Tee Ball

Me and My Team

Scout

Pretty sure I've told you several times about tee ball, but I finally got the camera with us to a game and my sweetie snapped some pics for you. When I signed Scout and Curly up for Tee Ball in the same league, I didn't realize just how often our games would be scheduled at the same time. We are more than halfway through the season and tonight was the first time I've had the opportunity to watch Curly play. (If you remember, I'm coaching Scout's team and my sweetie aka "the awesome-ist guy in the world" is coaching Curly's team.

Our game was pretty uneventful. Scout was her usual amazing self near the pitcher's mound and Taco played first base. They have a great thing going that you don't usually see in tee ball. Scout fields the ball and then tosses it to Taco and the batter is out. Not that it matters, nobody is ever really out in tee ball. And Burrito loves to chase after the ball. He has been know to totally tackle his own team mates just to be the one to get the ball.

Burrito with Taco in the background

After our games was over, we headed over to Curly's game where they were just taking the field. To keep the little ones from getting bored, the coach is supposed to recruit someone to practice with them in the outfield while the game is going on. Even though he has tons of parent support, that job generally becomes his.

Taco

Since I was there, my sweetie asked me to help Curly with his turn in the infield. Now I try to be enthusiastic then the kids will be excited about the game, so when they are fielding the ball I yell, and when they are throwing the ball I yell, and when they are batting, I yell the loudest. So Curly and I were standing there, waiting for the kid to hit the ball to us so Curly could throw it to first.

Only that's not what happened. The boy smacked the ball into right field. I immediately started yelling, "Get the ball! Get the ball!" and Curly took off running. Unfortunately, so did the little guy who was running from first to second. They had a horrible collision with both of them running at top speed!

Curly

It took me about three more batters before I could get Curly's tears to stop. Then he picked up a ball and threw it to first and actually made an out. He was so excited! When the second to last batter came to the plate, he popped the ball up just slightly over Curly's head. I wanted him to field another one since he had done such a great job with the last one, so I grabbed at the ball. Unfortunately, instinct took over and I actually caught the ball.

Smacking the ball

Some of the parents weren't too happy.

But most of them didn't care...the little guy ran the bases for a home run anyway.

That's tee ball!

Running to first!

A Little Exercise

You know, I've been a little depressed this week. Maybe it's this sugar challenge thing. In all my 47 years, I don't believe I've ever been four weeks without a single sweet treat. I thought by now I should have dropped at least a couple of pounds, but standing on my scale still doesn't make me smile.

I thought eating more healthy might make me want to exercise more regularly. And it's working for some of us. Teach has suddenly been inspired to try to run a 5K.She ran two miles on the treadmill yesterday! I run a quarter of a mile and I'm huffing and puffing. Even the little ones are excited about exercise.

I was sitting at my desk earlier today and I heard giggling from my sweet little Baby Doll. She and the Dog Walker and Scout were playing Just Dance and the song was Cotton-Eyed Joe. For some reason she thought that was so funny! I snapped a few pictures of them for you. They like exercise.

I'm just having a hard time getting myself motivated. I read an article by the blogging queen, C. Jane, in the newspaper today and, get this, she woke up early in the morning because her body told her she needed to go for a walk! The only kind of walk my body wants to take at that time of day is a quick trip to the bathroom!

Seriously though, any suggestions? I love basketball, but I can't play every day. I know it sounds dumb, but just going for a walk feels like such a waste of time when I have so many other things demanding my attention.

You remember TV back in the 60s? When some of those women wanted to exercise, they stood on on a machine where a huge rubber band shook their entire backside? I want to know if those work. They look way more fun than the treadmill and all of these women look pretty skinny. I couldn't possibly wear the little hat though...

Pic Credit

Presidents' Day

Yesterday we visited Grandma and she has lots more snow than we do. (I know, a two-hour ride, just to go sledding...)

We left Baby Doll and Drama Queen with Grandma and headed for our favorite spot at the flood dam, but as soon as we turned onto the road my sweetie knew it was a mistake. The wheels started spinning in the soft powdery snow and we were totally stuck! "OK, all the big people in the back!" he called. After we moved everyone around and I sat in the driver's seat to steer, he and the Dog Walker got out to push.

