Wednesday, November 30, 2011

All the News That's Fit to Print...

After several days of Team WestEnders being down a player, Derek returned from Wilderness School this afternoon...tired, nursing a slight cold, but otherwise intact. (And with all of his stuff--astonishing! Incidentally, it was easy to gauge his level of fatigue: he stumbled off the bus, drifted over to me, and gave me a hug! In public! In front of other parents and his classmates! Yeah, he was wiped.) As expected, it was odd not having him around. The house was noticeably quieter with one less elephant--or son--galloping up and down the stairs. Riley had one less person to listen to his chattering during all of his waking hours (I'll give you one guess as to who got to pick up the slack?) There was a distinct absence of brotherly bickering (upside)...but also a dearth of sibling collaborating and giggling (downside). Upon arriving home, (being the conversational boy that he is) Derek readily regaled us with his own personal Highlight Segment:
Best Outdoor Activity--Predator vs. Prey simulation (in which he was designated an "herbivore"...and, sadly but not unexpectedly..."perished")
Least Favorite Outdoor Activity--Orienteering (yes, he's my child, he can't read a compass, either!)
Best Indoor Activity--the Storyteller (complete with requisite Ghost Story)
Worst Indoor Activity--creating and presenting a "Cabin Song" (I can only imagine the delightful offerings from a group of 11-year old boys. Oy.)
And finally, a Postgame Wrapup from Derek just wouldn't be complete without a critique of the Camp Food...which he summarized as "repetitive." (Evidently the same "ground meat" kept showing up meal after meal, disguised in different ways. Clearly it wasn't fooling anyone.)
Suffice it to say, we're all glad to have him back, full of Outdoor Ed Survival Stories, showered and tucked snugly into his own bed.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...I mean house...Riley's life continued as usual, meaning school and homework. Fresh off his successful "Why My Family Moved to Olney" project, he received yet another two-week assignment to begin preparing. This one (which I also remember Derek doing when he was in 3rd grade) involves choosing a recipe to type up and share with the class. I immediately read the fine print and discovered to my relief that your dish of choice is NOT required to reflect your family's "ethnic heritage" (Yes, I was concerned--just because my ancestors came from Ireland and Germany--several generations ago, mind you--doesn't mean I've inherited an awesome way to prepare...Wienerschnitzel...or...boiled potatoes. Does corned beef and cabbage count? Wait, I don't even eat those...how about a nice tofu entree? Derek interjected at this point to remind me that for his Class Cookbook we submitted: Cheese Quesadillas. What the heck were we thinking? Because, yeah, we're so...Mexican?) Anyway, Riley settled on Noodles with Spicy Peanut Sauce, which we do actually make and he really enjoys eating. I only hope the rest of the 8-year old crowd finds it tasty as well...and accepts our entry without demanding our (non-existent) Asian-American credentials! Now if you'll excuse me, I really need to go check how many days we have left until Winter Break (aka our Homework Hiatus)...

Sunday, November 27, 2011

School in the Wild...

With a son who's now in Middle School, it's been interesting and amusing (well, at least to ME) to reflect on how drastically things have changed since I was in 6th grade (oh-so-many...decades...ago). But this coming week, Derek will actually participate in a school-sponsored event that I myself experienced at age 11: the Outdoor Education Program. And while much of my pre-high-school time comprises a pleasant, fuzzy jumble in my memory bank, this particular extended field trip dredges up some pretty sharp pictures and stories for me.

Here are the details that stick out the most: my 6th grade class took buses to a Nature Center of sorts, located in the Catoctin Mountains west of Frederick. We stayed in basic cabins--unheated, with bunk beds--and ate meals all together in the Dining Hall. During the days we were there, we studied in the Open Air Classroom, observing plant and stream life, learning about ecosystems, attempting to navigate through the forest (more on that later), etc. Although we went in October, I distinctly recall that we got wet more often than I preferred (which is approximately, oh, never) and that I felt extremely cold the entire time we were there. As for specific lessons--there was one day we were divided into small groups, taken out into the woods somewhere, and instructed to find our way back to the main camp using our compass. The lone helpful piece of advice I remember was "By the way, this land borders on Camp David (yeah, that's right, the famous Presidential Retreat)...so just be careful not to wander in there." Oh, sure, no problem! While my group successfully avoided being shot by Secret Service Agents, the only thing we did manage to locate was...a paved road. Eventually, though, we were retrieved by a truck from Camp Greentop and returned in time for dinner. (Believe it or not, these are fond memories...although you'll notice I did not leap to volunteer as a chaperone for Derek's class trip! Let someone else do the time...I mean "bond with their child in the Great Outdoors"!)

