The Soccer Series - Part IV

The Snack-Nazi

A Snack-Nazi is someone who, with all good intentions, takes over the half-time snack and the end-of-game snack distribution schedule. I once read in an old book called "A Yankee Hobo In The Orient" that if you give a relatively nice person a bit of power you can say good-bye to that relatively nice person. This held true for the once nice lady who took over the snacks. The first thing she did was to make a list of all the parents - whether they volunteered to supply snacks or not - including the coaches wife (i.e., me) and assigned them dates to bring snacks. Then she gave each parent "The List". The list contained two columns - one side had "Suggested Approved Snacks", the other side simply read "Unacceptable". She gave me The List and to my surprise, I was the first one scheduled to bring snacks! Not only did I have to remember to bring the score book, cold water, the goalie nets, soccer balls, the first aid kit, ice packs, bee-stink rub, the kids and the coach with his whistle (jk)- now I had to bring snacks. And not just whatever snack was on sale, but approved snacks. I kid you not, tofu was an approved snack. I lost the list and brought grapes and granola for half-time and lemon ice and Hi-C for after the game. Whole grapes were not approved because they were a choking hazard and granola was not approved because it may contain nuts and some kids may be allergic. Lemon ice and Hi-C were not even on her radar, they were neither approved nor unacceptable. After the game, I was stripped, permanently, from the list and from ever having to bring snacks again. Mission accomplished . . .

The Soccer Series - Part III

The Most Important Element

I hope some of you mom's will understand and appreciate this post. . .

For me the most important element of getting my children to play soccer was not teaching them to play well with others, my kids did that already. It was not to get them up off the couch and outdoors, my kids used to beg me to let them sleep outdoors. It was not to teach them coordination, my kids used to roller blade around the dining room table and living room furniture with ease. It certainly was not about the plastic soccer trophy, my son used his for target practice. And it was not to teach them how to work together as a team, my kids frequently teamed up together to go after me! No, for me it was all about that coveted soccer photo! You know the ones, with your child standing next to the soccer ball, with dirty shin guards on (to make it look like they played hard) and the green soccer field behind them. That was the reason I signed my kids up to play soccer. I wanted wallet size pictures of my children with a soccer ball, in uniform, to show my family and friends. Little did I know that my middle daughter would refuse to smile for her picture because she was mad at me. She was 6 and she told me, "You made my hair look bad. I'm mad." I begged, I pleaded, I bribed, I yelled and I even explained, "Even if someone paid me a million dollars to make your hair look bad, I would have to tell 'I'm sorry, I can't take your money because I can't make my daughter's hair look bad, even for a million dollars'." Nothing worked. So at the soccer field, all the soccer mom's were like, "Come on honey, say 'ca-ching', smile." I had had it at this point and I yelled at the photographer, "It's my $8.95 and if that child does not want to smile, so be it - take the dang picture!" And so she did. . .




. . . my coveted photo . . . my gem . . .

The Soccer Series - Part II

Ca-Ching

The first year of soccer for daughter number 2 was not as successful as daughter number 1. No. 1 loved running after the ball and kicking it. No. 2 loved running after the ball and letting someone else kick it. My husband was No. 2's coach and he and every mom of every child on that team tried to get her to kick the ball. I was seldom able to come to games as daughter No. 2 played on a different team. So, I showed up at one of the games in it's 3rd quarter and No. 2, I was told, did not kick the ball once. The other soccer mom's were all so sweet and tried to encourage her. My husband tried everything. So, I went over to my daughter and whispered in her ear. The other soccer mom's were sympathetic, but unconvinced I would be able to get my daughter to kick the ball. The whistle blew and the kids went running out onto the field. My daughter, smiling at me, ran out onto the field, too. She ran right over and kicked that ball. It doesn't matter where the ball went, it was the fact that she kicked it. The team went wild, the soccer mom's were jumping up and down and screaming. It was so exciting. And then, my daughter kicked the ball again and again and again. Now all the soccer mom's wanted to know what pearls of wisdom I whispered to my daughter to get her to kick that ball. I said proudly, "I told her every time she kicked the ball she'd get a quarter. 4 kicks and I'd take her to the Dollar Store." So, every time she kicked the ball one soccer mom jumped up and yelled, "Ca-ching!!"

