Take Me Out to the Ballgame

Bored Scout

We have an awesome thing at our house. Teach works in the Customer Service center at Smith's. That means she sells all kinds of tickets for SmithTix. So a couple of weeks ago she called me from work. "Want to go to a Bees (baseball) game?" Now you all know I LOVE baseball, but we usually can't afford to see the real games, even Triple A.

Wiggly Curly

"How much?" I asked, afraid for the answer. "Five bucks each!" she exclaimed, "And that includes a hot dog." The only deal was that it had to be a Monday night in June. Of course we bought tickets right away (OK, I did call Bossy first to see if she wanted to get in on the deal).

Tonight was the big game. The Bees were playing Reno. The game itself was awesome! The wiggling kids were not. Nobody under the age of 8 except for Baby Doll could hold still for more than 20 seconds at a time. And they certainly weren't watching the game (as you can see from the pictures). I, on the other hand, thoroughly enjoyed the game. Teach got us awesome seats right on the first base line. We were only 16 rows up. I could have kept score!

Princess...Who wouldn't want her number?

You got me a hot dog???

The older kids seemed to enjoy themselves. Princess was trying to get the phone number of the boy behind us...
Drama Queen spent most of the time texting on her phone....
Teach kept asking me silly questions...I swear she played this game when she was little, why doesn't she remember the rules now?
I think the Dog Walker used every restroom on the lower deck.
And I'm pretty sure Curly drank out of every single water bottle which means we will all be sick with boogery noses tomorrow.

I never get to sit by my sweetie at events like this.

But I'd do it all again in a heartbeat just to watch one play. The Bees player on third was running for home as the ball was coming to the plate. The catcher caught it and we all held our breath as he went for the tag. But I think that runner grew wings because he practically flew around the catcher on his stomach and snagged the other side of the plate before the catcher could get him.

It was so awesome!

Even better than my box of Cracker Jack (I bought them at the grocery store and we ate them in the van for about a tenth of the cost at the ballpark).

For a few minutes I felt like a kid again.

Tee Ball

Sport learned to bat on something bigger than a baseball...

I've hardly had time to sit at my computer today! We had our first tee ball games and both teams did very well. My sweetie aka the awesome-ist guy in the world, is coaching Curly's team and I'm coaching Scout's. Sadly, most of our games overlap so I won't get to watch very many of Curly's and my sweetie will miss most of Scout's.

I have to confess that I was dreading it a little, but it really wasn't all that bad. Instead of pitching to the kids, I had them all hit off the tee today and so did the other coach. Because the game moved fast, we didn't have anyone just picking grass.

We played three innings with the inning ending after the last kid gets the chance to hit. Our league doesn't count balls or strikes or even outs! Even if they get out, they run all the bases and the last kid up gets to hit a home-run.

Baby Taco

Scout made some awesome hits, but the most impressive thing she did was when she was playing first base. The ball came off the tee as a slow grounder, right to her. She fielded the ball like a pro and tagged her base. She made the one and only out for the game!



Burrito was pretty unhappy about being assigned short stop in the last inning. He was inconsolable, and not even the threat of losing his treat was enough to bring him around. I'm hoping Teach won't have to work next time so she can take some pictures for you. Curly is so cute in his game shirt and hat! I've never been able to understand why the county leagues can't figure out that very few three-year-olds can wear a size 6 - 8.

Guest Blogger: Honor and Guilt, Doing My Share by Sweetie

Sweetie on far right with Gym Rat in front and Bossy on his left side

Remember when my wife was asking about baseball?  I am a bit opinionated about kids’ baseball.  I really wanted Sport to have a machine pitch league this year.  It’s a great way to let the kids learn to hit and field.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t help develop great pitchers so it has fallen out of favor.  Now Sport is playing real baseball, and thanks to some coaching by his mom, he is doing great. 

I also have a strong opinion about tee ball.  I truly love preschoolers and early grade-schoolers.  I love to see them having fun, but to say tee ball is not my favorite would be an understatement.  Everyone bats every inning.  Throw the kid out at first?  He still runs the bases…no one strikes out…gets out… and the last kid up always gets a home run! The only thing worse is little kid flag football (where the idea of four downs to make 10 yards is taken away… What’s the point?).