So on Monday, Derek will depart on his very own Outdoor Ed excursion. We had one of those touching Mother/Son moments when discussing what he should pack:
Me (reading off the list of items suggested by his school): "Chapstick, you have one of those, right?"
D (half disdainful, half horrified): "Ugh, I don't wanna bring chapstick! Why would I do that?" (You know, like I was recommending he bring along fuzzy pink slippers and sparkly shampoo, or something.)
Me (reasonably, reassuringly): "It'll be chilly, your lips will be dry--and don't worry, you have non-girly chapstick..."
D (hysterically): "My friends will make fun of me and probably chuck me off the mountain! Hey, loser, you brought chapstick, hahahahahaha!" (Oh, for the love of Pete, you win, forget the stinkin' chapstick, then!)

I almost set him off again when I pulled out his one and only pair of fleecy pajamas (covered in a guitar print--very cute...but maybe not so very...shall we say..."manly"?) and told him I thought he'd be freezing during the night without them. "Moooom" he groaned, "NO!" (Okey-dokey, it's your cold tush, pal!) Fortunately, we filled his duffle bag without further incident after that. (One of those frequent times I am thankful he's a boy: "toiletries" = deodorant. Done!) It occurred to me that it's actually the first time in his life he will be away from home by himself. I suspect that's going to be weird for ALL of us. But I know he's going to have an awesome time. He'll study the environment, and research all kinds of natural phenomena, and hike. (Hey, I'll bet these days when they drop kids off in the woods, they even give them a GPS!) And no matter how cold, damp, and tired he returns home, he'll have tales to tell his own kids in 20 years or so!

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Time to Update my Mommy Resume?

Husband and I became parents in our 30s, after many years of living on our own and taking care of ourselves, (mostly) in a capable and responsible fashion. When we agreed it was time to start a family, we took what we considered to be the thorough, adult route to preparing ourselves...including digesting the Prenatal Bible--I refer, of course, to the classic What to Expect When You're Expecting--cover-to cover, taking a Getting Ready for Your Baby's Birth class together, etc. However, even after all that studying, the actual process of continually caring for a tiny, helpless newborn still came as quite a rude shock to us at first. Sure, babies are adorable and all, but man, are they needy little blanketfuls of hungry, sleepy, cranky, wet, messy...what? oh yeah, "bundles of joy"! People always gush about the Big Milestones that kids reach, like crawling, and walking, and talking, and those are definitely great. But I have to admit, I enjoyed some of those less-celebrated-but-more-practical achievements even more. Like...holding a spoon. (Bonus: aiming some food in the vicinity of your mouth...so Mom can eat, too!) Or dressing yourself. (Eliminating the delightful daily wrestling match that involves shoving flailing limbs into small clothing-holes.) Each time my sons learned to do something on their own, as toddlers or preschoolers, I felt pride for their accomplishment...mixed with a bit of relief, that one more Mommy-To-Do had been removed from my list. ("Outsourced", if you will. I became more of a...Quality Control Manager--"No, honey, even though your utensil skills are now excellent, you may not dip Nutella from the jar. But yes, you may wear your Thomas the Tank Engine shirt for the 75th straight day. Don't forget the pants, too".)

