one district? It never occurred to someone to collaborate with the other schools? I had no idea that each school could even have it's own curriculum. No clue.

Parent asks: Why are there no honors science classes in Jr. high? (there are in highschool)

School responds: Because out of all the elementary schools in our district (22), only 2 have designated Science teachers. The other 20 schools may or may not choose to use science kits in their classrooms. Due to this, 7th grade science can be the first science lab some of these kids have ever had- and none of them are ready for honors obviously.

What? Not all kids out there in elementary school are getting science class?? Am I in an episode of the Twilight Zone?

Parent asks: Why do some Jr. Highs have science books from the 1980's, and others from 1994?

School responds: New science curriculums were purchased in 1994 by the school district and not all the teachers liked the new science programs. Those teachers kept the curriculums from the 80's and continue to use those books to this day. Next year (thank GAWWWD) all the Jr. Highs will be using brand new science curriculums.

Umm...seriously? There are kids out there using books that don't even reference the internet, and all of the scientific breakthroughs of the past 25 years???

Parent asks: Why is there no honors History offered in 7th grade?

School responds: Because not all 6th graders have had social studies before, so we teach our State history to all 7th graders as it is a state requirement.

Are they kidding me? Really? Both my kids were taught our state history in 4th grade, and I had kind of assumed that ALL 4th graders were getting this.

Parent Asks: What if my child doesn't qualify for an honors math class in 8th grade? It sounds like they will never be able to take honors math after that because each class builds on the previous one.

School responds: Your child could take an accelerated Algebra 1 class in summer school in order to take honors math in 9th grade. However (and she really said this), you don't want to push your child too much in math. We are seeing a lot of math burnout at the highschool level and the kids will choose not to take math beyond their 10th grade year.

I was throwing up at this point. We don't want to push them??? A 16 year old experiences math burnout? I had the longest stream of expletives running through my brain.

She then said that one of the school board initiatives is to have more kids successfully complete math beyond Algebra 2. That is regular 10th grade math folks. Are we really afraid to tell our kids that they need more math?

The next time I saw Isabelle I told her that she is expected to successfully complete 4 years of HONORS math after this, and 4 years of foreign language, and as much honors english and history that I can shove down her throat.

If my kids want to make a choice in highschool, it will be weather they want to pack their lunch or buy it at school. It will be if they want to wear a coat or not when I make them WALK all 3 blocks to get there. It will be if they want to finish their chores before or after they study for the next week's test.

Day trip with the Teenager

I took Isabelle down south a few hours for a soccer game this weekend. She was kind enough to create her own CD mix for our listening pleasure. A little Shakirah (Gypsy), Christina Perry (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8v_4O44sfjM), BoB (Magic) and Lady GaGa (Telephone). Just the tunes I was going to put together to drive in the relentless rain and fog.

No really, it was fine.

I felt like a morose teenager only minutes after we left the driveway.

We eventually made it- after playing the License Plate game (I was pretending she was 7 again) and we found 14 states and 2 provinces. I think we rocked it. Then we went and got coffee (she was back to being a teenager again).


Remember the "Knee in the Butt" move that Maria was doing? I think I know where she learned it.

The game was cold, misty and foggy. It was a brutal match-up. Although we couldn't quite match the talking back that the other team did, I was okay with that. Everything else was pretty even. Hence the 0 to 0 final score.

Isabelle got to play the whole game as left back. We started out with 2 subs and dwindled to 1 by the end. The other team had 7 subs. I think on a normal full strength day, we could take them (I sort of already know this as we have beaten them twice this year).

On the way home Isabelle wanted to share with me this "Moral Dilemma" thing they were discussing in her Social Justice class. I am all for learning, so I said Bring it! She tells me that 2 kids are going to play a joke on their dad and hide in a closet when he doesn't expect them to be home. Dad returns home, hears a noise, gets his gun opens the closet and shoots, killing one of the kids. What kind of charge do you think he should have for an accidental shooting?

Uh...

Umm...

Could we...

Maybe...

Go back to playing the license plate game????

Who is up for Freeway Bingo???

After I carefully navigated THAT conversation and turned up her CD really loud so we couldn't talk anymore, and we eventually made it home.

