Sunday, April 27, 2008

Worth every penny

I will never again complain about how much we pay for preschool. The Boy was home sick Monday and Friday last week, and I have a new appreciation of how much value we are getting for our three preschool days a week.

He wasn't even that sick, but with a cough and runny nose, I just didn't feel right sending him to school to infect the masses.

But I learned how much I treasure my alone time with Bitty Girl, how little work I get done when he's home, and how much tv time he tries to weasel when he's sick.

I'm guessing that the preschool teachers learned how quiet their classrooms were without him. Maybe they even missed him--a little?

Here's to a new week, fewer tissues, and 3 Full Days of School!

Friday, April 18, 2008

T-ball, anyone?

Well, at least we don't have to stand out in the rain for t-ball practice tomorrow morning...
Thanks to some freaky weather pattern and our lovely choice of home in the famous "Convergent Zone," we are seeing this tonight...

Pat thinks it's more than mere coincidence that we have the latest spring snow in 36 years on the same day that the NBA voted to let the Sonics leave town. He thinks Mother Nature is mad. And maybe God too.

Snow was only the end of a day of hail, rain, freezing rain, slushy rain, and icy rain. Just makes you want to break out the summer clothes.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

T-ball: a window on the world

The Boy has started t-ball. He could start at 5, even without being in kindergarten yet, and his team is mixed with first and second-year players. He's taken a few community center music and gymnastics classes, and a non-competitive soccer skills class, but this is his first real "team."

We have definitely stepped into a microcosm of society, this thing they call Little League. It's a big league, with about 800 kids playing all the way up to what they call "Majors." No pressure there. Fancy fields, complete with required parent fundraisers and elaborate concession stand. Must get gray baseball pants, cleats, no cup required yet (YET? THIS IS T-BALL!!!), have mitt and bat, decide on batting helmet later.

A few practices and two games later, and he loves it. Whew. Don't mind the tongue. That's just his usual photo pose for the last, oh, YEAR!

With our "slow to warm up" boy who hates new things, I was afraid we'd be dragging him to the field. He is definitely not the fastest kid on the team, and since half of them played last year, he's running to figure things out, but he's having fun. His coach is wonderful, very encouraging and fun, without the pressure I was fearing. Some of the kids are already friends, and several go to the neighboring school, where The Boy will go in September.

Watching him practice is like a workout for my heart. I don't want him to get embarrassed if he doesn't know something or can't throw as far as the other kids, or puts the batting glove on the wrong hand, or isn't the fastest kid on the team. Trying to watch him (and, at one practice, chase Bitty Girl) and meet the other parents leaves me exhausted.

I wonder how much of my anxiety he can feel? He's so much like me, and while I'm trying to look encouraging and positive, I'm afraid he can see me worry. I honestly don't care if he's the best hitter or the fastest runner--I just don't want him to feel frustrated.

Sometimes I think he'll do better if I'm not there, projecting my worries onto the field. He hasn't quite figured out yet that Daddy is a much better t-ball parent, since he can coach first base and help you put the catcher's equipment on. All Mommy does is cheer and send weird vibes.