Foul Ball-It Doesn't Stink in the End

Today Mike and I sat on the sidelines of one of the saddest, most embarrassing softball games we had ever seen.  Michaela's team played this morning, and the first thing I want to say is that she is on a team full of girls who have been encouraging, kind, and friendly from the start of the season.  You see, she is an outsider.  All of the other girls know each other from school; not only do they go to school together but they have played ball together for several years.  She was on this same team last year, but from one spring to another I'm not sure that they remembered her.  A lot happens over the summer and during a school year.  As a mom (especially one who struggles to make friends with women who are already in well-established circles of friendships) it has been touching to see her teammates treat Michaela as one of the girls.  Michaela is not a strong player, but they (and the other parents) cheer her on, yelling,"You can do it!" from the side.  One of the girls was on second base today when Michaela went up to bat and as she waited for her final pitch this teammate hollered,"Go, Michaela!"  I almost cried.

These girls are decent softball players.  A lot of the time they get a hit, and often they make it to the next base.  They've scored plenty of runs.  They've both won and lost games this season.  The fact that they lost their first of two games today is not what was embarrassing.  What was so shameful was the way the other team's coaches were directing those girls.  They were unabashedly teaching them to take advantage not only of someone else's weakness (as in the case of overthrowing the ball-it's pretty standard to take one base when the team on the field misses a catch and has to run to get it and then throw it to the pitcher...this team sent their girls home time and again, even if the ball was on its way to the pitcher and even if the runner had already taken second and/or third), but they were also teaching them to take advantage of mistakes made in their favor (like when one of our girls made it to second, at the same time the second baseman-girl, whatever- caught the ball but stood just short of the base...the referee signaled our girl out, and when two of our coaches asked about it the ref maintained his call, amidst a collective,"What?!" and groan from our team's parents; it would have been clear to the other coaches had they been watching the game, and to the girl who caught the ball but was not on base, that a mistake had been made, yet no one said anything...our coaches did not get into an argument about the call, but let it go).  These things were so sad to see.  Mike said later,"They're not playing softball, they're just taking advantage of people."

The heartening thing about the situation lies in the response of Michaela's team.  They didn't complain.  I won't lie and say that no comments were made by the parents to one another (once our girls were on the field again, one dad yelled out,"Just stand close to second!"-I don't know if anyone else heard him but one other dad and me...and darnit, I laughed), or among the coaches and dads.  But it was lighthearted, a what-are-you-going-to-do-but-let-it-go kind of attitude.  The girl who was called out, even though the folks at the pool next to the field could see that she was safe, came off of the field easily, even with a smile.  Her mom came over just after and she turned to talk to her; I didn't hear their whole conversation, but understood her look to say,"Did you see what happened?!"  I heard her mom say that everyone saw it, but that these things happen, that she did a good job, and everything was okay.  When the coach questioned the call and the ref signaled "out" again, he lowered his head and spread his arms with his hands palms-down as if to say,"You got it; you make the call."  He told the girls after the game that yes, there had been some tough breaks, but they did well, and he encouraged them as they looked forward to their next game later in the afternoon.

You know what?  They won that second game.  I was at home with Eliana for her nap, and I wish I could have been there.  I bet they worked hard and played fair, and their reward was a win.  I don't really care about winning and losing so much; mainly I want Michaela to have fun with other little girls.  But I want her to learn about good sportsmanship, teamwork, and honesty.  I'm grateful that she is on a team that works to instill these things in the players.  As the end of the season nears, I'm making a call myself...whether they are dashing to first or running down the line headed home, I think these girls are SAFE!