Prima Donna and Curly

Princess and Crafty

There was NO WAY we were getting that van out! Thankfully, after about five minutes somebody in a big truck stopped and pulled us out. Not that it was easy, he had to switch chains and get on dry pavement before he could pull our big van out.

Sport

So we started looking for a new place to sled...one where we could park on dry ground. We drove around for about 20 minutes and finally found this hill where someone had driven a vehicle a few times and the tire tracks had packed the snow nicely for us.

Dog Walker

The only problem was that the tracks led directly onto the highway. So my sweetie parked the van right at the bottom of the tracks and told the kids it was better to smack into the van than run into the highway.
(Not that it turned out to be a problem, nobody got within 10 feet of the van.)

I wasn't really planning to sled, but you can see that I finally succumbed to their persuasion and I had a great time going down with Curly and Scout.

Me and Curly

 Even my sweetie got into the action.

The walk back up...

And when we were finished we headed back to Grandma's for a wonderful lunch. She even made us four different cherry desserts in honor of Presidents' Day.

And how was your holiday?

Big Brothers

 
I think everyone ought to have a big brother. Not one just a little older who can pick on you and get you into trouble…one that’s way older, like 15 – 20 years older. I’m pretty sure I told you that my youngest four kids don’t remember when the Gym Rat lived at home.

He’s pushing 25 and he comes around about once a week to get his “kid” fix. He does “tricks” with the kids like flipping them over, tossing them on the couch, tipping them upside down and letting them walk on the ceiling…you get the idea. And they LOVE it! Whenever he comes through the door they all run to him and hang on his legs, hoping to be the first one to be picked up and tossed around. Even 11-year-old Crafty gets in line.

Remember I told you about the Tonka trucks the kids race around and around my living room and through my kitchen? Well, yesterday the Gym Rat came up with a new trick. He had them put on long pants and socks and then he grabbed their hands and pulled them across the slick hardwood floors from the entryway through the kitchen and into the dining room. It was a little like skating and about as dangerous! They laughed and giggled and chased until the Gym Rat had sweat running down his face. No need to go to the gym! He’s got his own willing weights right here.

Tonka Trucks

I’ve told you before that I have a church pew in my living room. It’s handy for extra seating and it’s always a great conversation piece. One thing I hadn’t anticipated when my sweetie insisted that we place it in the living room was that it would be a great place for storage! With all these kids, we have LOTS of toys. Some of their very favorites are these big yellow Tonka trucks.

They are the old-style ones, all made of metal and virtually indestructible. As you can see, even Sport can still fit his 8-year-old bottom in one without it falling apart. As soon as the kids are big enough to walk (and sometimes before), they start pushing around these trucks. By the time they can walk, the trucks zoom round and round the circle that is my living room and kitchen.

When Sport was younger, he took a pic of Curly “riding” in one when he was just a few days old. It won a couple of levels in the Reflections contest I told you about a few days ago. Maybe I can get Teach to find it when she gets home. Baby Doll also loves riding in the trucks as long as she is being pushed by someone who isn’t a crazy driver. (Note to Dog Walker: take it easy on the corners…)

Even though the noise level rises a couple of decibels, I love it when they chase the trucks around and around. I think it’s fantastic exercise. It teaches them how to handle a roadway and get along. I’ve seen many cases of “road rage” and it isn’t pretty, but it is resolved quickly…wih NO guns! Just a pinched finger or two.

Kienbock's Disease

I think I’ve told you before that my amazingly cool autistic son, the Dog Walker is trying to earn ALL the Merit Badges. It’s been a crazy ride for the last 6 years. We are down to only 7 left and he will pass off one more this afternoon. One of the most difficult ones for him has been Water Sports. We are not boat people. We have always enjoyed our fishing from the shore on nice stable ground. The kids have been boating several times with the neighbors and they all seem to love it! We have one particular neighbor who has been kind enough to take the kids out several times. He lets them go tubing and he has tried his best to teach the Dog Walker to water ski. I’m sure you’ve noticed that the Dog Walker is a big kid. If he had learned to use the skis when he was 8, he probably wouldn’t have any trouble getting up on them…but trying to learn when you are 16 and 300 pounds is much more difficult.

