When is it enough?

I am just wondering about this whole kid’s sports phenomenon. When is enough…well, enough?

Is it when you sign your kid up for two sports that occur during the same season? I mean how can we pick one? What if he likes one better? What if the whole freaking first grade is playing “the” sport? You can’t not try it and be left in the dust.

Is it when you sign your kid up for “instructional” lacrosse and the equipment for the kid who can’t really even tie his own shoes that well yet, costs upwards of $200 (not including the registration fee)? There’s a strong possibility said kid may not stick with that sport. But heck… we will have some really cool equipment taking up room in the garage.

Is it when you stand there at practice, freezing your ass off (it was NOT this cold at the house!!) after already having started dinner, did homework, raced to get there on time, squeezed and tugged him into his equipment in the back of the minivan, only to hear him ask the coach “how long ‘til practice is over?”

Is it when the people “in charge” don’t pass along any pertinent information? “Picture day is on Sunday…” Oh really? Maybe you would like to tell me where and what time? Small details I know. But I like to know where I am going and what time I should be there. I am funny like that.

Is it when the parent standing next to me watching the same game that both our kids are in, says “Did you see how good my Johnny is?” Uh, no. Actually I am watching my kid believe it or not.
Now don’t get me wrong if Johnny was doing something great I would give the kid props. And maybe even give the parent a pat on the back if they aren’t someone I would otherwise like to smack. But if both kids are doing the same thing and neither one doing it more spectacular that the other, then no I didn’t see your Johnny. The fact that you would assume that I would be watching Johnny and not my kid is strange to me. Truthfully, if your Johnny discovered the cure for cancer while dribbling a soccer ball I still wouldn’t think he was better than my kid. A parent is supposed to think their own child is nothing short of amazing…just not supposed to assume everyone else thinks so too.

So is it enough when I say it is? Probably. But I won’t say it is. I won’t make my kid be the one with the crazy mom that complains all the time, who knows she can do things better than most of these chimpanzees that run “organized” (not) sports. So, I will let him try every dam sport. I will buy all the bells and whistles even if that means my haircut money that week goes to buy athletic supporters. I will drive to four different practices, freeze my petunias off at the fields, and make nice with parents that are certifiable. (Although I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that some parents are great…some are even my friends who I am happy to sit, freeze and chat with.) I will chip in to buy the coaches gift cards to Dunkin’ Donuts cause they at least stepped up to herd these 7 year old boys and try to teach them the game.

With any luck my athlete will say enough is enough one day. He will choose one sport per season that he loves. Until then I suppose, I will do more than my share of enough to get him where he needs to go. God forbid, he would just have to play out in the back yard. Remember when that was enough?

She's hired!

Diva got the job! Whoo hoo! Who is happier than me? Ok DH is happier...

She will be working in a lawyers office and with some of her friends who got jobs there as well. Nice hours that work around her schedule (which this week includes one extra spring break day off, a trip to a Broadway play and and a five day trip with her school group...it is good to be 16!), close to home, looks great on the college resume.

Very weird for me dropping her off to start her first day. But then again in less than a year she will be driving herself and that's just plain scary on so many levels.

Blog-iversary

Who knew there was such a word. Apparently there is.

Well, Monday is my two year blog-iversary. What started out as a cool new thing has turned into some kind of therapy almost for me. I never thought I would still be writing two years later. I look at my counter sometimes and wonder who reads this aside from the ones that I know. I reread some of my favorites over from time to time and they make me smile. Some still make me cry like I did the day I wrote them.

I think of the times I wanted to say more, but something held me back. Then sometimes maybe I said too much. I know why I read other blogs. But it still amazes me that anyone wants to read what I write. But those who read and comment and those who pop in and read and don't, thanks for hanging with me. I hope I have maybe made you laugh, or given you something to think about. I wonder what the next year will bring to make me what to bang away at my laptop. We shall see.

..oh yeah the recipes...

I know I said one a week. Life takes over and you look up and time has flew by. I will give you a quick one that I made again this week since I was low carbing...

Cold Chick Pea Salad
1 can chick peas drained
1 can black olives drained and cut up
2 stalks celery diced
1/4 cup red onions sliced thin and chopped
Feta cheese as much as floats your boat (low fat if possible)
Balsamic vinegar
Oil (I like EVOO but regular olive oil or even vegetable or canola is fine)

Mix chick peas, olives, celery, onions and feta in a medium sized bowl. Drizzle with balsamic vinegar and oil. Mix up. Refrigerate for at least an hour to chill.

What a difference a day makes...

Spring has sprung today. Even though I think tomorrow's going to be rainy...today was truly spring.