A Little History

Every day Michaela says or does something that emphasizes (without meaning to at all) how special she is.  There is always a hug at just the right moment, or some other loving gesture (tonight as I was leaving her room after saying good night she called quietly after me,"Mom!"  I turned around and in the darkness I could see that she was holding up the "I love you" sign with her hand).  She loves on Eliana all day long.  She runs to say good bye to her daddy as he's walking down the sidewalk as if it's the most important thing she's going to do all day. She had her first softball game of the season tonight (and Christian had t-ball at the same time, so Mike and I had to divide and conquer, and I missed his game).  She's playing on a team where all the girls know each other from school, but she shows up and smiles and starts talking to the other girls like it's no big deal (she does better with them than I do with the moms!).  She hasn't played much softball, but she pulls her helmet on, picks up her bat, and heads to home plate to give it her best shot.  I'm so proud of her for doing these things, things that I have a hard time doing as a 34-year-old...making friends in an established circle, playing a (fairly) new sport (um, playing any sport at all).  And all of it with a smile, a sweet smile that can light up a whole room. I don't tell her how much she means to me often enough.  She's so independent, and does so much on her own now.  I rely on her a lot to help out with Eliana, and throughout the day we do our own thing.  She has been doing her schoolwork in Mike's office in the mornings, without the distraction of Eliana trying to climb in her lap using her pencil on her paper. I'm writing this so late because one of the last things I did tonight (before getting back on the computer) was look in her bookbag.  She has never had a real bookbag before, for school, since she's homeschooled.  You know, we didn't really need to pack the books up for the trek from the schoolroom to the dining room when we did work there.  Or to the living room when we did work there.  No, we just carried them in the handy-dandy arms that we have. Now that she's walking to Mike's office at the church with a load of books she needed a bag to put them in.  Mike ordered one for her, and it arrived today, and she squealed and said,"It's cute, it's plaid!"  I found it tonight in our schoolroom floor, filled with books.  It was heavy!  I went to move it so I could fold some laundry before I headed to bed, and I thought,"What is in here?" I had to show you... outer pocket- inside big pocket- I am not sure why, but this bag full of history books made my heart swell.  It made me feel so full of love for Michaela...maybe someone has some insight as to why this was so touching.  I want so much for her, even though I don't do the best job to provide the atmosphere that she needs to reach her greatest potential in many ways.  I'm grateful that these days she is able to go with her dad and have a quiet place to study. There are so many things that I could say...my heart feels so full.  But at the end of the day (quite literally) it comes down to this...I love her.  And tomorrow I'm going to tell her first thing.

My Poor Baby Girl (the Big One)

Michaela, sweet Michaela, finally succumbed to some kind of virus today...she dragged herself downstairs this morning, cheerful but slow which is not typical.  She complained about a headache and went upstairs to lie down.  She, Mike, and Christian had a very late night at a baseball game last night so I thought maybe she was just still really tired. She rested for quite a while, took a nap, and then later in the afternoon I went to check on her and she said she wanted more oatmeal.  I said,"Really?  That sounds good to you?"  She looked at me with very big eyes and said,"I think I'm going to throw up."  I hopped out of her way and she headed to her bathroom and sure enough, there came, in her own words,"a gush, like a water fountain" (you know, the pretty kind, like you'll find in the park). She has thrown up two more times since then, heaving really, and it is so sad to see your little girl like that.  Those involuntary tears falling from her eyes.  That just about does me in. But you have never seen such a cheerful little sick person in your life.  She vomits and then sits up and grins shyly like she feels so much better even though she's sorry about that mess there.  She's so precious and sweet.  I love that girl.  And I hope she feels better in the morning!

