Sweet Deal

I feel like I have spent the last fifteen years waiting to see what the Army will do...with our assignment, with a promotion, with a school, with our lives. I am waiting again, but I am planning next year without knowing if we are staying four more months or staying three more years.

Today, though, Keagan was offered an opportunity that is just too hard to resist, and even if we leave in October, I am going to pretend we have years left in our assignment and just go for it.

He received his first invite for a select team try out today - a very professional invite complete with a business card and a request of release from our present coach. So very classy and professional that I just want to say yes and yes again without even considering the other two possibilities.

Don't let the relaxed pose in the picture taken after today's win fool ya, though. He and his sweet feet are giddy with excitement.

This Will Drive Me to Drinking

If I wasn't responsible for driving my track star to the quick track at 0830 for a regional track meet, I would have had my first drink at 0800 because this morning at 0745 Keagan decided he no longer wanted to run track. He put on his soccer shin guards and his Gator uniform and declared himself ready for the drive to Savannah. It took 30 minutes and even more threats to get him into his track shorts and Rockets shirt. Even after I pushed him into the car, even after I said multiple prayers on the way to post, even after I explained that his track team needed him just as much as his soccer team, he was inconsolable about missing soccer. An hour later, after a hard run, after stretching, and after warm up laps, he was still crying about it.

Thoughts of a libations entered my mind again at noon. I was cold. It was raining. And Keagan was still begging me to drive him to Savannah to play soccer with his brother. I was ready to gouge my eyes out. No one told me track meets could be so painful to sit and watch; no one told me it would be so hard to miss a soccer game.

And then this happened.

My nerves were shot. My hands began to shake. I started praying.

I was near faint because this was the 400m race, and after three weeks of track practices, he has never run or trained for this race. Sweet Jesus, what were the coaches thinking?

He got third place, though. Yeah!!!

Just a few short minutes later, his name was called again.....for the 800m. Having never run this race either, he looked at me with big eyes, and asked, "How far is that, Mama?"

"Two laps, Baby." As he ran to check in for the race, I yelled the best piece of advice I had, "Don't sprint until the second lap." And then I paced and paced, and for the third time today, I wished I could take a swig of something strong.

He got second, though!!! Yeah!!!

After five hours of sitting and waiting and even after all that success, he looked at me and asked, "Can we go already? Maybe we can make the last soccer game."

Yes, I think it's time for the drink.

White Boys Can Run and Jump

Keagan's First Track Meet...He was so nervous this morning, he let his brother eat his blueberry waffles. There was no Leggo my Eggos in this house.

He ran the 50 meter race and got second place, but I swear to you that he lost it by the tip of the other boy's nose. He ran the 100 and got first. He ran it in 16 seconds flat; the Georgia state record is 14:56. My heart was fluttering with the news. He crossed the finish line, and I wanted to scream, "That's my boy!" But of course our matching pale skin color revealed that secret without my uttering a word.

Keagan's field event is the running long jump. He is serious about the long jump....just like he's serious about his meats. Just look at that face. The other boys are looking at bugs in the grass, and Keagan has his eyes locked on the sand pit.

The boy was flying in the air like he had done this for years. How does he do it? I remember attempting the long jump when I was in seventh grade. I swear to you that I jumped less than five feet, and that's when the coach realized there was really no hope for me and gently suggested I give the discus a try. I did, and on the second day of training, my aim was so off, my disc hit a fellow track team member in the knee. I think that's when I was told the 800 meter would be my event. How can Keagan make it look so simple? He won the running long jump with a 9-1 jump, a full foot short of his record, I might add.

I kid you not. I overheard one parent ask another, "Have you seen the white boy run?"
"What's he run....the 800?"
"No, Man, the boy runs sprints, and he's actually fast."
"Really? Hummm. Don't see that everyday."

Guess who asked me to take him to the track tomorrow to train? 

Ain't Afraid of No Ghosts

It's been three months and the Kindle Fires are still the best Christmas presents ever. The boys spend hours listening to music, downloading new apps, and playing games. It provides hours of entertainment. Take this week's find called Ghost Radar Classic. It is a radar screen that detects the movement of ghosts within a room. Although the boys don't really believe in the app or ghosts (at least I hope they don't), they find the "game" of ghost hunts real entertaining. The app revealed ghosts in Keagan's room, and the boys told me today that the ghosts can be scared away with signs. They explained that the message boards must be made of wood and the go-away message must be painted in blood and it must hang above the front door of the house. I think the boys might be combining a piece of folklore with the Passover. After all, we're just two weeks shy of Easter. Just the same, I have made them pinky swear that they will abstain from any sign making - especially sign making that requires blood.