We had a Palm Sunday brunch with family. Sat outside to finish our coffee after stuffing ourselves with yummy brunch fixin's..homemade waffles, bacon, fruit, home fries, even mimosas which I adore. After a week doing low carb which is not that hard yet effective...washing waffles down with champagne was not short of divine! Kids played baseball and tag..neighborhood dogs (and resident dog of course) got in some ball stealing too!

Sun was so strong that I got some color on my face and chest. Barring the damage that sun causes...yippee! I even decided after company left, to linger outside and read my book for awhile. Then took a 3.5 mile walk to the beach alone..well I took Beyonce, AC/DC,Barry just to name a few to keep some pep in my step.

Sat for a few minutes to admire one of my favorite views and lucky me it's practically in my own backyard.

I will keep doing the sun dance...can you say flip flops??????

"...like marizpan frosting on a sardine."

How's that for a post title? It's a quote from book I just read. A character described her sister's ex-lover as such. It made me laugh. Then it made me think. I know people who are sardines with marzipan frosting. Look all good and together on the outside. May even make people envious of what they have. But when you "cut them open"...yep. Sardines. Just like that pretty cake...imagine you cut a piece thinking it would be heaven on a plate, then it's just sardines inside. Yuck.

Then I think again. Am I becoming one? Maybe that's why I have had this feeling of unrest for some time. Thought maybe it was the winter blues...but maybe the weather's not totally to blame. Maybe I have been getting caught up in the wake of the sardines and not being true to myself. I think in some ways, yes.

I have always known who I am. What I am about. Lately, I am doubting who I am. I have feeling of not measuring up, not confident in my decisions, self conscientious about what I am putting out there to the world. I have become consumed with things. Now I like nice things like the next guy. And if I had all the disposable income at my fingertips that I desired I would have even better stuff. But somewhere I started to lose what's most important. I started to take for granted the wonderful experience that is my life. I used to keep a gratitude journal for many years. Can't remember when's the last time I wrote in that. I can almost be sure it has not been since I moved to the other side of the tracks. I am afraid therein lies the problem. The other side of the tracks was always on my wish list. When I got it I think I forgot that there's more than where your front door is to be grateful for. Time to dust that off and start writing in it again.

I am not sure if the book I just read has helped me shift my focus. I think it was one of a few things. It sure made me realize that being bummed about not be able to vacation at my favorite summer destination this year is total nonsense compared to God forbid, a sick child. I think our crappy economy though I know it's temporary, has made to me take a second look at where the heck all the money my husband makes goes. And how much we just took for granted and threw money at to make it all be wonderful. Again, money is good. Lots of money is better. I know in my house when the money's flowing everything's just peachy. When money is tight maybe not so much. But that's not who we are. We have a great life. We are very blessed and rich in so many ways. Money is nice..I do enjoy it in large sums...but it's not everything and really can't make you truly happy.

As I drove home today, someone had a bumper sticker that read "Gratitude is the Attitude". I thought..I know that. Someone trying to tell me something? Seems so. I know when you are truly grateful for what you have, only then can more come your way. More not necessarily being things...it could be more in so many other forms. More good health, more strength to deal with people who are nipping at your heels, more patience for your kids who really just want some of you every day even if they are teenagers!

So I will not become a sardine with marzipan frosting. Although I love the marzipan frosting...perfect, no lumps, bumps or "knife lines"...and I can keep striving for that. But, when you cut me open no sardines. More like red velvet cake. Yeah, comforting and good. And real. No artificial anything inside. And when I run into people that remind me of that saying I will just laugh because I know what's underneath.

P.S. Thanks Lizard for reminding me of this latest song...I know it's coming I just wish it would hurry up!!

Gymbos

In my house when we say Gymbos we know exactly what we are talking about. The "Gymbos" have been around since Shorty was about 1 1/2 years old. So we are talking going on six years. They are not the toy that I would have gone to the store to pick out for my child. For the record I do not like clowns. (another issue another post) But after having signed up for Gymboree classes for all the years leading up to nursery school..Gymbo the HUGE stuffed clown that was brought out at the end of every class to sing the goodbye song with and get hugged by every little darling in the class grew on me. He was cute. (not that scary hide under your bed with a knife with blood dripping from it's fangs kind...sorry issues, I digress...) Shorty LOVED him, So Santa bought him a smaller one..now affectionately known as "Big". Then during the course of more Gymboree classes Shorty became infatuated with firemen. He was one for Halloween that year. And when they had for sale a smaller beanbag type version of Gymbo dressed as a firefighter...there was no way I was getting outta there without him. He is affectionately known now as...you guessed it..."Firefighter". You can figure out from the picture I think who is who...Firefighter used to have a yellow suit..but well he has been through a lot...