Drama Queen is holding the sign and Teach is on her left

My sweet wife knows how I feel and I thought she mostly agreed, that is until the other day she informed me that Curly was going to play tee ball with a friend.  A few days later, I learned that Scout and the grandsons were also playing tee ball and that she was going to be the coach.  And Bossy was going to be the assistant coach.  I couldn’t believe my ears!
And then there was Thursday… She called me to tell me about the cutest thing Curly had said… They had been talking about tee ball and the fact that his mom is coaching Scout’s and the grandsons’ team.  My three-going-on-30-year-old wondered out load who would be his coach.  Would Mom coach his team too? When his mom gently reminded him that she was coaching Scout’s team, he didn’t skip a beat.  With a big grin he said, “Maybe Dad will be my coach, he’s the awesome-ist guy ever!” 

Sweetie on the far right Bossy in the back middle and Gym Rat on her right

Ouch!  How do you respond to that?  After she repeated it several times, I finally got the message… I had been honored and guilted just one too many times.  Tomorrow she’s going to sign me up as the volunteer tee ball coach. I love my son… I (still) love my wife…. but tee ball?  That’s a different story.

What about Baseball?

Bossy said I sounded kind of whiny yesterday so I ran that by my sweetie and he admitted that he hadn't read the blog. So early this morning while I was still trying to get a little shut-eye, he opened the door and agreed that whiny about sums it up.

So sorry about that! I know you don't stop by so you can hear me complain about the crazy life I've created for myself. I'll try to be more upbeat.

I need some advice.

Love this pic of Sport!

You all know that Sport had an amazing football season! His team even won the state championship on their very first try. He just finished up playing basketball with his football friends and even though their team didn't do all that well, he learned so much and now he loves basketball too. He would go out and shoot hoops every day if the weather would cooperate.

A few years ago I swore off spring sports. Oh don't get me wrong, I LOVE softball, but by the time spring comes around I'm just looking forward to taking a break. This year I'm thinking of making an exception. (I know, just after I told you about my crazy life and now I'm thinking about taking on something else...this is what happens when you have this many kids, you start losing brain cells!)

Sport has only ever had one year of baseball and that was t-ball when he was just a little guy. I've been thinking about putting him in baseball to keep the momentum rolling. It would be nice if ONE of my kids really loved sports. When I was a kid, Little League meant you played ball pretty much every day and I'm pretty sure that is still the case. But I don't really want to sign him up in a rec league with one practice and one game each week. It would take him forever to learn to play that way.

So what has been your experience with baseball? The Gym Rat played one year of Little League and hated it but he was older and all the boys had way more experience that he did. The Dog Walker only did rec leagues. Sport is 8 years and still young enough to be teachable, but sometimes he is a little scared of the ball.

I could sure use a little input...

All the Merit Badges

 Did I ever tell you the Dog Walker is trying to earn all the Merit Badges? At this very moment he has earned 122. If he finishes them all it will be 131. I know…9 to go and less than six months because he has to finish them before he turns 18. We passed off Energy this morning with one of our wonderfully kind neighbors. We have had some amazing adventures in the name of Merit Badges.

Can anyone see Sport?

Last summer we decided we didn’t want to leave the last bunch of hard physical ones (cycling, backpacking, etc.) until his final summer. So we started looking for ways to earn Whitewater rafting. Sadly, we couldn’t find a group in Utah that taught classes in Whitewater even though we have some fantastic rapids here. There was a place in Idaho, but they were incredibly expensive. Undaunted, we kept looking until we finally found a place near Denver called the River Runners. They would do a class for us at a very reasonable rate. They didn’t care if the class was all scout age or not so we filled the whole class with our own kids! I’m not sure how we did it, but we convinced the Gym Rat to take time off work and squeeze his long legs into the back of the van for a thousand miles so he could be the adult figure on the raft. I was extremely pregnant with Baby Doll so maybe he just felt bad for me since I couldn’t go on the raft and my sweetie really doesn’t like that sort of thing.

