Out

Two days before Halloween I realized that we hadn't made it to the pumpkin patch. It was a sunny Monday afternoon and I must have caught Brent in a moment of weakness because he actually seemed excited about hauling the kids out to Lone Pine.

We had never done the corn maze before, and to be honest, I thought it would be boring. But the kids raced ahead of us, shouting directions to each other, shrieking at dead ends, and trampling through mud and fallen corn stalks while we hung back, following their lead. It was peaceful in that corn maze as the sun passed quickly overhead, illuminating the brilliant fall colors around us before sinking quietly into the horizon.

We could have just stayed home, I kept thinking. I could be folding laundry or making dinner right now.  Instead we stayed later than we should have, basking in that perfectly autumn sunset and then had to scramble to get to Sawyer's school for a Halloween party. Once there, the kids scarfed up a bunch of candy since we hadn't made it home for dinner. We came home starving and past bedtime, but it was totally worth it.

Halloween 2013. We are so totally outnumbered by the kids.



But at least we have this guy.

And then there was the annual Play in the Rain Day at Mount Pisgah (we have been four times and it has never once rained). I texted a friend to see if she and her kids would be there. Our exchange went something like this:

Me: Are you guys going to Pisgah today?
Friend: Yes! But first to the Laboratory for the Bloody Mary bar. Join us?

Approximately ten minutes pass before I see this reply. I can't hear my phone over the howling of simultaneous time outs and babbling baby. Everyone is still in their pajamas. Brent is hiding in the backyard under the pretense of doing yardwork.

Me: Kids are too crazy. Don't think we're gonna make it.

And this is where I realize that it really does take a village to raise children. It takes a village because what my friend texted me next was a quick slap upside the head that pretty much saved the day.

Friend: NOOOOOO! You must leave the house! I promise it will all be better if you just LEAVE THE HOUSE. I will buy you a Bloody Mary...

Thank you, village.

Were my kids still crazy when we got to the restaurant? Yes.
Was the Bloody Mary bar everything I had hoped it would be? Yes. And more. Bacon?

 I could have stayed home to fold laundry. Thank god I have my priorities straight.

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One

Dear Clementine,
I felt you missing long before you were born. I couldn't put my finger on it right away, but somehow, as years passed, I knew that there was a little girl out there waiting for me. And then you came and instantly our family felt complete.

You are loved by so many people. Sometimes that love is a bit overwhelming for you, but I trust you'll grow to appreciate the spotlight you were born into.

You are our sweetest baby. When the boys were your age, I felt like they were on a mission to destroy the house. You just want to look at everything.

My aunt Bobbi sent me this funny doll that my mom made long ago. It's a cloth mama doll with all her babies in a basket and they all have these weird pinched faces. I studied this doll and her accessories and had to wonder what my mom was thinking when she made this. I didn't know what else to do with her and so I put it on the shelf in your bedroom.

And then I saw you playing with her, you would take the babies out and inspect them before placing them back into the basket. Somehow it all made sense to me in that moment. My mom made that silly doll for you.
 

We had your birthday party at a bar because that's the kind of family you were born into. You didn't seem to mind. You weren't even really that interested in the cupcake we gave you, but when you received a soft white stuffed bunny, you were absolutely thrilled.

You came into our family at such a perfect time. There is so much kid energy in our lives right now. You fit right in.

You took your first steps today. You are well on your way to becoming a toddler and I know that if I blink too many times, you'll be in kindergarten. And while I can't wait to see what kind of five-year-old you will be, I do want these baby years to slow down, please. You are my last baby. Please don't grow up too fast.

Happy first birthday, Clementine.

Your family loves you so.

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Team Benchwarmer

I never played soccer when I was a kid.

I know, I know. What kid didn't play soccer? Well, me. The kid who was tall and gangly and afraid of the ball. I was that kid. I still am. When you lack hand-eye coordination and don't like things being thrown or kicked at you, you're pretty limited in the sports you can play. And if you don't care about winning or losing or being part of a team, maybe you're doing everyone a favor by staying on the sidelines.