To make things even worse, the Dog Walker suffers from something called Kienbock’s Disease. That means that one of the bones in his lower arm is longer than it should be, effectively choking off and killing one of the smaller bones in his wrist. We discovered this disorder when he was 16. He was just finishing up his last and most successful (by a long shot) season of pee-wee football. He had been playing Center and without any specific injury, his wrist started to hurt. We figured once football was over, that his wrist would return to normal, but it didn’t.

He complained of random pain all through November and December. In January, his church friends joined a basketball team and invited him to play. He agreed, but each week the pain got progressively worse. By the end of the basketball season, he could hardly dribble the ball. It was time to see a doctor…then a specialist. The diagnosis was made and after several weeks (so he could finish the Scuba Diving badge), they put him in a cast. Nothing was broken, but the cast would give it a couple of months to rest. Then hopefully the swelling would go down and we could avoid surgery that might not work. If the tiny bone collapsed, his wrists would have to be permanently fused. The problem with the surgery was that the doctor would have to go in and shorten that bone which may or may not solve the problem. And if he made a tiny mistake, the surgery could also force him to permanently fuse the wrist. None of the recommended procedures were guaranteed.

Picture Credit

The Dog Walker was born with the extra length in his bone and it was likely that the pushups from football made the problem flare up. The doctor recommended no more football. We were crushed! We all had high hopes of him playing on our amazing high school team. Instead he joined the Marching Band (but that’s a subject for a different post). He wore the cast for six weeks and then a partial cast for six more. When he finally took the cast off, his pain had mostly disappeared. Not that the disorder is gone. He may never be able to do pushups again and he has to be careful when he works out in the gym, but so far, so good.

Just yesterday he passed off one of the Merit Badges that we were particularly worried about, Climbing. They managed it in a climbing gym with the Gym Rat doing the belaying. Now the Dog Walker only has three physically challenging ones left, Backpacking, Water Sports, and Cycling. For Cycling, he is taking advantage of an inaugural program at the Miller Motorsports Park here in Utah. They are allowing cyclists who raise at least $150.00 for their charities to ride as many miles as they want on their 3-mile racetrack that is used for car races. The Dog Walker is so excited! The final requirement for the Cycling badge is a 50-miler! We are excited because he will be able to ride in a safe environment with many people around to act as his support team (since none of us are really capable of riding 50 miles with him).

If you would like to help him reach his goal of $150.00 before the race next Saturday, please click on this link. He is still some short, but hopeful. Any little amount will help. Pretend you can’t see my last name on his page…remember, we are still trying to be just a tiny bit incognito. Thanks!

Flag Boy

Today is the CountryFest parade! Bossy has already admitted that she is a parade addict. I enjoy a good parade (if they throw lots of free stuff and it’s not too hot, and I have a comfy place to sit…), but mostly I like the bands. When I was in Jr. High, I played the clarinet in the marching band. Every summer, we would spend many days practicing and then we would march in at least four or five parades. 

I’ve made it rather mandatory in our family for our kids to have a similar experience with our local high school band and this year my dancers (Princess and the Prima Donna) are taking their turn marching and blowing their horns. Bossy was no problem, she plays the clarinet, multiple types of saxophones…you get the idea. She was on the Band Council and she won scholarships in music. 

The Gym Rat never fancied himself as musical. He tried the clarinet for a VERY short while in elementary school after they told him he couldn't play the saxophone because his hands were too small (they should see them now!). When he got to middle school, I let him slide by singing in the choir, so when high school came along, I was having a rough time figuring out how to get him into the marching band. Then my sweetie came up with a brilliant beyond brilliant plan. It was 2001 and the PS2 (a video game platform) had recently been released. The Gym Rat wanted one of them more than he wanted to breathe! But he was short on funds and he wasn’t old enough to get a real job. So his dad bribed him into joining the Colorguard. If he would spin a flag for an entire season, in November we would buy him a PS2. 