Dog Walker, Princess, Teach, Sport, Prima Donna, Gym Rat, Crafty

The whole trip was pretty spur of the moment with only a couple of weeks of planning, but we managed to pull it off. Because we were limited with time, Crafty and Sport ended up missing most of the first week of school, but both survived and came out with amazing report cards. We drove through the Rocky Mountains on our way to Denver. Curly loved all the tunnels and the kids were so excited every time we saw anybody on a raft…which was often! 

We made lots of stops (since I always needed a potty!) and we mostly just enjoyed being together. We made the entire drive in one day and stayed in a nice hotel in Denver. Then we got up early in the morning and headed back the way we came for an hour and a half to the rafting place…I know, counter-productive, but MUCH cheaper. We dropped off all the kids with their guide, even Sport was young enough to ride the raft, and my sweetie and I headed to a small park with Curly and Scout. They completed the class and they also took a half-day trip down the river. Apparently Sport fell out of the boat a couple of times and had to be hauled back in. Crafty also did a great job being the victim when they needed someone to rescue. The Gym Rat and the Dog Walker stayed near the front of the boat and kept them all afloat. The kids absolutely loved it! I was so happy to have that signed blue card in my hand, I didn’t even mind handing over fifty bucks for the CD full of pictures (ok, I minded a little…).  

Dog Walker, Teach, Gym Rat, Prima Donna. Scout, Sport, Curly, Crafty, Princess

Sport, Scout and Gym Rat.

We spent another couple of days in Denver, seeing the sights and enjoying the pool at the hotel. We gave the kids a list of free or nearly so activities and then we let them choose. We were disappointed that the Denver Mint was closed, but we still got to see the Stadium where the Broncos play (since that is my sweetie’s favorite football team), and the Nuggets arena. We went to the Valley of the Gods and saw some amazing rock formations and visited Tiny Town (that one cost money, but the kids thought it was great). 

We drove back home through Wyoming, just so we could see some different scenery. We stopped at the Little America for ice cream cones and had lunch in Laramie.The drive was long, but we have to expect a certain amount of pain and agony over each and every blue card. (They all wanted to go back this summer, btw.) Only 9 badges to go…cycling, backpacking, geocaching, automotive maintenance…water sports. Thank goodness we have many kind neighbors, my sweetie was worried that this summer we might have to buy a boat!

Summer List...

About four or five years ago, I had finally had it with all the time the kids were wasting during summer vacation. The older ones would sleep in until noon, waste two hours doing a ten-minute job, and then beg to hang out with friends or go back to their bedrooms to hibernate. Every morning I would labor over a huge list of tasks for me, then celebrate (and beat myself up) when I was able to cross off less than half every night before bed. 

My sweetie said I was list-obsessed and he’s right! One thing led to another and in our efforts to satisfy my list-o-mania and get the kids motivated at the same time, we developed the Summer List. We write the list on Memorial Day and then try to complete all tasks by Labor Day. We start with the youngest child and go around the room five times with each person adding something to the List. If you are counting, that gives us roughly 60 things to do during the three months of summer. (Except that my kids are on year-round so we really only have about 6 weeks of summer.) 

 

This year we got started a week late because half the family was across the state moving the Drama Queen home. So last night we cooked outside, snarfed down my sweetie’s best BBQ ribs, and then sat in a circle to compile 2011’s Summer List. Curly was so excited he was jumping up and down! "Camping!" was his first response. Obviously he enjoyed his first Fathers and Sons Campout even though it was cold and they were rained on all night. 

Scout quickly added "Swimming" to the List. She had clearly been thinking about it for a while. Sport added build a treehouse, Crafty wanted to have a picnic at a new park we have never visited before. The Prima Donna thought doing some Family History (i.e. scrapbooking) would be fun. Princess decided we need to watch all the Disney Princess movies (go figure…) and the Dog Walker wanted to finish his last ten Merit Badges. I voted for Iron Chef 2 (I guess I’ll have to tell you about the first one some time). My sweetie thought refinishing the hardwood floor would be a good idea…I know, but nothing can be vetoed if it hits the Summer List. The kids all know if it is too outrageous or costs too much, it just won’t get crossed off. Time to go around the circle again! 