And while no one would accuse me of acting all misty and nostalgic about those ‘precious bygone days’ (“Oh, sweetie, remember when you were so dependent on me that I had to wipe your nose for you?’ Good times! Or…not) lately this whole "Growing Up" thing has gotten a bit out of hand. For example, it was absolutely lovely when Riley at long last mastered tying his own shoes. I applauded when Derek got tall enough to reach the glassware and the freezer so he could get his own cold drink. And let's face it, I did an unrestrained Happy Dance when both boys took over making their own lunches. But on one recent morning, I had to get up with Derek before school because Husband left for work at some uncivilized hour for a conference call with China or Timbuktu or somewhere. (I know, I know: "what kind of neglectful, uncaring mother doesn't see her firstborn child off to school every day without fail?" Well, I'll tell you--the kind who is NOT a cheerful morning person, and enjoys sleeping until 7:30, that's who. See, I can be downright belligerent before coffee, which does not add up to quality mother/son bonding time. So there!) Anyway, somehow the alarm that I'd set the night before failed to go off and wake me, so I didn't actually get out of bed until 7:10. I found Derek, who had risen when his own alarm rang at 6:45, efficiently packing up his school supplies in order to leave the house at 7:20 and walk down to the bus stop. He had already fed himself. He politely declined my offer to drive him to the end of the street. In fact, I could have remained wrapped up in my cozy warm comforter, and he would have managed just fine on his own with no Parental Supervision whatsoever. Jeez Louise, can you say "obsolete"?

Okay, so that's my Middle Schooler, exercising his burgeoning maturity and independence. Fine. But Riley's still my baby and needs my guidance and assistance for many things, right? So I thought...until later that same week, after they had both arrived home from school, and Riley was itching to do his homework. (Why on earth would he want to do that? If I recall, "to get it out of the way" was the answer I got...) I was in the middle of something else and couldn't help him immediately, so I shooed him away with the assurance that we'd get around to it shortly. When I finished whatever task I'd need to "get out of the way", I informed him I was ready and eager to tackle those Spelling Words now. "Oh, you don't have to, Mom," he blithely informed me. I geared up for an argument along the lines of "of course we do, spelling is important, your teacher is expecting this assignment, blah, blah, blah." Before I could work up a good head of steam for the lecture, he quickly added, "I already sorted and wrote my words...with Derek!" (Who stood beside him, nodding solemnly--but with a giant, self-important grin on his face.) Then, just in case I wasn't feeling useless enough, he finished with, "And I practiced the ones I got wrong, too!" Alrighty, then...I'll just go take a nap, or something...

So there's an emotional conflict raging here: on the one hand, I'm very pleased with the initiative they're showing, and with the new skills they're demonstrating. But on the other hand, don't they need their Mommy anymore? I suppose this is all part of the maturing (for them) and letting go (for me) process that every parent endures as their children get older. (‘Letting go’ in this case being a special code for ‘holding on tightly with both hands and not loosening up even an inch’…wait, that’s not right, is it? Nevermind…) I've decided to look at the bright side (besides the obvious fact that no one’s driving…yet): I now have more time available to catch up on some reading, maybe do a crossword puzzle...and eat Nutella right from the jar (because the tough job of Parent does still come with some perks). And if they need me, they know just where to find me…

Saturday, November 19, 2011

The Natives are not all that Restless...

Yesterday I had the rare and special opportunity to get up-close-and-personal with...the Dark Side. I found it to be a dangerous place, one where few rules prevailed and the likelihood of experiencing harmful events was disproportionately high. Where was this risky, terrifying place? The cafeteria at Derek's Middle School (gasp!), during the Feeding Frenzy (eek!)--I mean Lunch Period. Yeah, that's right, I subjected myself to something that would leave even seasoned anthropologists quaking in their flak jackets: Adolescents in their Natural Habitat. And why, oh WHY would I undertake such an endeavor? Well, it's like this: in Elementary Schools, Parent Volunteers are welcomed with open arms (a big, glittery hug, if you will). We're ushered into the actual classrooms, where we are permitted to work directly with students on exciting tasks like "spelling commonly-used words" or "adding double-digit numbers, with regrouping"! We get to form a relationship with the teachers, and observe our children as they interact with peers and adults in their academic environment. It's all very warm and fuzzy. Then the kids get older, and go off to Middle School, and that sharing and caring stuff is all over, my friends. Suddenly you aren't allowed to just sign up and spend time in the classroom with your children (and they'd be absolutely horrified if you did that, anyway). So here's the dilemma--what's a Mom to do, when she still wants to spy on her son...I mean "donate her time to help out the school, while perhaps also studying student behavior in the scholastic setting"?