Gym Rat's yearbook photo and "Flag Boy"

Now my Gym Rat was a big kid! I don’t think he had all of his height then (he’s currently 6’ 6"), but he was not a skinny little dancer sort. He was a big play-football-on-the- offensive-line sort of a guy. And believe it or not, he went for it! At our school in 2001, it was rare for any guy to join the Colorguard and for a guy like the Gym Rat, it was unheard of…Honestly, I didn’t think he would last the whole season. In fact, my pocketbook was depending on it. 

Bossy and her rifle.

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**Editor's Note: Apparently at this point in the story I am supposed to be upset that I haven't been mentioned and insert this picture.  First of all I am sorry these yearbook scanned photos are not the best.  This was my senior year and I opted to switch from band to guard too. I thought it would be fun to spin with the Gym Rat and it was the first time our school was using sabres.  In our area Gym Rat started a Flag Boy trend for several years. And Teach was far better at guard than both of us...

He started with summer band and spun his flag in several parades. Surprisingly, he was quite good. The girls were so proud of him; they put him right in the middle and made a big deal of their "flag boy." When fall marching band began he was stuck on the field for three hours three nights a week with the band. The Colorguard also had an additional practice and then they had games or competitions as well. There were some days when he was gone with the band for six nights a week. Yet he persisted. 

Once when I asked him how he could stand to have people teasing him about being on the guard, he said, "They won’t remember forever…kids have better stuff to worry about." At least he had a good attitude. His fall performance was amazing! He had a duet with one of the girls where they did a swing dance together. He did a great job throwing her around and showing off his manly muscles. The Monday after fall season was officially over, my sweetie took the Gym Rat to buy his beloved game system. I’d never seen him work so hard for something in his entire life, and even though he took some ribbing from his friends, I was proud of him for his willingness to complete what he started. 

Although I have to say, he was wrong about one thing... Just yesterday I was in the Jiffy Lube and I ran into one of his old friends. "Yeah, I know your son," he said. "We played football together…" I was a little confused for a moment. "You mean peewee football?" I asked. "The Gym Rat didn’t play high school ball." He smiled. "Yeah, I know," he paused. "He was a flag boy with the marching band." There are some things that are just too good to forget.

If you look close you can see Gym Rat in the first picture on this post.

Just One More

I’ve told you before how my sweetie has this thing for trees…(just like kids) he always thinks there’s room for one more. With the kids that’s been no problem, but with the trees, well, we’ve had a few issues. First we had the pear trees. There were two of them, and they we skinny little spindly things that each produced about 8 pears every season. They were also very needy and after about 4 seasons, they both died a premature death during a particularly cold winter. 

Random photo of Scout and Curly (but it's cute, don't you think?)

Then there was the peach tree. It was amazing! It grew quickly and produced huge delicious peaches nearly every year. Sadly, that’s what did it in. One season the peaches were so numerous and so heavy that the whole tree cracked right down the middle. We pulled it out the next spring. The apple trees were next. The one in the backyard became blighted and died the same winter as the pear trees. We had four beautiful columnar apple trees that threw their harvest onto the neighbor’s driveway. He was all too happy to help us pull them out a couple of years ago. 

Redbud pic credit

Just lately we have another problem. About ten years ago my sweetie planted a beautiful redbud in a raised flowerbed on the corner of the driveway. What were we thinking!? Now that we have five drivers living in the house not counting Grandpa, parking is at a premium. Our garage is full of bikes, Power Wheels, camping gear, and the Drama Queen’s stuff, so it is no help at all. It was finally time to pull out the redbud. 

We had actually talked about this event several years ago and my sweetie vetoed the idea. Then last summer when Grandpa moved in, my sweetie relented and I vetoed the idea. But this time the only one trying to chain herself to the tree was the Prima Donna. (I think she was really just looking for an excuse to get out of her chores…although she swears that isn’t true!) 


So early one Saturday morning, my sweetie and the Dog Walker dragged out the chainsaws and left us a five-foot high stump. It was truly an eyesore! After a couple of weeks of bad weather, they eventually got back to the task. With shovels and the pickaxe, they chopped and stabbed at the huge roots growing from the bottom of the stump. 