Curly was still jumping up and down. "Camping!" he yelled. Finally we convinced him to choose something else…backyard camping…which is one of our favorite activities, complete with a sunrise breakfast prepared by my sweetie. Last year as a nod to our Danish ancestry we made Æbleskiver. Other things were added, movies and concerts in the park, wii tournament, zuzu pet show, paper airplane contest, backgammon and piano lessons, a Harry Potter Marathon…fix something in the yard (any guesses on who put that one on?). 

One of our favorite Summer List activities is a Book Club and we chose the book Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card. We also added lots of summer reading programs for the little kids. The hardest items on the list this year include a trip to Lagoon (a local amusement park) and all the stuff my sweetie put on the list. It’s a good thing we have my sweetie to help us with the Summer List. Otherwise we might just waste our whole summer.

**Editor's Note:  My family didn't get to add anything to the list yet so it is my turn.  I want to have another movie in the backyard.  And plant a bunch of trees, right across the back fence blocking the neighbors that stare like we are an exhibit at the zoo...  Don't forget to enter our Give Away.

Soccer

I’m not sure why I signed my kids up for soccer…maybe I truly am a masochist at heart! We just finished our third week today and for the first time I actually saw all three soccer uniforms at the same time. Before that I wasn’t sure they actually existed. Crafty and Scout’s uniforms look the same…anyway, there really are two of them. This morning, after much turmoil and tears, we finally managed to scrape together two complete sets of cleats and pads since Crafty and Sport both had games at the same time.

After depositing them with their respective coaches, I positioned my chair right in the middle of their two fields. Thankfully, Sport was playing on the last field in his row, so I didn’t have to worry too much about foot traffic. I was by myself since my sweetie was seriously taking advantage of Free Dumpster Day by pulling out four major shrubs and one very large tree. I left Baby Doll home with Princess because I managed to sunburn her last weekend even through her stroller canopy and I took no end of crap from my neighbors at church on Sunday. So I sat in my chair and like the proverbial tennis match, I shifted my gaze from side to side so I could follow both games.

It was easy at first, Crafty was sitting out so I only had to watch Sport. He was playing defender in the back field and he was doing an amazing job!…except for one thing…about every thirty seconds he tugged on the back of his shorts. After a while, I was getting pretty embarrassed. Finally he was sent to the sidelines for a breather and a drink. He hustled over to where I was sitting. "You’re doing a great job!" I said. He smiled wide. "There’s only one thing…" His smile disappeared. I lowered my voice dramatically, "Why do you keep grabbing your butt?" I asked. "My underwear’s too big…" Then he ran off to rejoin his team.

Crafty was faring only marginally better. She kept getting subbed out with no apparent reason. When the game was finally over I confronted her coach and he apologized sheepishly. He had gotten mixed up in his rotation. For some reason, almost every girl on the team has a blonde ponytail and a blue shirt…Games over, the three of us headed home for a quick bite of lunch before I was off and running again with Scout this time. Sport begged to go, and so did Curly. I was already planning to take Baby Doll (with a hat and blanket) so the five of us headed out the door.

Parking is a joke at our soccer park, so I hefted Baby Doll, grabbed Curly’s hand and we hiked our way over to the field. I couldn’t possibly carry a chair, so we were destined to sit on the grass. Scout joined her team on the field and Curly immediately began complaining that the grass was tickling his feet. Sport had tucked a little basketball hoop complete with a ball and launcher into his clothes so I didn’t see it until we were camped on the field. He began launching his little ball onto the field, into people’s laps, and everywhere in between. Baby Doll was squirming all over, trying to get out from underneath her hat. That’s when Curly announced that he had to go to the bathroom.