A fellow Soccer Mom, who had sent her older child off to Middle School last year, clued me in to the surprisingly simple solution. She recommended volunteering at the School Store...which is located right in the cafeteria...and operates during the three lunchtimes. Brilliant! From the relatively inconspicuous position at the edge of  the room, behind a counter, I could watch all of the dynamics of pre-teen bonding at its most basic--call it the Food and Fellowship Factor, if you will. So I got myself on the roster, and prepared to infiltrate the Derek's World. But first, in the spirit of fair play, I felt I should warn him that I would be invading--um, visiting--his happy lunchtime oasis. "Good news...I'll see you at school tomorrow!" I announced brightly one evening. He accepted this with a facial expression that read "slightly startled, but not overly-concerned". However, I couldn't help adding, "I'll be sure to greet you when you come in"--and I proceeded to demonstrate in a piercing, high-pitched voice, "Hiiiiiiii, Sweeeetieeeee!" Fortunately, he knows perfectly well that I would never even dream of doing this to him, so he calmly shot back, "Well, I can sit in the far corner of the cafeteria, then!" "Oh really? Then I'll just have to jump up and down, and wave my arms, and call out even louder--"Over heeeere, Hoooneyyyy!"--so you're sure to see me. (Mwah hah hah! I still don't scare him, but it was lots of fun to pretend to be Evil Mommy for a second...)

When my very first School Store Day arrived, I eagerly took up my post and waited for the impending action. After a few minutes, the 6th-graders streamed in noisily, laughing and jostling in a high-spirited way. And lookie here, it turns out that Derek and his friends actually sit only a few feet away from my window-seat. Get ready for the show! When Derek spotted me, I gave what I considered a totally discreet little finger-wave and smile...which he ignored...then he pointedly sat on the bench at his table with his back to me. Humph! I'd been thoroughly rejected by my darling son! (Some of his friends helpfully pointed out, just in case he'd managed to miss it, that his mother was here. I saw the back of his neck turn red, but that was about all the acknowledgement I got!) During the next half-hour, I handled exactly ONE transaction (a kid bought a 75-cent mechanical pencil) and kept a curious eye on the 11-year olds. Derek's little posse included his best friend and a couple of soccer teammates, all of whom ate and chatted in an appropriately civilized manner. In fact, the entire class was, overall, a surprising well-behaved group. (I don't know what I was expecting--a food fight, a la Animal House maybe?) Good for them, a bit boring for me. Finally, toward the tail end of the session, when I'd all but given up hope, Derek and a friend approached the School Store counter and stopped to talk to me. (I suppose he'd exhausted all other available means of entertaining himself.) So I guess my presence wasn't too mortifying, after all. Then the bell rang, and he filed out with his classmates to continue his day.

(Then the real fun was over for me, and I spent the next hour-and-a-half reading...and playing Plants vs. Zombies on my iPod...while the 7th and 8th graders ignored me completely.) There you have it: I successfully spent a couple of hours on the fringes of Adolescent Culture...I survived...and my son is still speaking to me. A rousing triumph for my first foray into Middle School, I'd say! Next month, maybe I'll even be brave enough to try the local cuisine!

Thursday, November 17, 2011

It's our story (and we're sticking to it!)

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, the first quarter of the school year recently came to a close. So that preliminary "getting to know you" and "easing into the academic routine" phase is over, and the real "roll up your sleeves" and "put your nose to the grindstone" part can begin (for Riley, anyway, still in Elementary School--Derek got thrown into the deep end on Day One of Middle School). For example, Riley was just assigned his very first 3rd grade project, a poster in which he must utilize of various "text features" to present information in an effective, interesting manner. "Great fun!" I thought enthusiastically, already envisioning how he could incorporate elements like fancy fonts, and photos, and captions, and (wait for it) bulleted lists! Poster board and markers and glue sticks, oh my! But I lost a bit of my excitement when I actually read the required topic: "Why your family moved to the United States...or Maryland...or Olney." Now, Riley's school is awesomely multi-cultural, so I'm positive that some of his classmates have really cool stories to tell about emigrating from other countries. Or some of them might at least have started out their life in another state, and moved to this area. But...I was born in Maryland. I've lived here my whole life. I feel so...L-A-M-E!