Oh yay. The kitchen table is back to being a magnet for everyone's unclaimed personal items. My own Moral Dilemma of sorts. Burn their things so our house is clean, or start duck taping their stuff to their body so they can't leave it anywhere. Welcome Home?

Favorite Things

My favorite things, RIGHT NOW...

They may change by morning, but RIGHT NOW they are pretty awesomely ridiculous.

1) I am reading "The Help", and I can't put it down. So much so that I read late into the night, I make Morrie read it to me while I shower, and Isabelle is cooking breakfast each morning so I have more time to sit with the cat and read.

2) I LOVE to dance while I am driving and embarrass Isabelle as much as humanly possible.

3) Sounders pictures are updated DAILY now that they are in pre-season training. This is seriously exciting. I am sick of the sports page being all about other stuff.

4) The Shellac Manicure that doesn't chip for 2 weeks, who the heck invented this and why didn't they do it sooner?

5) Contessa Sesame Chicken- actually a frozen meal- that is the best tasting thing EVAR. Morrie and I are totally addicted. Seriously, it is frozen. And comes in a bag. And it tastes freakin fantastic.

6) My favorite Sounders soccer players for this season: Hurtado (so happy he has recovered from the awful knee injury - I can't get it out of my mind), Fucito (so happy he has recovered from the awful knee injury), and Alonso (he doesn't follow the trend, he only gets quad injuries). Those are my BIG 3 for this season. However, Flaco is fantastic, I just need to see him start more often, and White may have promise. I will let you know.

7) If that meant nothing to you, it's okay. I would be more than happy to explain it. Our family has been discussing the starting 11 we would like to see this year and which 3 will be the main bench subs. We have been hemming and hawing over who Hurtado will have the best chemistry with when he finally gets to start.

8) We will be reviewing game tapes on Tuesdays and Fridays. Please feel free to stop by. Bring some french fries with you if at all possible.

9) I am loving Puma tennis shoes. I bet you couldn't figure that one out. Size 8 please. I like to have the extra room. My feet are really a 6. Six is what the petite, cute woman wears, and that is totally me. Because you know she has her shit together. Her handbag is clean and organized, her hair looks good, her jeans are a size 2. With room in the butt. Her lipgloss never fades. Yes, I definitely want to be her, so get me those shoes and I will be one step closer to the cuter, size 6 shoe mom , who probably also knows how to cook.

10) I am loving catching up with my girlfriends on the phone. Wait...I haven't used the phone in about 6 months. I don't even remember what my friends SOUND like. Please call me. I think I dreamt about catching up last night. It was nice.

Where IS the phone?

I bleed Soccer

I have been remiss in posting pictures in general and most especially soccer pictures.

Please accept my deepest apologies.

If you don't care for soccer...well...

Why are we even talking non-sense like that? Everyone LOVES soccer. Plus, the "Spring" Season starts tomorrow. The quotes are because I really don't feel like it is spring. It feels more like the dead of winter, but that wouldn't sound very nice.

This game was a pre-dead of winter game.

It was (I kid you not) actually sunny 2 weeks ago. For like an hour. Way out east. But the point is, we were THERE when it happened. It was awesome. I will let Maria be your guide.

Rule #1: When you are small make your personal space bigger by locking your arm out in front of you. You will probably hit them in the gut every time this way.


If they are not in front of you, go ahead and move that locked arm out to whichever side they are coming from. We will refer to this as the "Stiff Arm" move going forward.

Rule #2: Always make sure you provide your mother with a good action moment right in front of her so she doesn't have to move around during the game. Especially when it is sunny and you know Mom really wants to get some good shots.

Rule #3: Elbow in the kidney, knee in the butt. Works like a charm when the "Stiff Arm" can't be utilized.

(you know we don't actually teach her this stuff, right? Oddly, it comes naturally to her)


Repeat #2 often- your mother loves you.

I hope she is elbowing this girl in the gut, because this red head is kicking my BABY in the ankle. Red heads can be soooo unpredictable.

Rule #4: When running from behind to catch another player, just go ahead and pull them back by the shoulder to slow them down.

Really Maria? Really?




I never understood this break in the law of physics. How can Maria's ankle NOT be broken here?

Rule #5: When you get the chance, go ahead and kick them back in the ankle.

That is all the time we have for today folks. Please come by again for another lesson in "Small Soccer Moves That Make a BIG Difference".