Well, I think we can cross that one off the list.

Today was the last day of soccer camp for Max and they ended the morning with a little scrimmage. As I walked up to catch the last bit of the game, it seemed like everyone was having lots of fun. Then I heard the yelling. Of course it was Max. He kept shouting, "STOP IT, GUYS! I'M SO TIRED OF THIS!!!" Then he stomped off the field and landed in a squat with his back to the rest of the kids.

One of the coaches came over to talk to him and after a few minutes Max joined the game again. But he quickly started yelling at the other kids again... and storming off... even messing with the goal at one point (as in - I'm going to pick this up and twirl it above my head - because I can - because I'm done with this mess).

From what I could gather, there wasn't much sharing of the ball. Some of the kids on his team were much more advanced than he is so he was never getting a chance to kick. It's sort of how soccer goes before kids learn strategy and how to pass. It did seem like a pretty frustrating situation... constantly getting shoved out of the way by the cluster of kids fighting for the ball up and down the field.

Still, it was tough to watch. All of the other kids seemed to be handling the scene just fine... and definitely without tantrums.

The unraveling continued for another five years five minutes until the game was ended. Time was up. Soccer camp was officially over.

I HAD TO CLAIM HIM.

Fortunately, I always carry my Judgmental-Parent-Stare Shield with me.

After thanking the coaches profusely we got in the car and drove home. We talked a bit about what happened and then I asked him if he still wanted to play soccer this Fall...

"No, Mom. I really don't want to do that now."

Little Miss Awesome Goes For It

She's been talking about jumping off the diving board all summer... and yesterday was the day. Her first jump. The crowd of people hanging around the diving board area suddenly became still and extremely quiet once they saw her climb the steps to get on the board.

She took her time. Everyone watched and waited. I had no doubt she was going to do it. Once she decides she's going to do something - there's no changing her mind - it's best to just step aside and get out of her way!

There she goes!!! Look at that smile! She popped quickly back to the surface to lots of cheering and swam beautifully to the side before climbing out - teeming with pride.
Nicely done, girl.

Keep bearing right and you'll get there - eventually. I think.

Max is about to lose an upper front tooth. It has been extremely loose for weeks and he likes to play with it and wiggle it back and forth. The sound of the flesh tearing off each time he moves it is so absolutely revolting to me. Max is quite delighted by this knowledge. In fact, I've come to realize that nothing grosses me out more than a dangling tooth. NOTHING.

Which is weird. Right? Anyone who has taken care of kids, or any creature for that matter, gets use to A LOT of distasteful situations. Like this one:

Max and Alex love sushi. They're fairly atypical kids that way. When you ask them where they'd like to go for dinner, most of the time they will say they want sushi. Which is what they said when we were in Crested Butte in June and were going out to eat with my friend, Angie. SUSHI! they yelled in unison. Great. It sounded good to the both of us too. So we went, we ordered, and we waited.

The thing about sushi restaurants is that they're not really very kid friendly. So there's not much for them to do while they wait. If there's a long wait and the kids start to get extremely hungry... bad things tend to happen. For starters, Max discovers there are at least 101 different things to do with chopsticks. 90% of these things are either excessively annoying or inappropriate... and OH MY GOD can you stop touching your sister!?! It's pissing her off and making her scream and people are staring and wondering why the fuck we've taken kids to a sushi restaurant that is so obviously really just for mature adults!!!! No, he can not stop touching her, torturing her is way too interesting...

Right. So the food finally comes. Hallelujah. It looks amazing and is delicious. Max and Alex are voraciously eating whatever is placed on their plate. * Watching your kids eat raw fish with such rapture is amazing. Until they ask you for more... and more... and it dawns on you that each bite they take is costing you 5$. Then you start offering more miso soup... rice perhaps?! * Nope. They only want more salmon.