I looked around, but all I saw was a teenager sitting at a table directing confused parents to the various fields. I passed the baby to Sport. "You’re going to have to hold the baby while I take Curly to the potty," I said. He grumbled a little, but stretched his arms to catch her wiggling body. I pulled myself to my feet. "Come on," I mumbled, "Let’s find out where the restrooms are." We walked over to the guy at the table. He pointed to the Rec center about a block away across grass and parking lots. We made the quick walk (it was downhill) and all the while I was lecturing Curly about going before we left, why did we even come, we were missing half the game…you get the idea. By the time we did our business, turned around and hiked back (uphill!), halftime was nearly over.

I spent the second half of the game trying to nurse Baby Doll with Curly pulling the blanket off and exposing…let’s just say this wasn’t a game of shirts and skins, but it felt like one! When the game was finally over and we were heading back to the car, Sport and Scout accidentally walked through the middle of a Flag Football game. The official dismissed them and not very nicely. By the time we got to the car, we were all grumbling…then it started to rain. And I paid good money for all this fun!

Birth Story: Crafty

Crafty was born in September of 2000. The Summer Olympics were in full swing and I was very happy to have something to watch on TV during the long hours I had to wait during her induction. I don’t know why I have so much trouble trying to have a baby by myself, but for some reason, I can’t make it happen without plenty of Pitocin flowing through my veins. My doctor is the coolest because he always wants to be present at every birth. He doesn’t have any partners, so he schedules inductions in the late evening so the babies will be born during the night and he won’t have to interrupt his office hours. I have no idea when or if he sleeps!

We showed up at the hospital on the appointed day at about 4:00 in the afternoon. Things were relatively slow and it wasn’t long before I was changed into my pretty hospital gown and hooked up to all the necessary machines. My doc showed up about 6:00 and broke my water, but things were still moving pretty slowly so he took off and offered to return in the wee hours for the delivery. We switched on the Olympics and hunkered down to wait.

I love the Olympic games! I’ve never wanted to be that kind of athlete, but I can appreciate the hard work and dedication required to get where they are. We watched basketball, swimming, and diving. Then we saw some great footraces. As the evening drew on, the sports got stranger and stranger. About 1:00 a.m., the Greco-Roman wrestling began. We had never heard of that sport, but we knew an American was supposed to be pretty good, so we were interested in watching (besides, it’s not like we had anything better to do…). The Russian, Alexander Karelin had been undefeated for 13 years. He had not even had a point scored against him in six years! We were pretty sure that Rulon Gardner didn’t stand a chance, but we figured it would be entertaining.

The match began at 5 centimeters and by the time we got to 8, the nurses called my doctor. He was only a few minutes away and he arrived just in time for me to measure 10. As he walked into the room, he glanced up at the TV. Usually the nurse would switch it off about that time, but since Rulon was so close to victory (as was my little Crafty), we let it stay on. "Is he still winning?" asked the doctor as he scrubbed his hands in the little sink. "Yeah," my sweetie said. "We think he might get the gold!" The doc snapped on the gloves. "Yeah, he’s a good kid," he said. "How do you know?" I asked. "He’s from my hometown," he said, matter-of-factly. We all glanced at the TV. Rulon was still winning and the match was nearly over. "Did you know him?" I asked. The doc laughed. "Everybody knows everybody in Star Valley, Wyoming," he said.

Star Valley Panorama by Scott O. Smith

He opened his tools and spread them on the tray. "He was a little punk kid. We hauled hay together." Shortly after that Rulon won the gold (I guess he grew a little from his hay-haulin’ days), but we got the real prize…a beautiful little dark-haired, hazel-eyed girl. (Good job on Biggest Loser, Rulon!)

The Biggest Loser on NBC

Graduation

Bossy graduated with her BS from UVU in August, but she is participating in commencement this week. She is the first of our children to receive a Bachelors Degree, and we are very proud of her efforts! I know from personal experience how hard it is to go to college and concentrate on home and family at the same time. My sweetie received his BS in 1988 and that’s the same year I earned my MA. Bossy was three and the Gym Rat was just past one. 