The Soccer Series - Part I

The First Practice

Thirteen 5 and 6 year old children signed up for Whistle Soccer. They came to their first ever soccer practice adorned with little soccer cleats, shin guards and no knowledge of the game itself. The coach, a wonderful man, gathered the children around him and said, "Welcome to your first soccer practice. When I blow the whistle the first thing I want you to do is run around the soccer field, run in circles around each other until I blow the whistle again." Now imagine this scene - 13 kids running around each other on a soccer field - it still plays like a video in my head. This is what it was like. It was a beautiful and clear, sunny day. Some kids ran, screaming, around and around in circles. Some kids stood quietly at the edge of the field. One kid stopped to look for 4-leaf clovers in a clover patch. One little boy accused a little girl of punching him. One girl got stepped on and an other got kicked. One kid ran out of bounds, right to his very anxious mother. One kid needed to stop to get a "puff" on his inhaler. One MOTHER ran on the field to run along side her daughter. One kid stood in the goalie's net. Someone got stung by a bee. Someone's dog barked and growled and lunged at passing children. And then the coach blew his whistle. He said, "This is what a soccer game is like, only thing is, in a game there is a soccer ball on the field." And so began our 6 years of watching (and coaching) our children play soccer. In case you're wondering, my daughter is the one who got stepped on . . .

M & M

Daughter number 1 has this. . .this. . .uh. . .quirky (for lack of a better word, which he'll be sure to point out) friend. He's very interesting, but I never know if he's "for real." Sometimes, I just don't "get" him. For instance, he came to the door one day and said, "Do you want to see my goats?" I'm thinking, "Is he for real?" He says, "They're in the car." So I said, "Oh, that's funny. I get it. I'll go out to see the 'goats' and my daughter will be like, where's my mother? And you'll be like, I don't know, she said something about going to see the goats in my car - pfft. And the two of you will get a big kick out of it. You can't make a fool out of me!" So, he's all like, "Hmm, I didn't realize you were so suspicious. But, I have to admit, that'd a been a good one." Okay, so this quirky friend of my daughter really did have goats in the car (who does that??) and I'm learning to "get" him a little better. Actually, just give him a cup of regular coffee at 10 pm and he'll talk up a storm. So, he was over last night and he asked (very boldly I may add) if we had a new New Year's alliteration for 2009. He was slightly amused by the "balance and boundaries" resolution that lasted for 3 years and down right giddy over the "healing and harmony" of last year. So, here's our 2009 New Year's resolution alliteration - I hope you like it quirky goat boy - "Manners and Meekness".

9 Lessons From My Father

1. You don't have to be a great athlete to be a good sport.

2. Don't lie because if you do, you'll have to remember it for the rest of your life, lest you be caught. A lie becomes something you must carry always, and it weighs heavy on your heart.

3. Be kind to strangers. God loves a happy giver.

4. You don't have to be a beauty to be beautiful.

5. Save the insults for later, you'll be glad you did.

6. Be generous with your compliments and affection.

7. A good listener learns more than a great speaker.

8. Volunteer -it helps you appreciate what you have.

9. If you need help, ask God, if you don't, thank God.

My father taught me that if you don't have anything nice to say, then you shouldn't say anything at all.

Happy Pi Day!!!!

Daughter number 2 made this chocolate pie today in celebration of Pi Day.

You gotta love a kid who does that!

Delayed Gratification

When my daughter turned 8 she received a check from her grandparents. She wanted to spend the money on an American Girl Doll, Felicity. The check equaled the amount of the doll. Being that she was 8, my husband and I decided to use this as a teaching tool in delayed gratification and decision making. We took her to the calendar and told her that if in 6 months she still wanted the doll and if she didn't spend the money on anything else, she would indeed be able to get her doll. Her birthday was November 18th - the date to order the doll was May 18th. Every month the 18th was clearly marked in red with "__ months till Felicity." Every month we discussed the whole concept of being sure before spending your money, delayed gratification and so on. . . it was torturous for my daughter. On May 18th we ordered Felicity. On May 26th the doll came. What a glorious day for our family as we celebrated the arrival of Felicity. How happy my daughter was and how satisfied my husband and I felt that we taught a valuable lesson to our first born. We all stuck with the plan even though it was hard. Pride and gratification were everywhere. May 27th is our other daughter's birthday. To our delight a birthday package arrived for daughter number 2 who was turning 6. It was from a family that had been devastated by an accident. We cared for one of the children while the mother was in a coma for several months. We all excitedly gathered around daughter number 2 as she opened her gift. Imagine our surprise at seeing a Felicity doll . . . daughter number 1 still sulks about that. . . .

The Gift

I've got another story to tell - I wasn't going to tell it, but I just can't help it.