They have not missed a night's sleep with Shorty all these years. They have gone to Florida, upstate, Vermont, Fire Island...you name it. If Shorty has been there overnight they were there too. They have gone through the xray machine at airports many, many times...much to most luggage checker's delight! They are his I guess...security blanket. I never really ever let him take them places...like on errands or to people's houses. He never really wanted to...just as long as they were there in his crib for a nap or in his bed on top of his WWE sheets waiting for him when night fell.

I dont give them much thought usually. Once in awhile I give them a wash inside a pillow case on delicate to spruce them up. I rearrange them every night when I go into his room to tuck him in again after he has fallen asleep. I sit them on his bed every day after making it.

One day last week I made his bed but didn't see them. Honestly I thought they were under the bed or down the side by the wall and couldn't be bothered looking for them figuring he would find them at bedtime. When bedtime came and he was bouncing into bed...I said "hey where are the Gym's?" He said "oh, they are in my closet." Closet??? What the heck are they doing in there? He went on to explain that he and his friend were playing up there earlier and he hid them in there beforehand because he didn't want his friend to see them. Now mind you they are from hunger. They have definitely seen better days. They are tattered and torn, re-sewn 10x over, like I said Firefighters uniform has been pretty much totally "loved" off. I wouldn't want anyone to see them either to be honest. But he said he hid them because he doesn't want his friend to think he is a baby. I felt my heart break a little. So I suggested that maybe it was time to give up the Gymbos. "No he said, not yet. I just don't want anyone to see them anymore". So there goes another chapter in our life.

I fear the Gyms are on their way out. DH is delighted. He said get rid of them a long time ago...but I would never. I hate to even throw away stupid stuffed things won at fairs or in the those dumb claw machines. I feel guilty tying up black garbage bags with things "looking" at me. I could never throw away the Gyms. I am actually planning on putting them in something one day to preserve them. Maybe sit them on a shelf somewhere.

So the reason for the picture is this. He is starting Lacrosse this week. He got a lacrosse helmet and is tickled about it. He has been wearing it for three days. He said he feels like a big kid with "equipment". I think he looks like an alien with that big thing on his pea sized head but as long as he is digging it then so am I. He came down the other night with the helmet on and his Gymbos. He asked if I could stitch up Big's hat and Firefighters shoe. I said sure, so he left all his stuff on the counter. I couldn't help but get a little sad as I looked at that stuff and thought how a picture can say it all. He is moving on...getting older...more aware of what "people" think..but the Gymbos are still here.

I think their days are numbered. But when that day comes...I will sit them on a shelf somewhere so I can look at them from time to time and remember when life was simple. When all you needed was the Gymbos to make everything OK.

Moms don't get sick

Well not that they don't, they do. I mean they can have a cold, stomach issues whatever. But they pop OTC meds and off with their day they go. Not missing a beat.

So what I think I mean is that they "can't" get sick. Well I broke that rule this week. Whatever this is that I have, has without mincing words...kicked my ass. I have been sick now for six days and counting. I probably was coming down with it for a few more days before that...but I followed the pop the OTC meds rule and proceeded on. But I did breakdown and go to the Dr. after day 2.

So many people around me have gotten sick this year. And when they were laid up for days I thought..yeah...when I am sick I just keep going no laying in bed for me. I would like a little of that sick when I could just lie in bed for days. I know...be careful what you wish for.

For the record...I hate laying in bed other then when it's bedtime. I lay there feeling miserable thinking of all the things I should be doing. Like say for example, getting the house ready for the 30+ people coming here on the weekend for brunch. Or the movie night with the girls that I am missing. grr.

DH did a great job of holding down the fort for a few days. he even made homemade chicken matzoh ball soup ( know I spelled that wrong..) for dinner one night. And served it to me in bed.
But being the person that I am, I still needed to do things my way. So I tried to do stuff around the house during the week like I normally do. Just that nothing was done the way I normally do it because I just didnt have the strength. And all the halfway job of doing things landed me back in bed after all kids were present and accounted for after school every afternoon.

Moms get sick but really they can't . It's like a week lost. Email piling up...text messages from people wondering where I have been all week. Un-returned phone calls from people asking why I didnt tell them I was sick. Sorry not my style to make announcements about my state of sickness. And really not in me to reiterate my tale of woe....Laundry, mail. The family tries really they do. I have issues. I know this, move on.

So no more sick for me. I did my time. I am done. I had better feel ok tomorrow or I will not be happy. Tomorrow when I wake up I had better not feel like I have my head underwater...I will lipstick my chapped from breathing through my mouth lips, powder my blown way too many times nose, and go have breakfast with my friends when my darlings have all been sent off for the day. No more pajamas or socks in layers on my frozen feet. Perhaps maybe even earrings.

Pop those OTC meds (and the antibiotics from the Dr.) and off I will go. Ambitious? Maybe. But I am mom and I can't be sick.