After three or four days of back-breaking labor and quite a few blisters, they tied a strap around the trunk. They attached the other end to our rust-colored 70 Chev pickup and proceeded to pull. The strap broke immediately! They decided to dig for a couple more days. A kind neighbor drove by and took pity on them. He offered his huge truck and a real chain, so on Monday morning, he came over. Sadly, even his big truck was no match for those stubborn roots. 

More chopping and digging, and a visit from Blue Stakes later, and they were ready for another pull. Our wonderful neighbor returned (thanks, Lee!), and this time we had success! The tree lay on its side like a defeated giant. I felt a twinge of sadness, remembering it’s beautiful red leaves and the baby birds we all watched grow up and leave their nest last summer. We couldn’t even park our big van beneath the tree because we were afraid it would jiggle the nest and cause the little ones to fall before they were ready to fly. I guess we’ll just have to plant a new tree. After all, there’s always room for one more.

**Editor's Note:  I can't believe she told about the death of the trees without telling about the tree-bush.  I guess I will have to mention that as one to tell later. And FYI if you have a small tree (less than 8 feet in diameter) some cities will come out and move it to a park if you call and offer to donate it.  The city came out and inspected the redbud last year and decided that the tree was beautiful but unfortunately too large to get the uprooting equipment around it. 

Also if you are a google feed reader stop by and enter our June give away.  You could win a Parade-Survival kit check out the Give Away tab for details.

Torture Chamber

So in January, the Dog Walker and I made a resolution to exercise every day. We started on January 2, and so far we haven’t missed a day. Most of the time we play an exercise video game together like DDR and lately it’s been Just Dance on the wii. We had to make a change because for some reason my body doesn’t seem to like exercise.

In January I was playing basketball two days a week and DDR with the Dog Walker the other five days. About six weeks into that routine, I started feeling pain in my right foot. First it was on the bottom, but it slowly spread up my heel until at least several times a day I was having shooting pains run up and down my leg. They were kind of like cramps, but no matter how much stretching I did, they wouldn’t go away. Finally I made an appointment with my doctor. He took X-rays and gave me a diagnosis… Plantar fasciitis and Achilles tendonitis. Then he gave me a referral for a specialist.

I "drug my feet" about making the call. I didn’t want them to tell me I needed surgery and at first I wasn’t even that excited about a cortisone shot. I changed my routine…I traded basketball for volleyball and we switched over to Just Dance without the feet movement. None of it seemed to help much, so after a couple more weeks, I made the call. I had in mind the foot specialist who had done Teach’s surgery last summer, but he was booked six weeks out. I took what they offered and I was able to get an appointment within a few days.

You know you are getting old when the "specialists" are younger than you are. He spent about five minutes with me and told me the only answers to my problem were a night-time "boot" (that keeps me awake half the night…it is so uncomfortable!) and physical therapy. Now I’ve had physical therapy before, once right after my knee surgery and then again about three years ago to fix the problems from the therapy 15 years ago. I was NOT excited to hear this news. It took me another three weeks and two cancelled appointments to finally get myself to the PT office.

My therapist was named Doug and he seemed nice enough…at first. He made me walk for him, then he worked my muscles a bit. Then he asked me if I’d ever heard of ASTYM. Apparently that was the therapy my specialist was recommending. I use therapy only in the loosest sense of the word. It’s really a code word for TORTURE! He has this set of plastic tools and the idea is to press as hard as he can to break all the capillaries in my leg to stimulate new growth in my ankle. Yeah…you got it…they want to totally bruise my leg twice a week for three weeks…on purpose…with tools… And I’m going to let them…does anybody see anything wrong with this picture??

During the first appointment I was still in shock and besides I couldn’t very easily run away since I was lying on a table behind a curtain and there were lots of other people in the outer room to see me trying to make an escape. When I got home I showed the red bruises that ran from my calf down to my ankle to my sweetie. He offered to make dinner. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all…until the second appointment. I took painkillers in anticipation of all the fun I was going to have, but it was still incredibly painful. Today I had my fourth appointment and I discovered that if I distracted my therapist with conversation, sometimes he would forget to push as hard. I still came home with an impressive trail of bruises. I’m not sure my leg is getting any better, but with all this bruising, who could tell? I’ll keep you posted…