7th grade me showed a serious lapse in good judgement by signing up for basketball, which was really just a precursor for all of the judgement lapses that would soon hallmark my teenage years. Anyway. It didn't take long for me, or the coach for that matter, to realize that I had no business being out there on that basketball court. I'm not sure why my teammates didn't hire out a hitman to bust up my kneecaps or at least vote me off the team, which really would have been the humane thing to do. Instead I played. Well, I "played" if by "playing" you mean that I shuffled up and down the court and ducked/cringed whenever the ball came near me.

Alas, no valuable life lesson was learned and in the spring I volunteered to be on the softball team. That was much less humiliating since I could just strike out quickly and return to the bench. I think- my memory of middle school grows mercifully hazier as the years pass- that we may have even won some sort of championship, no thanks to me, of course.

And then I married Brent. A real soccer guy. He knows and loves the game and I'll never forget the first time I saw him play indoor soccer because he is an actual athlete, who becomes a completely different person when he steps onto the field. Soccer Brent is super aggressive and loud and smells much worse than Regular Brent.

Now I recognize that same intensity and drive in Jack. He flies up and down that field. His eye never leaves the ball. And even though you don't technically keep score in first grade soccer, he wants so badly to win.



It's not about winning and losing when you play first grade soccer. You're supposed to learn about being part of a team and practicing good sportsmanship and all that feel-good stuff that gives kids like me false hope about their athletic futures. Jack will sit patiently through the team-building exercises and play Red Rover over and over and over again, but all he really wants to do is play soccer.

I'll never have that drive. I'll never feel that competitive intensity that pushes you to play to win. But I will have the sidelines.

Being the working parent means you sometimes feel disconnected from your kids' schools. I worried about that in the beginning, especially since we live across town from our school. Would I get to know the other parents? Would I feel like I belonged?

I've spent the last month watching Brent out on the field in coach mode while Sawyer runs with the other little brothers and sisters who will probably be on his soccer teams someday. I've been a big contributor to the official sideline chatter. I've shared shared snacks and blankets and cheered for kids who we'll know for at least the next 11 years. And while I've watched Jack's circle of friends expanding, I've made new friends of my own.

The last soccer game of the season was a relief, no more evening practices that leave us sitting down to a rushed dinner at 7, no hustle out the door to make a 9am Saturday game. But I have to admit that it's also a bit of a letdown. I have learned to love the game, too.

But only from the sidelines.

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Non Sequitur

1. Thanks to Pandora's Halloween Party station, Sawyer had his first exposure to Michael Jackson's "Thriller." This kid loves to dance and, let's face it, who doesn't want to dance like a zombie while decorating the house for Halloween? Not me. 

It turns out (this will NOT surprise some of you) that I was actually better at doing the Thriller dance before I watched the YouTube instructional video. Whatevs. Choreography is not for everyone.

2. Why don't more adults throw themselves birthday parties? Grown up parties are so much more fun than kid parties. No gift bags, no pinatas, just booze and a lotta cake.

3. I live in fear that people refer to these two as the "Ross boys" as in "Stay away from those Ross boys." So when they manage to play together without throttling each other, it's a photo worthy experience.

4. My rough and tumble, toothless, dirty kneed boy wanted more than anything to go to the ballet. He cleans up nicely, don't you think?

5. And then there was the sun.

6. A half day at my school meant an afternoon of volunteering in Jack's first grade class. I dropped Sawyer off at preschool on my way and was reminded that we never submitted our family photo for the "Special Friends" book. Damn.

So over the three day weekend I was determined to get a picture of the five of us. How hard could it be? People do this all the time.

We should have gone to Sears.

7. Brent and I collaborated on a ridiculously awesome pizza. Chevre, garlic, red onions, and pineapple. We ate the whole thing, just the two of us. I regret nothing.

8. Apple picking is a lot easier than blueberry picking. 50 pounds in thirty minutes. Hell yeah.

9. Obvi too busy to come up with any substantial blogging material. C'est la vie. I've got applesauce to make. And awkward family photos to take. Happy fall!

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