Of course, mine and Husband's ancestors did at some point come to America...but it was several generations ago. Those relatives have long passed, and (sadly) the family histories haven't been preserved in any tangible form. So poor Riley is stuck with his only possible choice: "why my Mom and Dad moved to Olney." (To make it even more pathetic, we relocated a whopping 14 miles, from Bethesda. I know, I know, Daring Adventurers we were, blazing a trail from one suburb to the next...) However, when discussing it with Riley, I realized that somehow, we'd never talked to him about that Pre-Kid period in our lives. He didn't know, for instance, that Husband and I had lived on the 8th floor of a tall apartment building, in the heart of the Bethesda Business District. Or that when we moved, I was just barely pregnant with Derek (but didn't know it yet), and wondered why the heck I was so exhausted when trying to load boxes. (We got a big chuckle out of that--technically, Derek moved with us...but he doesn't remember the old place so much!)

And it was certainly nostalgic, reminiscing about the months spent house-hunting (much more enjoyable than the actual search was). We shared how Husband had to convince me that Olney was not, in fact, "out in the middle of a pasture somewhere." How did he make his case? By pointing out that only a "real town" could support a Starbucks right in the center...and (most critically) within walking distance from our prospective neighborhood. We also wanted a yard where our future children could run amok, and Husband is fond of reminding me that my specifications were quite strict: there had to be a strip of grass at least 60 feet, 6 inches long...for pitching practice! Hmm, what else? Oh yeah, nice quiet street, good schools, blah blah blah.

So yes, our tale still lacks the suspense and drama of a genuine Coming to America experience, but hopefully the creative use of color, the neat presentation, and the perfect spelling and grammar will allow Riley's teacher to overlook the story's yawn-factor. Ooh, maybe she'll give extra credit if we throw in some glitter! (CVS is right next to Starbucks, I can go get some right now!)

Monday, November 14, 2011

A family that plays together...has a kickin' good time!

After last Saturday and Sunday's soccer whirlwind, wrapping up both boys' seasons with 2 games each, Team WestEnders breathed a collective sigh of impending relaxation, and prepared to welcome the first sport-free weekend in quite a while. But wait, not so fast...there's still the Post-Season Celebration to attend. What's that you say? "It's just a party, what's the big deal?" Au contraire, my friends! When our dedicated, enthusiastic (overgrown 10-year old...and I mean that in a 100% admiring way) Coach throws a get-together, it involves a Parent vs. Kids No-Holds-Barred-Grudge Match--what? oh, of course I mean "friendly contest"--at a local indoor SportsPlex...followed by cake.

Fortunately for us old...er folks, we started out with Riley's U10 Hornets on Saturday evening. We stretched, we warmed up, we felt confident that we could totally take those...scrawny little guys that came up to (maybe) our waists. Before the contest, Coach gathered the adults for a pep-talk: "Take it easy on them, and when it's all over, they'll have more goals than us" he sternly admonished (with a knowing grin--jeez, you'd think he's aware that some of us have...shall we say a "competitive streak"? I mean, not ME, certainly...) And the whole thing was a blast, I tell ya. I played field hockey for decades, which is similar in terms of player-positions and strategy (minus the big wooden stick, obviously), so I enjoyed the heck out of myself getting to run around and kick a ball (off the wall, no less) without being called for a foul. In the end, the munchkins racked up a respectable 7-5 victory...and everyone had earned their snack. (Incidentally, that's my kind of fitness program: work up a good sweat, and earn yourself some dessert!)

However, some of us faced yet another challenge: Derek's formidable U12 Radioactives on Sunday night. And I'm not ashamed to admit that the prospect of going head-to-head against these boys filled me with no small amount of trepidation. Some of them are already almost as tall as me (although I still outweigh them--for the moment). Many of them race around on feet that are bigger than mine. Most of them run much faster than me (I can run for quite a while...just not...quickly). ALL of them demonstrate enormously-better ball-handling skills than I do. And most importantly, NONE of them will accept losing a Survival-of-the-Fittest-Battle (dang it, "friendly...contest") against their Moms and Dads. Funny, Coach didn't feel it necessary to give the "play nicely" speech to the Grownup Squad before the first whistle. Perhaps he's acutely aware of the well-honed Killer Instinct young boys exhibit when given opportunity (and permission) to pummel their parents on the playing field. And right from the opening kick, this game proved much less...civilized...than yesterday's match. There was (good-natured) trash-talking, there was (lighthearted) shoving, there was no quarter expected or given by either team. And if I had to sum up the experience? So. Much. F-U-N! In the end, we fought to a satisfying 4-4 tie. (More critically, at least to me: I performed acceptably well and did not embarrass myself in front of my offspring. This time.)