It all began when Pop-Pop and Grammy (really Grammy) decided to move out of their home of 45 years. Grammy called my sister-in-law and asked her to come and take what she wanted from the house - and my sister-in-law did . . . 3 times . . . once with 2 cars. Then Grammy called the antique dealer and asked him to come and take what he wanted, and he did. Then Grammy called the local junk man and asked him to take what he wanted, and he did. Then Grammy called The Salvation Army and asked them to take what they wanted, and they did. Then Grammy called me . . . and asked me come and take what I wanted . . . and I did not. I did not want to pick through her junk. On the day before they moved I went to their house, that is my husband's childhood home, and made sure their boxes were packed and labeled. On the day they moved I was there to direct the movers, sweep the floors, load their car and take out the last of the garbage. That's when Grammy said, "I have something for you in the kitchen closet." My heart raced with anticipation as I thought she really did have something especially for me. I gladly went to the closet and found a large trash bag there. I slowly walked over to the bag and untied it . . . and I could not believe what was in it. Toilet paper. The bag was filled with rolls of toilet paper. As I type this, it still stings. A friend of mine said I should have sent her a thank you note that says, "Thanks for the toilet paper. Every time I go to the bathroom I think of you." I almost wish I could do that....................

You Fail

My daughter is fond of telling me, "You fail." Humpf. . . I do not! When I didn't answer her email immediately she said, "You fail at answering my emails." And when I was late picking her up she said, "You fail at being on time." And when I burned the muffins, she said, "You fail at baking." So when she told me, "You fail at sending care packages," I said, "I do not!" Then she told me what other parents send their college students. "My friends get homemade cookies and brownies and potato chips and soda." Oh, okay, so maybe I do fail a little at sending care packages, because I did not send cookies, brownies, potato chips or soda. No, I sent her Lysol Wipes, vitamin C, green tea, whole-grain pretzels, natural granola bars, cheese, dried mangoes and two pairs of socks. In my defense, the granola bars had a layer of chocolate on them and the socks had cute little red hearts on them, with chubby little cupids . . . so . . . yeah . . . okay, I totally fail.........

The Jokester

When most children are 5 they can recite the alphabet - my kids, they could recite jokes on topics from hotels to mother-in-laws to drunks. I used to tell them when we went out to story hour, "Don't repeat those jokes that Pop-Pop told you, not everyone will think they are funny." We, one the other hand, loved them. . . it's what made Pop-Pop, Pop-Pop. When we went to restaurants he'd make funny faces when the server turned around, never letting them catch him. My kids cracked up, only to confuse the poor server. My kids knew how to play the straight man. If Pop-Pop said, "I once had a goat who didn't have a nose." My kids knew to ask, "How did he smell?" To which Pop-Pop would say, "Pretty bad." Here are a few of his (and our) personal favorites.

I went to the doctor and he told me I was overweight, so I said I'd like a second opinion and he said, "Okay, you're ugly, too."

My doctor told me that if I wanted to improve my love life I should run 5 miles a day. I called my doctor a month later and he asked me, "How's your love life?" I said, "I don't know, I'm 150 miles away from home."

I went to a psychiatrist and told him, "Nobody listens to me." The psychiatrist said, "Next!"

I said, "Doc, it hurts when I go like this." He said, "then don't do that."

When I was in the war the Captain said, "Fire at will." When I wasn't shooting the Captain asked me why. I told him I didn't know who Will was.

When I was in the Navy I saved the lives of everyone on board ship. . .I shot the cook.

When I was in the Navy I got wounded and went to the hospital, there I took a turn for the nurse. . .I mean the worse.

Do you know the definition of a mother-in-law? The F.B.I. in bloomers.

I take my wife everywhere, but she keeps finding her way back.

I just got back from a pleasure trip - I took my mother-in-law to the airport.

I was on the bus the other day and saw a woman crying. I asked her why she was crying and she said, "The bus driver told me my baby was ugly." I said, "Don't cry and here is a banana for your monkey."

The hotel I stayed at was noisy. All night long some girl was banging on my door. . .finally, I had to let her out.

The hotel clerk said I had a room with running water. "Like heck," I said, "I ain't sleeping with no Indian."

"I almost went into the Ladies Room. I thought it said Laddies."

Pop-Pop used to say, "The fun is in the re-telling." Well. . . Pop-Pop had a lot of fun!! If you could measure a man's worth by the amount of times he cheered someone's heart and made them laugh, then Pop-Pop was the wealthiest man to ever live. We'll miss him......