We have also found Truth or Dare app. We played this weekend because it is only after our weekly Saturday sporting events that our fun really begins. The boys were given the dare to switch pants. Keagan got Evan's three sizes too large pajama shorts that slid straight down to his knees with one step, and Evan got Keagan's three sizes too small pajama pants that, well, hugged him in all the wrong places. Evan strutted his stuff around the house and asked, "Do these tight pants make my butt look too big?" Perhaps, I have used him as my full length mirror one too many times.

Last, but not least, we have Good Fart. If my grandmother reads this, she might just disown us. However, in order to stay true to the blog's mission of maintaining sweet memories of my boys' youth, I must push on. This app makes random gas sounds, and with each push of a button, the boys match the sound with the maker. We get, "That's a Daddy fart" all the time. We try to keep it classy here in the sticks of Georgia...after all, Christmas has passed, and we no longer have Christmas ornaments to shoot off the tree decorated in the front yard.

The boys actually read on the Kindles. Really they do. It just so happens the book that Evan is currently reading is Sweet Farts: Book 2. The fact that we read book one and still purchased book 2 probably reveals more about us that I should admit. However, let it be known that we can add reading to the list of time fillers.

What Time is It?

Keagan: Mom, can you tell me where 8/7 Central is on the clock?

Me: What?

Keagan: I want to watch a show tonight and it comes on at 8/7 Central. I can't find it on the clock! Tell me when it gets that time, OK?

Track Practice

Keagan's dream of running track has been realized, and since he has begged me to sign him up for track since he saw the summer Olympics of 2008, I am relieved that he finally meets the age cut-off and I don't have to hear his persistent cries of "just let me run." This week I have actually looked forward to another event (ie: track practice) on our calendar. Here's why.

On MLK day, he was up way too early, donned his athletic wear, and told me he needed to go out for some fresh air. I knew that was code for he wanted to go for a run. I specifically told him he could run to the bus stop and back, but no further.
Ten minutes later I didn't see him, but I assumed he was running the route several times.
Fifteen minutes later he was no where to be seen.
Twenty minutes later I worried.
Twenty-five minutes later I threw off my robe and my PJs, threw on my own athletic wear, and I took off in the car in search of him. I was not a happy camper because although I knew it was already 8:01, I also knew there wasn't anyone up that early in a military town on a federal holiday, and here I was searching for my son on the cold, dark streets. It was a day I wished I could have looked at Wes and say, "Go find your son!"
I found him at the bus stop, though, after he had run a two mile route...twice.
I got on to him, and I am afraid I was really harsh. He looked at me with those big blue eyes and said, "I can't help it, Momma. I just gotta run."

He is now running, and running more than I ever thought possible for a seven year old. Tonight he ran three 100 meters, three 200 meters, and two 400 meters races. He won them all. He came home and said, "Mom, this is hard work, but I love it. Really love it."

Love it all you want, Baby, as long as you learn to hate it on federal holidays. 

First Place Win

The boys won first place in this weekend's tournament....May we all cherish this moment because it has taken us 18 months to win first place in a tournament, and if it is another 18 months before it happens again, well, I just might cry.

I have a week for all of the mosquito and sand gnat bites to heal, for the sunburn on my face to fade, and for the smell of soccer cleats to leave my nose before we play again next weekend.

I can't wait.

Delivering Wins in All Types of Weather

I have watched soccer games in the wind, rain, and hail. Today I can add tornado to the list. Even worse than that, though, were the sand gnats swarming in my face in groups so large I thought they were small birds.

It was all worth it, I think, because we left day one of the weekend tournament with a win.

Wine Night

Friday night I had some friends from work over to my place. We called it "Wine Night" because drinking alone is never as much fun, and after Tuesday, we were all going home and doing just that, drinking alone. Keagan was uber-excited about this so called Wine Night. The mention of visitors always throws him into a tizzy because it happens so rarely and he knows the mention of visitors can be equated with good food - something other than the grilled cheese sandwich he can expect on a usual Friday night. His excitement carried over to school on Friday morning, and I received a note from his teacher that said, "Keagan has invited me to your place for tonight's Wine Night. He says I could use a night of relaxation."

But it gets even better.

When I picked him up from school on Friday afternoon, he asked if we had any sporting events to attend and since Friday is the ONLY day during the week that we are free of smelly cleats, foot races, and man-to-man defense, I was happy to say that we were headed straight home. As he left the group of sixty or so kiddos in after-care, he yells, "Oh, Mom! Don't you remember? Tonight is WINE NIGHT!!! Let's get started with the fun."

A few minutes later, Evan says, "Wait, isn't wine ALQUAHOL? Mom, we have seen a few episodes of Intervention. Are you sure about this?"