I like to think that we parents approach this annual ritual with an eyes-wide-open attitude. We know perfectly well that very soon--probably next year, in fact--at least our older sons are going to permanently cross that threshold where they're bigger, and stronger, and faster than us, and there'll be no looking back from that point on. (Because we are only going to get older and slower! Darn it!) So for one more year, we savored the even outcome...and treated ourselves to some well-deserved extra cake!

Friday, November 11, 2011

Progressing Nicely...

This week, I feel like Autumn has truly arrived at last. (I know, I know, it's November already. But around here, "September" should just be called "Son of August" since the weather usually remains Summer-like for the entire month. And October can't make up its mind one way or the other, so we get a crazy mixture of heat and chilliness that keeps us in fleecy jackets one day and tee-shirts the next...except of course my warm-blooded children, who refuse to concede to wearing long pants unless given a direct Parental Order...which I'm not inclined to deliver. Eh, nobody ever died from cold knees, right? Um, what was my point again? Oh, yeah: it's all a big tease, weather-wise, until right about...now.)

Maybe it was the switch back to Standard Time. (Which by the way I have every intention of whining about until December 20th, the blessed day when we start winning our afternoon daylight back...one precious minute at a time.) Or the cascades of leaves that have suddenly decided RIGHT THIS SECOND to leap off the trees into our backyard. (I diligently rake them all up into neat mounds, and I swear the minute my back is turned, I hear the telltale rustling that signals another wave of them is preparing to blanket the yard. Darn you, Leaf Goblins, for taunting me!) Or the fact that Soccer has ended, leaving us with a loooong, dark, cold stretch of time until the Spring Season begins in April. (Oh, who am I kidding with that? Derek and Riley have been outside all week, dribbling a ball in and out of my leaf piles and passing to me while I rake. Spring Training starts mighty early around here, let me tell ya.)

And of course, let us not forget that honored and anticipated harbinger of Fall: the first Report Card of the school year. That's right, nine weeks of academic endeavors have flown by, and we eagerly await news of how the little gooberheads--I mean Scholars--have progressed in their studies. This is kind of a momentous year in the Grades Department, as Riley switches from the O/S/N system (which has always seemed kind of arbitrary and...wishy-washy to me anyway. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad my kid is "Outstanding" in Math, but what does that even mean?) to the universally-understood A/B/C scale. And Derek...his quarterly report includes an actual GPA calculation for the first time. (Welcome to the Big Time, young man! And by the way, from here on in you'll have to watch it, 'cuz the numbers don't lie!) In Derek's case, I had been keeping tabs on his work all along, thanks to the magic of EdLine. The exact point total for every homework assignment, every project, every quiz, every test (every time he scratched his nose...just kidding, but there's so much information, I almost wouldn't be surprised if they also recorded his behavior...just as well that they don't!) showed up electronically, pretty much the day it happened, so not only did I already have his grades, I knew what he had earned in each class, down to the precise number. (Calculated to one decimal point--how's that for thorough?) So, no mystery, and no ugly shocks either. Also, for the very first time in his scholastic career, I didn't have to schedule a Parent/Teacher Conference. Apparently, that's a nurturing, bonding Elementary School thing; in Middle School, you only meet with the teachers if there's a problem to discuss, and the Counselor informs you that you must come in to address it. No notification = your kid's not in trouble...whew!

