Fuzzy Love

Today, I am a Soccer Mom

Mark had had enough, so this morning I loaded Liam into the minivan (of course) and took him to the gym for parent-participation soccer. It was hilarious. Here's the scene: we are in part of a large gym in a space divided by a large curtain. In one corner is a huge bucket of pint-size soccer balls. There are two goals that are picked up and moved around; they are miniature ones that are soft and bendy so that they can't possibly hurt anyone, even if you ran into them at full speed. The class is for three- through five-year olds, which really is a huge age gap. The four and ups look like they actually want to learn how to play soccer. The three-year-olds (and you can tell who they are) are just there for a good time.

There are probably forty kids enrolled in the class, but of course only half of them show up on any given day. On day one they were divided up into four groups of ten, and each group got a different color shirt (Liam, as you might have noticed, is in the green group). There are also four "coaches;" one is an adult and the other three are teenagers who manage to either look exasperated or bored the whole time. When we arrived today, Liam and the other eight greens that showed up were grouped with the light blues to do drills with two teenagers. The adult coach and other colors went off to a different part of the gym and we didn't see them again.

First up: warm up. All the kids ran to the other side of the gym and back (all of them hitting the wall hard and with enthusiasm). Then they were supposed to do it again while skipping, but it turned out not one kid knew what the heck skipping was. So they all looked confused and started off slowly, kind of jumping along, until one kid gave up and ran and then they all took off. The whole experience was kind of like that: the teenagers would explain what they wanted the kids to do, the kids and parents would listen attentively, and then the kids would do whatever they felt like doing while we parents yelled from the sidelines, "No, wait! You're supposed to be skipping!"

Anyway, fast forward past the girl with a nosebleed, past the two potty breaks Liam insisted he needed because he got bored, past the little boy who kept tipping the goals forward so that no one could use them, and past the other little guy that wouldn't kick the ball but preferred to spin in place (do you think they're all three?). The last twenty minutes of class are devoted to "scrimmage." Since only two light blue kids showed up, there was some shirt trading that went on but Liam stayed on the green team, probably since we were in the bathroom at the time. After a review of the rules (we want to get the ball in that goal and don't use your hands), the game began.

The first kid to get to the ball (a green kid) immediately picked it up, carried it to a spot about five feet from the goal, and tried to kick it in. He missed. So one of the teenagers picked up the ball, restated the rule about no hands ("You guys are killing me!"), and then we tried again. This time the kids started kicking the ball around, although not in any particular direction. That was okay though, since there was no out of bounds in this game. So began a game of what my brother-in-law calls "meteor soccer," since all the kids just follow the ball around. Except Liam wasn't following the ball. He was (I swear to god) in an empty part of the gym, all by himself, running in circles.

I put a stop to the circle running by telling Liam to, "Go get the ball!" Liam immediately stopped, ran over to the big bucket of balls in the corner, and picked one up. It wasn't until I explained that he was supposed to chase the game ball that he got it, and off he went. Now the drills always have the kids stopping the balls with their feet, pausing for a moment with one foot on the ball, and then kicking, so Liam kept trying to do that in the game, which just gave the other kids time to kick the ball away. This was a bit frustrating at times and we had one time out for crying, but he quickly got the hang of it. After all, one of his favorite games is chase.

The high point of the class, no, the day, was near the end of the game. By this time Liam was running comfortably with the pack and was even able to get in a few kicks on the ball. Suddenly there was a small scuffle in the middle of the "field" and Liam emerged from the mass on his knees with the ball in his hands. Both teenagers were yelling, "No hands!" so Liam put the ball down, kicked hard, and the ball went right into the goal. GOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLL! It was great. Liam was thrilled beyond belief. (Not that anyone was keeping track, but the score was three-nothing greens. Those poor light blues had a greater percentage of three-year-olds).

On the way home we stopped off for celebratory hot chocolate.

My Baby Takes the Morning Train

Nothing much going on, really. Mark is enjoying his new job; we are enjoying the return to our old routine. Of course we miss having Mark around, but, quite frankly, we are also enjoying having the chance to miss him. And, come to think of it, we haven't returned to the old routine, really. Mark is now working downtown, which means he takes the train. The train is good: it's usually relaxing, since there is no traffic to deal with and you can read a book or listen to music or whatever. It gives you a chance to let go of work thoughts and transition back to the home world. But the train takes an hour door to door what with driving to the station, walking, waiting, and riding. That means Mark will leave the house at 6:45am (parking at the station fills up fast) and not get home until 6:00pm (on a good day), which is exactly one hour before Olivia goes to bed. That makes for busy evenings.

But the job is going well and it promises to be exciting. Plus he has a blackberry, and new toys are always good (add "surfing the web" to the list of train activities).

In other news, Olivia has learned how to give kisses (big wet ones) and Liam has learned to stick out his tongue when displeased.

Funny Faces

 

Just Hanging Out

Liam left us for a while today. We would have been lonely, except this firefighter showed up and took us all outside to put out fires on the "wewf." Good thing he was there. And good thing I bought last year's costume so big that the pants still have to be rolled up this year.

Freedom from Worries and Rides in a Car

Okay, not free from all worries, but with Mark starting his new job on Monday, today was family fun day. We headed downtown to the Children's Museum of Denver; a fantastic place we used to visit all the time, but had sort of forgotten about since Olivia arrived.

