Read Across the Living Room

It has just "clicked" in the last few weeks! Dr. Seuss would be proud!

Reading of "The Wig" from Rachel Broderhausen on Vimeo.

And I realize my last few posts have been about Audrey. Mr. 9 yr old doesn't generate so many blog-worthy, heart wrenching posts these days. It's mostly because his stories often don't feel like my stories to tell.

But if you look at this picture (I am almost barfing that I'm posting it), you might be able to tell what my right-footed boy spends most of his waking hours doing. (HINT: Involves a black and white ball, and at school, a muddy field).

If you can't see it, the entire right big toe side of the shoe is blowing out. Lots of kicking, I guess!


And if it's not soccer, it's this...

Winning and Losing

Overheard while The Boy was watching the Super Bowl awards ceremony with Daddy....

Boy: Daddy, where is the Arizona coach? Why isn't he out there?
Daddy: He's probably in the locker room. He's kind of sad because his team didn't win.
Boy: Why aren't the Arizona players out there on the field?
Daddy: They're sad too. It's Pittsburgh's celebration, so the Cardinals aren't out there.

Someday soon, he will suffer a crushing defeat on the baseball or soccer field. And then he will understand why they weren't out on the field.

But today, he didn't really care that much. Because he's a Steelers fan anyway.
Remember he was only 3 during the 2006 Super Bowl, so he doesn't have the deep Steeler anger. Having my sister and the cousins in Pittsburgh definitely helps. Plus he likes to root for the favorite--higher chance your team will win, you know..


Here's The Boy, Big Ben, his Steelers helmet, and another shot of our pathetic tv. I was horrified to realize the glare is fingerprints, and I cleaned it after the photo. I can't believe I'm posting this picture, and I don't know how they watched the game, honestly.
(see below for history of the helmets)


Steelers win!


The helmets are Daddy's collection from when he was little. They were the Happy Meal-type toy from some burger place, and he must have eaten quite a few burgers. We've shown a few to The Boy, but a couple of weeks ago, he broke out the whole collection. At bedtime.
At least Mama was off the hook for getting him to bed. Once the sports questions start, I am officially off duty. I have trouble hiding my glee when that happens, and have been known to snicker out loud. I deserve it, after 6 years of being the preferred bedtime "tuck-er in-er."

Good news and bad news

As an alternative to the daily kindergarten journal writing, The Boy's fabulous teacher gave them a news assignment. They picked Good News or Bad/Sad News and had to write two sentences and draw a picture about their story.

The good news is that he dashed off two sentences willingly, with just some help from me sounding out the words. If you've been following the drama around here, you know about the new love of football. (Pssst... I am very close to being off the hook for most of the sports discussions around here)

If you can't see the photo very well (sorry, dark kitchen..), I'll interpret

THE SEHOCS LOST TO THE PATREOTS. THR QUORTRBAC WS INJRD.

The Seahawks lost to the Patriots. Their quarterback was injured. That was bad news.

And yes, those are shoulder pads and face masks in the picture. Remember, there are lots of fun activities to do when you get done with your news story, so why spend the whole writing time on your picture??

The moment has arrived.

I just heard The Boy say, "Dad, can we watch football?"

And there's some discussion of which team has won the most games, have they won more than the Huskies, and could this college team beat our poor Seahawks.

Although right now I hear him doing some annoying play with his old Sesame Street cash register, pushing the keys over and over so it says, "seven, sev, sev, seven, sssssss, seven, sev, sev, seven."

I figured with such a sports fan for a father, he would eventually take an interest. He's always loved to throw balls, and "buh-ball" for basketball was his first big word. Last spring it was baseball, and he watched a little more of a few Mariners games than before. Then during soccer season, he was always asking to go outside and kick the ball, but not so much for watching soccer on tv.

But one day I called while I was out, and they were poring over the stats page in the newspaper, and according to The Boy, "figuring out who were the worst players on the Seahawks." He's been playing football at recess with his friends, and has spent a few evenings outside throwing the ball with Daddy.

But this is what I've been dreaming about... That one day, they might say, "Mom, shhhh and leave us alone. We're watching football."

And then I'll have three hours to myself.

Now to work on Bitty Girl's love of football. Maybe a purple and pink football in her stocking??

Skater Boy

The Boy's school has a roller skating party practically every month. Yes, I know you're jealous, wishing you, too, could spend two hours on a Monday evening sitting on the same red carpeted mushroom benches that have been there since "Grease" was a new hit movie, watching shaggy-haired sweaty 12-year old boys try to do skateboarding tricks on their inline skates.

Green with envy - I see you.

But the Boy, who begged for rollerblades last year and dutifully practiced, can really skate by himself. He hardly falls, and he gets right back up.

And they play YMCA, Journey, Queen, and tonight - Corey Hart songs. (Mom, remember taking me to the concert in 8th grade? Thanks again)
So basically, I love it, except for the newer music, which scares me. Also, the big kids scare me. I seriously have to avert my eyes so that I don't imagine The Boy's face under one of those shaggy greasy hairdos, with those saggy pants and "I wish I was a real tough guy" look. Don't even get me started on the 3rd grade girls with the tight jeans and inappropriate t-shirts.

I wish I had pictures, but I would definitely be "that mom who embarrasses her kid" if I took any photos. Who am I kidding, I'm going to be her anyway. Next month - PHOTOS!

Part II of Skater Boy will deal with the slight heartbreak I experience watching him try to navigate sliding onto the bench from a full skate, to keep up with a faster 1st grade friend, and being disappointed that most of his friends weren't there tonight because they had basketball practice. The basketball team that we decided NOT to have him join.

Too Tired for Words

We really are. Between getting up early for 8:00 am school every day, soccer practice and games, and Bitty Girl giving up her lovely habit of an afternoon nap, we're all a few hours short of well-rested.

But The Boy is loving school and soccer, he switched from scoring an "own goal" one week to having an assist another week.

Assorted photos of a kick in motion,


a throw-in,


and the post-game huddle!

So far so good

We made it through another week of kindergarten! The Boy has surprised us and done really well, settling in with no major drama. He likes his teacher, is making friends in his class, and seems to be enjoying himself.
Have I mentioned that he's exhausted? All this fun, plus a lot of soccer practice and games, takes a lot out of you.

And that's him in the pile on the left below. He runs so hard and concentrates so hard during soccer, but it's hysterical to watch them play. And heartbreaking - last week he scored an "own goal," which happens when you kick it accidentally in YOUR TEAM'S OWN GOAL!!! oops.
No one really seemed to care, luckily, including The Boy. Must figure out how to post videos on the blog, for some real entertainment.

Bitty Girl, on the other hand, is showing signs of the honeymoon being over. She, too, is exhausted. And Tuesday she CRIED and CRIED when I dropped her off at daycare. She did fine, but both days when I picked her up, she ran to me crying out of sheer relief, like "Oh thank god you came back!" She's either just tired or 2 yrs old or getting some new molars, or all of the above. Because she is Grouchy McGrouchypants lately, not napping well, very fussy and wants mama a lot. In other words, not what we're used to from Bitty Girl.

We're giving ourselves a few weeks for adjustment. But we've had beautiful weather, good health so far (knock on all available wood, please), and great teachers, so we're thankful.

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.