Brother feet

These two love wearing matching socks everyday.

I love that it is their little secret.

Not Flesh of My Flesh

what the dark brings

I have been thinking a lot about relationships lately.

In my head in the middle of the night, it all makes so much sense.

You can like someone and not love them.

You can love someone and not like them.

You can really know someone and love them and yet - not want to be around them.

You can not know someone at all and want to spend all of your time with them.

In my world, friendships ebb and flow.

I am blessed to have remained friends with people from all aspects of my life.

I love human relationships.

I love making new friends.

I love spending time with old friends.

And yet, sometimes the ones I love the most - I really don't want to be with.  (Ouch)

Wow.

I went there.

I treasure the people in my life far too much to allow my current selfish thoughts to hurt years of priceless friendship.

But I wonder about these relationships.

Can my friends see that I am changing and growing?

I am not the same person.

Everyday I am different.

I feel like everyday I am growing and learning and branching out a little more.  My wings are just starting to spread.

I feel like some of my friends are done with growing and new experiences and doing something just because and will be genuinely happy if they never fly again.

That makes me sad.

There have been many occasions in the past year that have caused me to stop and evaluate friendships.

I have stood up for somethings that the old me would have normally kept quiet about.

Not all of my friends liked it.

And that didn't feel good.

I have made some changes in the way I want to live my daily life.

Not all of my friends like it.

Sometimes it is just easier to bitch and moan all of the time.

I have learned that sometimes it is okay to let some 'friends' go.

And that is tough.

Because I was brought up knowing that we do not throw people away.

And maybe letting a few go doesn't mean I am throwing them away - maybe it means that I am just taking a break.

I want to have my heart and mind open.

I want to surround myself with people that make me better.

I want to share myself with people that love me even when they don't agree with me.

I am thankful for the ones in my life that are willing to take adventures with me and allow me to grow.

I want to be in preschool with the world as my sensory tub.

I want to talk and learn and explore.

I want to laugh.

I want to dance.

I want to love.

I want to be better.

I want to give more than I get and show compassion to all people.

Today, at 42 years old - I think I just might be learning something about who I really am.

And that is some scary shit.

It Tickles

There is nothing better than the laugh of a child.

There is nothing more calming than the natural, joyful laugh of my child.



 

 

Especially when my head is full of grown-up stuff.

Especially when I am tired.

Especially when it is cause rolly polly legs tickle.

I actually think the person upstairs might have planned that - when alla that creating was happening.
So props to the creator.
Cause I needed that.

Someday we will look back at this and laugh, right? PLEASE SAY WE WILL LAUGH!!!!

go 'C' team go!

       

 

I am frustrated.

I am mad.

I am sad.

This blog post serves two purposes:  1. venting and 2. historical documentation so we can look back and laugh about the fact that we all got so dang upset about STOOPID 8th grade volleyball.

Jena tried out for her middle school 8th grade vball team.

There were 72 girls trying out and only 18 total spots for the 'A' and 'B' teams.

She didn't make the 'A' or the 'B' team.

Instead, her and 54 of her closest (not) friends have been sent to the hell known as the 'C' team.

Now let me clarify - I am not being one of  THOSE moms.

I do not think our kids are perfect.

As a matter fact, I have been told I am sometimes too hard on them.

And for further clarification, this ain't our first C team rodeo - more like our 4th or 5th.

What is frustrating is that we have killed ourselves to live in this area and now our kids are being screwed because of it.

When our kids leave our cute sweet little elementary, they get thrown into the masses at the big middle school.

Part of the masses include some of Austin's most fortunate students.

Sadly, being mixed in with the kids that have been afforded every opportunity that money can buy makes it very difficult for the normal kids to catch a break.

And as much as it should make the wounds heal faster - hearing that 'if you went to a different school, you'd prolly make the team' doesn't make it feel better.  Actually, in some ways it makes it hurt a little bit more.

I have been okay the last 3 years that our girls experienced this ridiculous middle school rejection - but this year I did not handle myself so well.

I became THAT mom.

Like any klassy mom would do, I called the coach before my kid had even gotten off the school bus.

The conversation didn't go well.  Who am I kidding - i guess I knew it wouldn't.

But WTF?  Really?  Rejection again!?!?!

Just give a girl a break.

When I was in junior high, it was a time to try all things - and everyone was encouraged to go out for as many things possible.

Even the most untalented students could find a place on the court, field or pool.  I am proof.

So when my kid that has worked so hard is rejected, it makes me angry.

When my kid that is someplace between average and skilled is turned away because she is on the bubble, I am angry.

Does she have a bad attitude?

Did she not work with the teammates?

Was she unprepared or tardy for tryouts?

No

No

No

Maybe you could have said yes to one of those questions so i could have less of a reason to be angry.

Do you know what the 54 person 'C' team gets????

A couple of games that their parents get to drive them to - no bus - and that the kids may or may not actually get court time.

One practice day a week.

Sorry ladies - I know you are in athletics 4 days a week for volleyball, but the girls that made the team need the court - so you can go run the track.  In 106 degree heat. For the whole athletic period, because that doesn't feel like a slap in the face, right?

Day 3 of my girl coming home crying and I am pissed.

I want to let her quit.

Fuck 8th grade athletics.

But the voice of reason that has been on my shoulder and in my ear for the past 25 years keeps reminding me that we have to stay the course.