Then there's Riley, still enclosed in the caring, sharing confines of Elementary School, where Mom makes a special appointment to go in and hear what his teacher has to say about his performance in class. After the extraordinarily bumpy transition to 3rd grade, Riley seems to have settled in, finally. (Or accepted his fate? Whatever, it's a relief not to have to deal with tears and fears every morning.) He still occasionally complains about Math being "difficult"...but his preposterously-high test scores indicate that he's grasping the concepts just fine, regardless of how hard he thinks he's toiling away. What was more startling is that his teacher wants him to...speak up more during reading group. Excuse me, what was that? (I actually glanced behind me at that point, to see if she suddenly began addressing some other parent, whose kid is quiet and shy.) Are we referring to the child who N-E-V-E-R stops chattering? Who holds conversations with himself when no one is around (or willing) to listen? Who has a tendency to break into (familiar, or self-composed) songs with little or no warning at any given moment? All I can say is: be careful what you wish for, because once he gets fully comfortable in class, you may never hear the end of him! (Then I'll be right back in there, for a very different meeting...)

So, overall the boys achieved a successful first quarter. Naturally Derek, the savvy 6th-grader, accepted the praise due him for his excellent efforts, then immediately wanted to know: What do I get for doing well? Evidently "my utmost respect and high regard" just didn't cut it, so I offered the next best thing: "Um, how about...pizza?" This was met with cries of "whoo hoo!" (Derek) and "best Mommy ever!" (Riley) so I suppose I chanced upon an acceptable incentive. It's good to know that, even in their more advanced stages of learning these days, the boys can still be motivated with cheap carryout food! Whoo hoo indeed!

Sunday, November 6, 2011

A Saga of Two Seasons

With just one game left in the Fall 2011 Soccer Season for both of my sons, we witnessed today one of--if not the most--dramatic day of play we've ever seen so far in their young lives. Derek's U12 Radioactives had strung together an impressive 5-2 record during the regular season, dominating other teams in their wins and scoring a prolific amount of goals. They headed into the playoffs as the 3rd seed, behind the two squads that had beaten them. One of those teams boasts big, strong boys who play a highly aggressive style of soccer. Our guys have always felt intimidated when matched up against this team (mentally "psyching themselves out"), and therefore have tended to play tentatively. Needless to say, the other team has beaten us...handily...a number of times over the years. And who did we meet today on the field? Of course, the dreaded "Yellow Team". Our players seemed calm, but we parents/spectators were a wreck on the sidelines, let me tell you.

Without subjecting you to the minute-by-minute recap ('cuz I could do it, don't test me!), suffice it to say both teams put on a sports exhibition, with a level of skill and competition that would make FIFA proud. The blazing speed, the crisp passing, the dazzling ball-handling, the heartstopping goalie-saves...it was a jaw-dropping spectacle from the spectator seats. (I'm serious, SportsCenter should totally have been filming this one!) The Radioactives challenged this rival team in a way that they never have managed to pull off before. At some point in the second half, Derek chipped a perfectly-placed shot over the opposing goalie into the net, for his green team's only goal. Unfortunately, the Yellow Team tied it up a few minutes later, and that's how it stood at the end of 60-minutes plus overtime, 1-1. Then...everyone got to suffer through the most brutal event in the World of Soccer: Penalty Kicks. (They should just drop the cute euphemism and call them what they really are: Slow Torture--for the kicker, the goalie...and the agonized parents). And the final result? Derek's team, having poured every last bit of their heart and guts onto the field, ended up losing by one shot. Although several of his teammates broke down in tears when it was over, we adults felt absolutely nothing but intense pride for our kids They never backed down, they gave it everything they had, and they astounded even those of us who've been watching them since, oh, first grade. Just...wow. (And thank goodness Derek himself, being his father's laid-back son, took the defeat fully in stride. He seems to instinctively flow with the concept of "Win Some, Lose Some". Within 10 minutes of the final whistle, he was happily throwing a football around with a pack of his teammate-pals. Resiliency is a beautiful thing!)