Lunchtime

I got out some blueberries mid-morning because I needed to do something with them before they became trash.  Michaela got a bee in her bonnet about making something as well, and decided on "Pasta and Trees" by Rachael Ray.  So we got the water on to boil, the broccoli cooked, and the blueberries set out for muffins (did I hear someone say,"Unpack..."?  Please!  I have blueberries to rescue!).  I was holding Eliana all the while, and she was taking in all of our activity.  Michaela began breaking the broccoli into smaller bites, and I measured some of the blueberries into a small bowl.  Suddenly Eliana started chanting,"Bite, bite!"  I looked at her and looked at her choices... I couldn't imagine she wanted either thing, really.  This is the girl who refuses to touch a strawberry, a sweet potato, a pea, an apple...surely she did not want broccoli.  And she consistently rejects blueberries as well. She continued her chant, however, and so I held up a piece of broccoli.  She took a little bite out of the middle of the floret, and I just knew it would be returned for a full refund immediately.  She chewed it a bit, and then opened her mouth for the rest of the piece I had in my fingers! I looked at her closely to see if she really was Eliana, or some secret agent baby infiltrating my home to spy on all of my housekeeping/home managing (in)abilities. I found no wire taps, or double secret video recorders on her person, and concluded that this girl was indeed my own child, however mysterious she was behaving.  She called out,"Bite!  Mo-ey (more)."  So I gave her another little floret... She ate it so fast, I couldn't get a shot of it in her hand.  But I promise it was there!  Look, you can see a tiny bit of it sticking out of the corner of her mouth.  She ate several more, and I was shocked.  Speechless.  Amazed. Meanwhile, Michaela was busy with her recipe.  She got the butter and the olive oil ready, and waited patiently for the pasta to cook so that we could mix all the ingredients together. The finished product was good, a delicious lunch that we prepared together.  What fun. My muffins had to wait; they made it in after I ate my "Pasta and Trees" and they came out a bit overdone.  I am learning a new oven...this one seems to run hot.  Also, I have yet to find a blueberry muffin recipe that is great.  They don't taste quite right.  Maybe it needs the optional lemon zest, or maybe it's not chocolate therefore it doesn't suit my palate.  And chocolate blueberry muffins do not sound like the answer.

Losing and Winning

Losing-as in my marbles.

Winning-as in Michaela's first soccer game of the season.

They did such a good job.  Unfortunately, we arrived a little late.  That would be because of line number 1 up there.  Christian and Michaela both had soccer this morning at 9 am.  He, practice; she, a game.  Well, I went to bed last night (after an event over at the church at which they stayed late and therefore got to bed around 9:45) thinking,"So nice that we don't have to get up early tomorrow, no alarm to set for 7:30.  Aahhh!" 

Everyone was up by 8:15 or so, had breakfast, and began playing and just hanging out.  I went to do something (back to line number 1, I have no idea what it was) and glanced at the clock: 9:09.  "OOHHH NOOO!  YOU GUYS HAVE SOCCER!  HURRY, HURRY, GET YOUR STUFF ON, WE HAVE TO GO, NOW!"  Well, since now everyone thought the house was on fire, and Christian was asking why I scared him and Michaela was throwing her Pink Panthers uniform on the floor and telling me,"No, Maroon Strikers!", and Eliana was chanting,"Shoezon, shoezon?" our morning was off to an excellent start.  All I needed was the William Tell overture playing in the background. 

I raced around getting clothes, and shin guards, and cleats, and they got water bottles, and who has the baby?  We managed to get everyone in the car and arrive at the soccer fields at 9:21.  And I didn't speed, either.  I am a law-abiding citizen. 

Michaela was able to play the second half of the game, and Christian got in plenty of practice.  Later, I apologized to them for forgetting their soccer this morning, and promised to give them all the dessert they wanted for the rest of the day.  I didn't really do that.  I did tell them I was sorry, but they just had their normal amount of junk today.  What kind of mother do you think I am?

It was great fun to watch the girls' team.  They played so well together.  They were passing the ball, booting it down the field, blocking the opponents' shots, and going for goals from further away with more confidence than last season.  This season is going to be a kick to watch, because I think they'll just get better.  Why yes, I did mean to be such a dork, and write "kick" in that sentence.

I peeked at Christian every few minutes and noticed him doing a good job across the street.  Michaela's game just happened to be at the same time and on the same school's fields as his practice.  How convenient for me!  Especially on a day like today.  He has good control over the ball, and I could see him during the drills, dribbling away, practicing shooting into the goal.  And then, his favorite thing, they had a scrimmage game-shirts and skins.  He always manages to be on the skins' team.  Even as little boys, they love to lose the shirt and strut.  What will he be like when he's 14?  17?  Oh my.  Let's not skip ahead that far, eh?  Are you trying to give me a heart attack?

Tomorrow is the start of a new week.  I am looking forward to a fresh start.  Marbles, you may roll hither and yon, under all manner of furniture, and disappear into an abyss of giant dustballs and long-forgotten toys and socks, but know that one day I will find you because we are moving and the furniture will be relocated and everything will be cleaned up and returned to its rightful place.