Music is Just Not His Thing

Just a few short years ago Evan lived for the annual pre-school spring show. He danced, clapped and sang louder than any of the others. 

Not too long after his stellar performance as a fish, he had the leading role in the second grade musical as Ferb from Phinneus and Ferb and loved it. I mean, look at that smile.

For some reason, though, school music programs don't hold the same level of allure anymore. In fact, when you are eleven, they are considered the very worst of punishments. 

There were no smiles, no clapping, and just the movement of the mouth to indicate a hint of participation in tonight's performance. 

Please tell me there is an opt-out option for music in middle school. 

Entrepreneur

Evan got the Rainbow Loom for his birthday. I didn't really know how I should react when Evan told me he wanted a loom and an assortment of rubber bands. Never mind the request is a bit girly and every bit crafty. It included an assortment of 300 RUBBER BANDS!

Evan asks for very little, though, so when he asked for a $25 box of RUBBER BANDS for his birthday, I was happy to oblige, if not a bit perplexed. As it turns out, the joke's on me.

He has since started a business venture where he uses the Rainbow Loom to make and sell rubber band bracelets to kids at school. Every day he packs his back pack with his morning snack, his agenda, his homework, and his Rainbow Loom. Before and after school, you can find him in the cafeteria hawking his goods. In the evenings after he does his homework and after he has taken a shower, he sits at the kitchen counter making bracelets to hopefully sell the following day. This week the business had grown so much we suggested he use his football notebook, the one he uses to keep track of weekly stats and predictions, to make a spreadsheet of sorts to outline his profits and his expenses. He told us he wasn't interested in all that because he could figure out how much money he had earned by counting the one dollar bills in the drawer of his bedside table. In other words, the football notebook is still considered too sacred to be used to record anything but football. To be honest, I was relieved to hear this because the talk of producing bracelets to match various outfits had me worried that he had taken it all a bit too far. 

Winter Basketball

The boys' first basketball games were today. This is Keagan's favorite sport. He has asked me several times if I will find a travel basketball team for him, and after today's performance, I think I just might honor that request. It was a sad, sad day for the Predators. The only saving grace is he was placed on a team that includes a couple of boys that are on his travel soccer team. My poor boy is out dribbling between his legs while some of his teammates are shooting on the wrong goal and clapping when the other team scores. It is frustrating beyond belief - for him and me.

The look on his face says it all.

Evan's team, on the other hand, has three fairly strong players and won their first game rather easily. He just so happens to be on a team that also includes a couple of boys from his soccer team. He was the tallest boy on the court and rebounded effortlessly today. I'm not really sure what happened to him this week, but Tuesday night he went to bed at 7:30. Wednesday night he ate three bar-b-que sandwiches for dinner, and Thursday morning, he put on a pair of jeans, that fit last week, and are now 1/4 an inch too short. I am completely amazed at how much this kid continues to grow and amazed at how much money I've had to spend on clothing in the last six months.

We're back at it next weekend. I'm praying God switches allegiance to the Predators and Evan stops growing long enough to wear the winter clothes I bought last month.

Old Man Winter

We woke up to snow this morning. People it's not even winter yet. I can't begin to imagine how I will survive this winter...

Celebrating Eleven Years Times Four

We celebrated Evan's birthday today with three of his soccer teammates, who just all four happen to have birthdays within two weeks of one another.

We joined the rest of the team for a game of paintball.

Keagan joined them, and even though Evan had never played before, he was full of advice.

As it turns out, Keagan didn't need it. He was shooting 'em up all on his own!

Evan said it was the best party, ever! Guns and battles in the woods? What eleven year old wouldn't like that?

Truth be told. I think the dads had just as much fun.

Wishing the happiest of birthdays to William, Evan, Harrison, and Jack!

Evan is Eleven

My dearest Evan turned 11 years old today. We celebrated with dinner at a restaurant surrounded by a huge aquarium. We ate fish while we oohed and aahed at the fish swimming for our entertainment.

When Evan was not yet two he was diagnosed with a severe case of apraxia. We were told he might never talk and that he would require extensive speech therapy to learn to communicate verbally. The young therapist that diagnosed Evan was obviously wrong. I mention this because my hopes and dreams for my boy are so different today than what they were just a few short years ago. Nine years ago my biggest hope was that he would learn to say simple words and communicate in phrases. Today my hopes and dreams for him know no limits.

My hope, dear Evan, is that you will never lose your competitive spirit and that your dream to compete as a professional athlete will come to fruition. May your hard work and dedication on the field bring you the personal satisfaction that so few people have the joy of experiencing day in and day out.

My dream is that you continue to excel academically and your intense desire to learn will never fade. May your desire to explore the unknown and ask the questions that others never dream persist.

My hope is that your leadership skills will cultivate a yearning to lead an entire generation of young people to think beyond selves and reach out to others. Playground kickball teams and petitions for football at recess can be the beginnings of a much larger movement.

My dream is that your abstract understandings of justice and your strong personal conviction that all should be treated fairly will lead you to fight for the injustices experienced every day by others. May you continue to take a stand for those that cannot take a stand for themselves.

May you continue to smile big and laugh for the joy of laughing. May your life be filled with happiness.

Dramatic Act

Today Keagan was sent home with what the school nurse thought was a concussion. Before school, he was playing a game of football and fell backwards onto a slab of concrete. He was taken to the nurse for an ice pack, and clearly understanding he could milk this head injury thing for all it was worth, claimed he was feeling light headed. Then he mentioned he felt nauseous. A few minutes later he mentioned he fell into a fire hydrant when he lived in Georgia. Then we had what we call the head injury trifecta. And my phone began to ring.

When I mentioned to the school nurse that Keagan could be a little dramatic at times, she was adamant that we had a serious situation and that he needed to be seen by a doctor ASAP. Two hours later, after securing a sub, writing lesson plans for a sub, and making sure my afternoon meetings were covered, I finally made it to the school to pick him up.  A sad faced little boy met me in the office, I listened to the instructions of spending the next ten hours in a dark room with no TV or video games, and I signed him out. And my sad faced little boy proceeded to SKIP to the car and after securing his seat belt he said, "I can't believe this, Mom. I am going home with a football injury."

I knew then that the nurse had been duped. Tricked. Hoodwinked. Whatever you call it, I had been right after all. A very convincing act got him out of school for the day. We left the parking lot, and my Chatty Cathy started a monologue about the bladders of cats and how amazed he is with the bladder capacity of his pet cat.

Because I heard the nurse's warning to avoid bright lights, I drove to Target and took him shopping with me. I made him walk through the homegoods section and look at new bath mats. I made him follow me into the women's section while I searched for a black cardigan. I even made him walk through the lingerie aisles, and he was still just as chipper as could be. He was skipping school, after all.

On the way home my Chatty Cathy started monologue number two on the decline of Toby Keith's singing career. Then we got home and he spent an hour making pillow forts and persuading the cat to be his fortress protector.

 On our way back to the school to pick up Evan, monologue number three on the colors of fall leaves commenced.

The concussion was obviously slowing him down.

I put him to bed tonight, and he said, "Mom, you heard the nurse. A concussion can take days to go away. IF I am not feeling better tomorrow morning, then I think we need to take her advice and spend another twelve hours in a dark room." Recognizing my doubt, he added, "It's for safety reasons, Mom."

Oh, he's good. Real good. But not that good. He will back at school tomorrow, and I will go to bed thanking God he is a great actor and nothing serious came from his fall.