The only thing left are the salmon rolls... so we give them some. Alex takes hers apart and takes small sensible bites. Max, of course, sticks the whole piece in his mouth. While I'm enthralled in fantastic conversation, completely enjoying the meal and the fact that there is no more screaming, Max starts to choke on the long piece of Nori encasing the roll. At which point, I look over just in time to watch him vomit the roll, and more, onto his plate.

I am entirely unphased by the vomit... although Angie, after having witnessed the same scene, looks like she might hurl herself. And she's mortified. As any normal person would be. Except I've been through this several times before and I'm actually elated that a) not much came up, and b) there was no projectile aspect - it's all contained on the plate. It could have been so much worse, but this... this is no problem. Let's just get him a new plate because, of course, he's still hungry for more! The waiter comes over and is paralyzed for a few seconds after I hand him the plate and ask for a new one. Dude, this is nothing more than a minor blip. Angie remains speechless...

To this day, she's still too affected by the whole experience to really even discuss it... and I'm like... what?... it was just a little vomit. It's not like he was wiggling his dangly tooth in front of you?!?

One of my newest mantras...

I read this last night and just needed to write it down. I knew all of this, but not really.

"There are times as a parent when you realize that your job is not to be the parent you always imagined you'd be, the parent you always wished you had. Your job is to be the parent your child needs, given the particulars of his or her own life and nature. It's hard to separate your remembered childhood and its emotional legacy from the childhoods that are being lived out in your house, by your children. If you're lucky, your kids will help you make that distinction. - You want to protect them, but sometimes what you have to protect them from is the ongoing avalanche of your own childhood..."
Ayelet Waldman
Bad Mother

A sad commentary on a mother's paranoia...

I know running after the ice cream truck in the summertime is supposed to be a wonderful childhood memory... but I just can't seem to embrace the tradition for my kids. I actually find the whole scene disturbing. The eery, tinkly melody. The extraordinarily slow driving by the creepy driver. The decrepit nature of the truck...

As one rolled down the street the other evening, I imagined what Max and Alex will say when they reminisce about their ice cream truck experience in the future. Unfortunately, I think it'll go something like this:

M: Do you remember when the ice cream truck would come down the street in the summer?

A: Ya. We were so excited to hear that music! We'd be staring out the windows with our noses pressed against the glass... trying not to lose sight of it.

M: And we'd beg for money to go out and get something, but Mom would never give us any.

A: Or even let us out of the house.

M: She was completely convinced the driver was some child predator stalking the neighborhood.

A: She's such a freak.

M: I know.

A: Then we had to just watch it drive away.

M: That sucked.

A: Ya. It did.

I may have some anger issues... it's partly why I run...

First of all, I am a bike rider. I believe riding bikes is a very good thing. Most bike riders are super courteous. This is for the ones that don't get it.

For the morons... on bikes.

There are some things I'd very much like you to consider:

1. I am running on the extreme right edge of the massively wide path so that people can easily pass me on the left. Therefore, it is absolutely unnecessary for you to ring your obnoxious bell to alert me of your presence. I realize I'm running on a bike path! I assume that riders will be passing me! While I'm sure it's fantastically hilarious to watch me startle, trip, and narrowly avoid face planting; I'd really prefer a run without that kind adrenaline rush.

2. When you do happen to ride by me it is also unnecessary - after already frantically ringing said obnoxious bell - to scream in my ear that YOU'RE PASSING ON THE LEFT when YOU ARE - ACTUALLY - PASSING ME ON THE LEFT?!?

3. If you are passing someone on a WIDE path - especially with no one coming in the opposite direction - and that person has to jump off of the edge of the path to avoid getting hit by you... that is... um... TOO FUCKING CLOSE!

4. Passing someone so closely can have some serious consequences. For instance, it's quite likely that an arm could suddenly - and not so accidentally - swing wide and shove your dumb ass off your bike.

5. I'm pretty sure that would be your fault.

The end.

"Max, guess what..."

"IT'S CHERRY SEASON!"
Alex has just rediscovered how delicious cherries are... but I suspect the majority of her excitement is due to the pit spitting aspect.