And it's a shame, since Liam is now old enough to enjoy the "big kid" activities and Olivia is happy crawling around pretty much anywhere, although the "little kid" stuff was obviously her favorite.

Of course the day couldn't have been all fun. Unfortunately, we ended up at The Old Spaghetti Factory, a place I remember loving as a child even though it really isn't very good (but back then I also liked my sauce from a can).

A bonus: it is in a very pretty old building and we got to sit in a trolley car to eat. Really. But they were also very slow to serve us and, although Liam loved being in the "twain," the excitement could only last so long. Olivia, meanwhile, spent the whole meal trying to distribute our cutlery as widely as possible.

So it was nice to get to the museum and have such a great time. It's hard not to, actually, since they seem to have thought of and provided for everything a small child could possibly want to do.

Including building things. Get this: there's an assembly area where kids (and their parents) can build cars, boats, and the like out of what is essentially garbage. Liam selected the materials,

used the saw for a few minutes (although a saw was not required for his project),

then took off to play with trains

while Mark made a boat.

Nice job, Mark! Usually it's me who ends up a bit obsessed with finishing a project Liam's lost all interest in.

They also have a pretend store with shelves full of wooden and plastic "food" and a cash register on which Liam managed to wrangle a turn as cashier. They have a little basketball court. A real fire truck. And they have an anthill. What museum is complete without a kid-sized anthill?

Yup, that's Liam in that ant suit.

So a good time was had by all. The only real flash of temper was when we left and Liam suddenly realized we were headed for the car (as if we could go a whole day in peace and tranquility).

A Geek in the Making

At Least We Got Out of the House

There are some days when we are "on" as parents. There are the happy days on which we pack a picnic lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, 100% juice juice boxes, and goldfish on the side (with cut-up grapes and cantaloupe and little crackers for the babies) and walk to the park, where the kiddos run and jump and play in the fresh air until they tire and begin clamoring for the food. And then there are days like today. Perfectly warm and sunny days, but days on which the kids are wild and crazy and we are lazy. I'm not proud of it, but on those days we sometimes end up here:

MacDonald's Play Place. <Sigh>

We can drive right up to the door, order a meal for all of us for under eight bucks, and pretty much ignore the kids until they start clamoring for the miniature ice creams. So today was one of those days.

Which reminds me of a funny story. Mark took Liam and Olivia to MacDonald's last week for lunch. He wasn't aware of the golden rule: before a child goes in the tunnels, that child must go to the potty. After all, Liam doesn't give us much notice at the best of times and sometimes it can be a long trip down from the top of that play place.

A little while later, Olivia was strapped into a high chair and covered with drool and lunch when Liam came running up. He announced an urgent need to go to the bathroom and Mark, knowing how close it must be, told Liam to, "Go!" Well, there is another golden rule of parenting: don't send your children anywhere that you cannot retrieve them. This is, apparently, a lesson that must be learned through experience. Mark told Liam to go into the women's washroom.

In Mark's defense, Liam goes to the washroom all by himself at home. And Mark was thinking that the women's washroom was a safer place than the men's (and I would agree). But he wasn't thinking that Liam might possibly run into trouble and would pretty much be out of luck. Which, of course, Liam did and Liam was.

It was the damn button on his shorts.  Liam can't undo buttons quickly. Long story short: Liam ended up in a puddle in the bathroom, removed his wet clothes, and wouldn't come out. Thank god for a kindly lady that found Mark and then helped Liam into new clothes (right now we're always packing a spare).

So today's play place experience was a bit less dramatic. But still, I'm not proud.

Pee Wee Soccer

We signed Liam up for soccer. It's not that any of us are really in to soccer, least of all Liam himself, but he liked the idea and, more importantly, it was the only sport available to the three-year-old crowd. But when I say that Liam liked the idea, I guess we assumed he knew more about the activity than he did (and how could he?), because it didn't quite turn out as we expected.

Although we were hoping for at least a little time on the field, the three-year-olds do all their learning in the gym, presumably so that they won't run away or wander off or anything. And since kids this little don't know anything about soccer, they first learned things like how to stand in the traditional soccer pose: with one foot poised on top of the ball. 

If I'm not being clear, the class had way too much of this:

and not nearly enough of this:

Liam didn't want to stretch, he didn't want to stand still, and he didn't want to wait around. So he rebelled. And poor Mark, who hadn't read the class description very clearly, took it for a little while and then packed up and came home (with Liam, of course). If I were there, this part of the story would be much more descriptive. Thankfully, I was at home and for some reason Mark doesn't want to talk about it ("He was sooooo bad").

Strangely enough, when I asked Liam if he had a good time, he answered with an enthusiastic, "Yes!" Plus he's really psyched about his soccer shirt. So he and Mark will go back on Saturday for another try (and hell no, I'm not going).

Just Some Pictures of Some Friends

Isn't it sad that our friends came to visit and that this is the best picture taken of me? That's me with Kelly and Jenn.

The big kids - Jake, Liam, and Lauren - making silly faces.

Action shot: Liam on the slide.

The new baby, Avery, and her mom, Jenn.

The big babies - Ryan and Olivia.

With a Quack, Quack Here