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?"

All Star Shutout

Today was the All Star Basketball Tournament.
We lost by 20-some-odd points.
The mercy rule (ie: the clock runs continuously in the fourth quarter) was put into effect.
We had 9 points to our name after four quarters of play.
It was bad. Real bad. Something akin to the Bad News Bears of Basketball.

But Evan is still an All Star in our minds. We were behind by 21 points when Evan stole the ball from the opponent and passed it down the court to a team mate to score our one basket of the third quarter. I was so excited to see our team do something notable that I stood up and yelled, " Way to go, Evan! WOA! That's my baby!" It was my one chance to say something positive, and I jumped on it.

Otherwise, like right here when Evan went up for a three pointer and got caught jumping, I was yelling, "Oh, jeez! STOP TRAVELING and plant your feet."

It's hard to score, though, much less win, when you are playing a miniature version of a team from the NBA. Trust me when I say that this team's basketball skills were way better that their abilities to match their socks.

Good-bye basketball season. You were good to us this year. We will remember the kind words of our coach who said, "Evan, good job. I don't know why I took a likin' to you. I favored you for some reason. I think it is your heart and your desire to win. I'm going to look you up one day."

Please do, Coach. Like, say, in August because Evan's heart is even more faithful to football.

Soccer Pics

This is for Wes who asked, "Did you get any good pictures at the tournament?" 

This is magical; Evan was caught in mid-air stopping the goal.

In the last game, both boys played forward. This has happened only once before.  The excitement of that moment was so great, I tore my calf muscle. I was luckier this time around, and I left the game with all of my muscles working properly.

Evan won the ball and had a shot at the goal. The right leg kick was too wide. I heard the coach yell, "Shoot with your left!" At that point, it was a little too late to offer any advice.

This team stayed in the same hotel as us and they were from another town in Georgia that has an Army post. Several of the kids on the team were Army brats just like my two. After the tournament, my boys went swimming with this guy. There was never any mention of soccer; just three boys hanging out at the pool.

Keagan is always the smallest. This team had a seven year old on its team, too, and Keagan wanted to go against him so badly. It never panned out that way, though.

Kudos to our friend Vanessa for catching these shots on the field. I took my camera, but I only got pre-game shots. Once the game begins, I don't ever remember to pick up the camera. Luckily, Vanessa does. These are great!