Utah State had a fun program with a little degree called "Putting Him/Her Through" or a PHT. It could be awarded to kids and spouses of students. We got certificates for both of them. Then I made little caps and gowns and we put them through a mock ceremony at the house before the grownups headed off for commencement. Bossy insisted on being first and she threw back her little shoulders and thrust up her chin. She was so proud of her accomplishment that I knew then that school would be an important part of our lives always. 

Bossy was the cutest little girl! She had a double crown so her hair was incredibly thick and grown up from the time she was tiny. When she was three I took her to the salon for a perm. (Give me a break, it was the 80s!) The lady said she wouldn’t give one to a girl so small because their hair was too fine and it might be damaged in the processing. She took one look at Bossy and told her to climb into the chair. She still has long brown beautifully thick hair, but now she likes to wear it straight or pulled back. 

 

She was so bossy and mouthy when she was little. We thought it was cute so we let it slide. There were many times I looked into her dark blue eyes and whispered, "I can’t imagine what you will be like when you are all grown up." She would just give me a mischievous grin that seemed to say, "Just you wait…" 

We sailed through the elementary and middle school years playing basketball, softball, and throwing in just a little dance for good measure. She picked up a clarinet for the first time in 4th grade and that began a wild ride that finally ended with a college scholarship that paid all of her housing and fees at a junior college (her tuition was already covered with an academic scholarship). 

 High school was hard! We had many moments when I was tearing my hair out, wondering why I had given my own mom such a bad time. But there were some amazing moments too! She was a runner-up Sterling Scholar. Her Academic Decathlon team won the state competition and headed off for Nationals for the first time in the school’s history. She was a band officer and colorguard member. She got excellent marks and many scholarship opportunities. Before I knew it high school graduation came and went. She was only 17 and headed off to college. 

After she graduated from the junior college it was only a short time before she met Gamer and the two were married in a backyard ceremony by our Stake President. Taco came first and a couple of years later, Burrito. Gamer’s son, Bean Dip, also became a regular part of our family. And now, here she is…my own little Bossy (not so little anymore) graduating from the university.

I don’t have to imagine any more what you will be like when you grow up. Here you are, standing tall and proud (as you should be) facing the world once more in your cap and gown, diploma in hand. Go get ‘em Girl! ‘Grats…love you.

Autism: Growing up "Normal"

This is part six of this story.  If you are new and want to catch up click here.

I stewed and struggled over the best ways to teach my 8-year-old autistic boy. I had heard all kinds of horror stories about anger because communication was hard, other kids picking on these kids because they were different, and just a general sense of no direction or goals. I didn’t want these things for my son. Even though he was now stuck with the autism label for the rest of his life, I wanted him to grow and achieve as much as possible.

Because his first grade teacher showed us that he was perfectly capable of hard work, we started adding his name to the daily job list. He didn’t like that, but he usually did whatever I asked him to do. When the anger started pumping through his veins, I would calmly say, "One hard job…." If he didn’t control it himself, it was "Two hard jobs…." There were times we got to ten hard jobs before he finally pulled himself together. Then I would present him with a list and he would start working. As long as he held it together and started on his list I would take jobs off the other end. I don’t remember him ever completing all ten jobs. Most of the time he would end up with fewer than five things that might include unloading a dishwasher or vacuuming a room. The best part of that was not the clean house, it was that he was learning to control it by himself.

To deal with our second issue, I tried early on to involve him in all kinds of activities with all kinds of kids. Our biggest thing was sports. He played t-ball (although not with the best results), soccer (that was even worse when he was little) and basketball. One of our therapists had suggested that there was a link between learning and exercise for autistics and if we pushed the exercise, his brain might expand along with his other muscles. We figured it was worth a try. So at age 9, we signed him up for peewee football. He absolutely hated it!

In the Gremlin leagues he was forced to try out with about 150 other kids. He didn’t understand the drills or the coaches and just the physical part was way more than he had ever done in his entire life. He was finally placed on the platinum team. It was a rag-tag group of kids that were likely to be the last ones chosen in a neighborhood pick-up game. We were fine with that. He had a couple of coaches who were absolute saints. At the parent meeting I got to give my speech about how he might say something inappropriate or quote movies and to please let their boys know so they didn’t get angry with him.