Parenting is hard.

We can't let her give up.

That would be allowing the system to win.

But she is MY baby and I want to fight.

Ugh.

For the record - I actually do like the coaches.

They are just doing their job.

And quite frankly, I would rather eat pig vomit than do that job.

Junior high kids + upset rich parents might cause me to do illegal things.

I suppose they might have laughed after they hung up from my call the other day.

Cause really, what am I gonna do?
Make some angry cookies?
Or worse yet - write an angry blog post?!?!?!

Each of those coaches are saints and I trust that they know that my beef isn't with them - but with the system.

And with the fact that I get to clean up the mess.

And maybe we will sell one of our other kids so that Jena can get some club vball experience and make the team in high school.

And when she does, I am gonna give her permission to wear her middle school tshirt with a giant middle finger salute.

For me and for all of the other regular girls that have shed tears over this stoopid team.

Whew.

You might be wondering how I really feel.
 

                

P.S.  Did I mention that she went to vball camp the week before tryouts?  And she had to pay for part with her own money.  Ouch.  The life lessons just keep on coming, huh?

Oh and I can't forget the part about me encouraging her and telling her to never give up and to stay positive.  Hard work pays off.  Keep practicing, maybe you will get to move up.  Lie to kid much?

Mother of the year right here.

And no, we didn't encourage her to be team manager.
We told her it could be her choice.
She has had enough salt in the wound for one kid.
You might remember this.

11, 10, 8, 5, K

 

Thankful that they are all still willing to get up early to take this yearly picture

The first day of school came and went and somehow we have ended up on week two and I still haven't posted the yearly blog back to school post.

standing tall

As expected, I cried.  A LOT.
The kids were excited.

They were all looking forward to seeing their friends.
I think they were even excited to get back to a routine.

my heart.

I can't believe that Sam is going into 11th grade.  I am so proud of the young man that he is turning into.  It is just a shame that he might not know it.  Sam is a hard worker, great listener, happy introvert and always there when we need him.   It is true - everything you hear about teenage boys.  I hope that it is also true that he will come back to us someday soon.  I miss the sound of his voice.  I am fascinated to hear what his thoughts are on the world we live in.  I like the kid and I am looking forward to the day that we will speak again.


Giving money and power to the government is like

giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.

PJ O'Rourke

My Ella Bella is in 10th grade this year.  She is smart, sweet, athletic, flexible and a great friend.  I am increasingly aware of the ways that we are so much alike - although it would be torture for her to hear those words uttered from my mouth.  I cant imagine what being a teenage girl in this day and age must be like.  Sometimes I am overwhelmed with sadness that I cannot be her friend right now.  As much as I want to, I have got to stay the course on this parenting thing.  There have been struggles - so so many struggles.  I hope she hears me when I say that I LOVE HER and this too shall pass.  She is going to make it through these years.  I know it in my heart.  I want her to come out on the other side as strong and confident as I know she is.  How do we get there?  I just don't know.

I just spotted some ducks practicing their teenage girl faces.
Author Unknown

Our Jena Bean is starting her last year of junior high - 8th grade and we say THANK YOU JESUS!!!  Jena is our PB&J everyday kid.  She likes things to stay the same.  Sadly for her - in 8th grade everything is wonky.  Jena is a loyal friend, a list maker/task master and extremely devoted to her family.  She is at a crossroads right now of not knowing what she wants to do and we aren't helping matters by making her stick with the things she has already started.  (even when we know those things suck)   I think Jena has somehow managed to inherit every single one of my sarcasm genes and at her young age - she is already a graduate of Smart Assimus University.  Thankfully for me, the sharp tongue knows its place and she still freely gives hugs and is ready to talk and share at all times.  I hope her willingness to talk about her feelings, fun and friends with me never ever goes away.

I think it is safe to say that the average teenage girl feels about 50 different emotions in one second.
Author Unknown

Our Miles is in 5th grade now.  I think this could truly be the last year that he can be called a little boy.  Miles is sensitive, curious, genuine and loyal.  We often have to fight him to take a bath, he would be thrilled if he never had to clean his room and if allowed, he might wear the same underwear and socks for a full month and never ever cut his fingernails and toenails again.  That's my boy!  He has recently become obsessed with all things MineCraft and it brings me great joy to watch him and his dad play together. 

Inside every hardened criminal beats the heart of a ten-year-old boy.
Bart Simpson

  

Wyatt started kindergarten this year.  The day he has been waiting for his entire life has finally arrived.  Wyatt is a cuddle bug, worships his big brothers and sisters and is dying to always impress anyone that is around!  He spends most of his time trying to keep up with the older kids and their friends.  We have had a particularly hard time this year trying to help him understand that sometimes the older kids get to be with their friends without you hanging around.  We are working hard on ABCs and 123s.  And hope that he never has any reason to know that he is the youngest in the class.  And I am trying hard for him not to see how sad I am every day when he leaves.

 



 

Boys are God's way of telling you that your house is too neat.
Author Unknown

 

Wanna take a trip down memory lane and see with your own eyes how these kids have changed?  It is seriously a trip.

 

2007

2008

2009

2010

2012 

 

Don't know what happened to 2011 (guess I slept through it) and sad that we didn't have a digital camera before 2007.  :(