But, the day was not over for some of us. After being subjected to that emotional wringer, we still needed to mosey over to the adjacent field and cheer on Riley's U10 Hornets, already embroiled in their own fierce playoff contest. Now these little guys, bringing a wide variety of soccer experience and skill to their team (a mixture of "younger brothers", like Riley--who have been kicking a ball around practically since they learned to walk--with some relative novices thrown in) had posted a 2-5 record leading up to the playoffs. Recently, however, they had started to show vast improvement in their teamwork and overall play, and had finally seemed to "gel" as a unit on the field. Rather than the early-season (utterly ineffective) tactic of "swarming to the ball", they were doing a much better job of playing their positions, looking for teammates to pass to, moving the ball downfield, and defending their goal. (Here again it's easy to separate the newbies from the old hands--um, feet--there's Riley, who approaches the match with calm determinism, every throw-in, every pass, every clear...and then there are still munchkins who pump their fist every time they get a foot on the ball. But hey, their eight-year old exuberance is adorable!) With less than a minute left in the game, the score stood all tied-up at 1-1. Sound familiar? Inwardly I cringed, and braced myself for yet another gut-wrenching overtime situation. But wait...Riley has the ball, he dribbles toward the goal, he sends a pass across the middle to his friend (AKA the team's goal-scoring leader), who shoots...and scores! A thrilling last-second victory for the Hornets (and a vast relief for this Mom, who had frankly used up about a month's worth of adrenaline and was ready for a nap...yes, at noon.)

So, we enjoyed an altogether inspiring day of athletic accomplishment (with enough nail-biting moments thrown in to keep us on our toes) that I'm sure we'll remember for quite some time. It certainly was a rousing way to end the season, and now we can relax and...oh wait, I almost forgot...we have to do it again one more time...tomorrow! Maybe I can find some Valium lying around before then...

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Balanced Nutrition for the Lazy Chef

I know this is going to come as a tremendous shock to everyone, but today I'm going to write about FOOD...again! (Jeez, you'd think it was one of my absolute favorite things on the planet, or something!) Now, we all know I strive to be pretty health-conscious, and to make good choices when it comes to my family's diet. (Yes, I'm the one standing in your way in the grocery store, reading the fine print on each and every label, scanning for the word "hydrogenated" (a deal breaker) and the amount of fiber (important, but negotiable). However, given the fact that I consider cooking, shall we say, a Necessary Evil, at best, I encounter some difficult challenges when faced with the dilemma of how to feed a houseful of hungry males--without working too hard at it.

So how do I resolve the conflict of preparing tasty, nutritious...simple...meals that meet my requirements but also satisfy the large-and-small boys? (Drumroll, please) I CHEAT! That's right, you heard me. I load the freezer up with fish sticks and breaded chicken patties and microwaveable cheeseburgers and prepared ravioli, and when things are crazy (hello, soccer-practice-nights) I pull something out. A few minutes of toaster-oven-baking or nuking or boiling, and I can present hot food to empty bellies. Somewhere deep down in the Domestic Goddess area of my brain, do I experience the teensiest bit of guilt about this? He...ck, no! Of course, I still ensure that the convenience foods I choose are as minimally-processed and naturally-derived as possible. (Yeah, that's also me, blocking the freezer compartment at Costco, shivering and skimming ingredient lists...Sorry.) But after that, I plop it on the table and don't look back. Even when I allow the occasional...hotdog (gasp! I know, nitrites are horrible! But you wanna know what's even worse? TOFU dogs! Take it from me, even the confirmed vegetarian can't go there...) I refuse to agonize about it. I figure as long as I serve green beans or broccoli with it, the veggie-vitamins cancel out the meat by-products. (That is how it works, right? Just humor me!)

I don't mean to sound as though I never bother to make a home-cooked dinner from scratch, because in between sports seasons, when things aren't quite so hectic, I pull out the recipe books and exert (a little) effort from time to time. And I suspect that Fall soccer is reaching its end not a moment too soon for our cuisine-deprived family. Example: the other night Derek was sleeping over at a friend's house and Riley got to decide what he wanted for dinner. ("Anything you want, honey, check the cabinets", I generously offered, expecting him to select cereal or a sandwich and chips or, if he was feeling especially wild, pancakes.) His eyes lit up, and without even pausing to weigh his options, he instantly exclaimed: "Ramen noodles!" Oh. My. Goodness. What have I done? I'll tell you what: I've inadvertently gone and created the world's shortest...college student. Sigh. What can I say--at least he selected something cheap, fast, and easy (and not McDonald's)! On a further positive note, as his mother, I can rest assured that when I send him off to a university somewhere in 10 years, he'll already possess the valuable knowledge of how to feed himself in his dorm room when necessary during those long, late...study sessions. (I know I'm being delusional, but keep working with me, will ya?) So really, my work here is done! In fact, I may even deserve a reward for a job well done...hmm, now where did I hide that leftover Halloween candy...