It was a difficult season. Our little guy spent many lonely moments on the bench, but he did get in his required plays and he learned a little bit about pushing on the line. The most important thing he got from football was friends, and lots of them. He played football for eight years with different boys every year. Because these boys spent so much time sweating together, they look out for each other and help each other. Once when the Dog Walker was in 6^th grade some kids started picking on him on the playground. A couple of his football friends stepped up and told them to take a hike.

I rarely go anywhere with my son that we don’t run into someone he played football with. There are always high fives and "How ya doin’?" My boy usually can’t remember their names (I think I told you before he was about 8 when he finally knew all his siblings’ names) but he knows they were on the same team and who the coach was and what year they played and where. I’ll give you more specific football stories later, but for now, just remember that football was an incredible journey for our autistic boy.

The last part of my huge worries was that he wouldn’t have any goals or hopes or dreams. We watched other kids in the cluster class and their parents seemed to want to coddle them and just keep them babies. They were not expected to be like other kids, so they weren’t. I’m not saying that is wrong, I’m just saying I didn’t want that for my son. Then one night while I was helping the Gym Rat with some stuff he needed to do for a merit badge, my light bulb turned on…the thing that might expose my little guy to all kinds of experiences and skills could be scouts.

Artsy-Fartsy

I think I’ve mentioned before that I am from a small town in Utah. That effectively makes me a "hick." I’m not exactly sure where that term came from, but I do know that it means I’m pretty uncultured. (Remember I do have a church pew in my living room and I couldn’t possibly park even one car in my three-car garage. I also like to plant tomatoes and cabbages in my front flowerbeds.)

I’m not a fan of artsy-fartsy classical concerts, operas or the ballet unless I know one or more of the performers. I’ve even been known to ask my sweetie to wake me up when one of our kids comes on stage. I tend to prefer loud basketball and football games (it’s hard to sleep during those), big family parties, and chaos in general. In an effort to have my kids not become hicks we encourage (Princess would say force) our children to do all kinds of musical, cultured artsy-fartsy things.

We sign them all up for a couple of years of dance. We figure even if it gives them a little more grace on the football field it is worth the effort. In our house we can’t really afford piano lessons so we require several years of band in elementary and middle school. I currently have three children playing musical instruments in various public school bands. The Dog Walker happens to be one of them. He has been playing the trumpet for five years and I thought he was finally absorbing a little culture. We wouldn’t want him to grow up like us without an appreciation for the finer things in life!

As a member of the marching band, the Dog Walker was required to watch the rest of the bands perform. If you’ve never seen a marching band competition, you would be amazed at the amount of "art" that has been inflicted into John Phillips Sousa. For this particular show they were even tossing French flags. My son was not impressed. He sent a text, "We are watching some dumb music show." The annoyance came through loud and clear. Since he was at a marching band competition that seemed pretty obvious. "What’s the show?" He paused for only a second and then my autistic son who always spells unfamiliar words phonetically punched out the reply, "Lame is." I guess there’s no hope for any of us.

Anything You Can Do...

I gave you a teaser yesterday in my post about my two older brothers, now Bossy says I’d better explain myself. When I was a child, our house was full of the competitive spirit. I have seven siblings, three brothers and four sisters. This provided plenty of opportunity to try to "one-up" each other. 

My parents encouraged us to work hard and value education. I remember bringing home a report card with all A grades and one A-. There was no "Good job! Nice report card." It was "Why did you get an A-?" My parents also believed that comparing kids with each other made them work harder. Nobody wanted to be the biggest slacker! And for the most part, it worked. 

My oldest brother was the amazingly brilliant one. It all came so easy for him.  He was Valedictorian, received cool scholarships, accepted only the highest possible grades without ever studying, traveled the world, earned a PhD at Cornell, wrote books, and finally landed a prestigious position at the University of Canterbury in Christchurch, New Zealand. He eventually even got the girl when he married at age 38 and had an incredibly brilliant daughter of his own. (He’s losing his hair first too, so that’s got to be worth something!) 

My next brother also had very high grades because he worked extremely hard, received nice scholarships, traveled the world, earned a PhD from UCLA, wrote books, and landed a prestigious position at the University in Chiba, Japan (sorry, I don’t know the name of your school!). He has a beautiful wife and three extremely talented kids (OK, the two boys play an amazing game of basketball…) and his little girl can only dribble down her chin (so far! She just turned one.). 

Then there’s me…but for now, let’s focus on the competition that goes on between these two brothers of mine. Perhaps you can see a few similarities in the paths they have followed? Both played tennis in high school and were state champions. Watching a tennis match between the two of them was a lot like watching them succeed in life. Japan 15, New Zealand 30, Advantage Japan, Game, Set, Match! They were working hard for the same things. Both were Eagle Scouts, missionaries, ESL teachers in other countries. Both married later in life (I think they had a pact of some kind). 

As kids they weren’t always the best of friends. I remember them fighting one night and running through the glass window of our front door. I’m pretty sure that one ended in stitches. Actually, I’m pretty sure that happened twice! But as brothers they were always close. New Zealand was a bit of a nerd in elementary school and Japan ended up in the principal’s office many times for beating up the kids who picked on his older brother. 

©: FOX

 This has been the hardest blog I have written. I have been so worried that their competitive spirits might misinterpret my intentions somehow and make them feel that I care more for one than the other or that I think one has been more amazing than the other. They are two of my heroes and even though I like to tease them a little, I’m very proud of the amazing men they have become. But just because one of you did something doesn’t mean the other one has to copy every time. Japan clearly won the earthquake competition...now can’t we just do something easy? Like stealing the moon or maybe a race to Mars? 

©:Dreamworks

I love Basketball!!

I’ve told you before that I love basketball! It’s one of my favorite sports to play and I love watching it too. I’ve spent many hours coaching half a dozen Jr. Jazz teams over the years. My favorite age to coach is the 3^rd and 4^th grade girls. They are amazingly teachable at that age and they haven’t had much time to develop an ego problem. 

ValueClips Clip Art

When Teach and the Drama Queen were that age I coached my first team of girls. Actually Teach was only a second grader, but because I was willing to keep her, they let her play with the older girls. We had a lot of raw talent and several girls who could really handle the ball. Our season went well and the girls just continued to get better and better. We didn’t lose a single game! I had never considered placing this team in the county tournament, but these girls were so good and so excited about the opportunity that I filled out the paperwork. We continued to practice and prepare.  My best little point guard tended to get nervous when the pressure was on and I knew it would be difficult to get her to relax. 

Our first game was terrifying! Their girls were huge and physical. Their parents and older brothers were intimidating and the officials were helping the other team win. I’m sure they just didn’t want to get beat up on their way back to their cars when the game was over, but their fears and assistance didn’t stop my team from wanting to win. We stepped into the huddle at halftime. "The refs won’t call anything on them!" one girl complained. "Yeah," whined another, "They are hacking us all over the place." I looked around the circle at their ten anxious faces. "We can quit…" I suggested. They looked at one another in disbelief. What was their coach saying? I watched the determination enter into each face and they began to encourage each other. "Come on…we can do it…let’s go!"  

Petr Gnuskin of Fotolia.com

We won that game by about 10 points and it catapulted us into the championship game. We were nervous and understandably so. We had never lost a game but neither had the opposing team. My girls played their hearts out! With 12 seconds to play in the game we were down by one point. My little point guard was nervous and about ready to fall apart. "I can’t do it…she muttered." I took her by the shoulders and forced her to look me in the eye. "Steph, you are better than they are!" I assured her. "You are going to dribble that ball down the court, make the last shot for us and win the game!" She looked at me doubtfully. "You can do it!" I said one last time and sent her back out on the floor. 

She took the inbound pass and started dribbling through the press. She hit the jump shot with 2 seconds to play. The other team didn’t even have time to get the ball back down the court. I was so proud of those girls! Many of them went on to play high school ball. Steph led our high school team as the point guard when they won the state championship several years ago. Coaching really can have its rewards.