Making New Memories

The San Antonio Scorpions FC, our hometown NASL soccer team, played a match against a major league soccer team, FC Dallas.  (I am pretty sure that the 'FC' stands for 'Football Club', because football in every other country but ours is actually soccer. We had to be weird, us Americans. But don't quote me on that, because I'm winging it here.) 

The game was a 'friendly', meaning that it wouldn't count for anything. The Dallas club needed some practice, and the freshly selected newest members of the Scorpions needed practice as well.  It was also discussed that the Scorpions would like to be one of the MLS expansion teams at some point, and this would be good experience. 

Larry, Zane, and I had already taken a trip to Dallas to see the Dallas team play Los Angeles a while back. Well, to see David Beckham, really.  Zane wanted to show the soccer legend his new cleats, and we were all disappointed when Mr. Beckham bowed out.  Something to do with those pesky Olympic games and the jet lag of overseas travel. Or something.  

But this would be different. This would be on our home turf, so to speak.  It would be fun! And I decided to splurge a little and get as close to the green as possible. My goal(get it?--a soccer metaphor!) in splurging was simple. Life is about shared experiences.  The best memories that I have happened with other people, most of them my family. I want my son to have those kind of experiences, too.  My parents and my brother were also in attendance, so this was a family event of epic proportions.  

It is beyond exciting to be that close to the field of play in any sport, close enough to catch a ball if it flies into the crowd.  Or to yell at the ref when he misses a perfectly obvious yellow card.  Not that I would ever do that--that would be my brother. We were seated next to the section where the Scorpions Fan club was gathered, and the game was accompanied by the drums and chants of almost eight thousand people.  The energy of the crowd was inspiring.

When he is an adult, my son may recall an unseasonably warm March 1st when he went to a Scorpions soccer game, ate blue cotton candy and drank a blue snowcone, and pooped blue for a week(if you're a mom, you know how I know that).  Maybe he'll also happily recall that the Scorpions tied a major league soccer team in the final seconds of the game, and that he was with the people who love him the most. If so, then it was worth it.

Completely Random

Forget back to school--it's football season here in Texas.  All the football teams are out sweating and practicing.  They've made water breaks mandatory here, not suggestions like they were before, thank goodness.  My husband often talks about only being allowed a swallow or two during football practice when he was growing up.  It was supposed to toughen a kid up, but in this heat it can be fatal. Even the marching bands, who are standing on the sweltering asphalt of school parking lots, are making sure their members are well hydrated.  Texas has also passed a law limiting full contact during practices and there have been stricter guidelines handed down to deal with concussions.  For that I am very glad.  Even with all that padding and helmets, the brain takes a pounding in football.  All that sloshing around in a skull is not good for a growing mind! 

That's Zane with his dad and his grandpa at the Scorpions soccer game the other night.  My brother took the picture. They had a 'Boys night', except that my brother's kids are teenagers and are contractually obligated to never appear in public with a parent.  My brother was the same way--when he was a teenager, he would always walk about ten feet behind us so nobody knew he was with his family!  Tristan and Tyler missed all the fun.  Scorpions games are fun--and all the profits go to fund Morgan's Wonderland, an amusement park built just for families with special needs children.  How's that for helping out the community while having a good time?

We were at a Burger King, and my son ran right to the playscape.  I would run there, too, if I were a kid.  The BK playscapes are the coolest I've seen so far.  Before Zane is allowed to play, however, I take him over to read the rules they have posted.  Just so there's no question about whether it's okay to use the top of the playscape as a diving board.  The very first rule was "Must be supervised by a happy adult."  I got a little defensive, right there. What the heck is that supposed to mean?  I'm happy.  Who says that I'm not happy? Just because I'm not acting like I've had a lobotomy doesn't mean I'm not happy!  I went to the table in a huff about it, and Larry asked if I wanted a Snickers.  Does anyone else have these Joe Pesci moments?  I thought they would go away, but they seem to be hormonal.  I had a crying jag the other day while driving home, and I have no idea why.

I am nervous about this Thursday. The first person in human resources that I talked to said we would be paid August 15th, which would be wonderful.  Then other new people in my department were told that it wouldn't be until September 15th.  None of us can get a straight answer out of anyone--only that they'll TRY.  There is no TRY in payroll, people!  If we have to wait until September for that paycheck, it will absolutely suck.  My check is the one that goes for all the bills, like the mortgage. My husband's check pays for the rest, like eating, and the odd movie night.  I can afford to miss a few meals, I am not sure that my son could get by without eating.    I'm trying to take it on faith that everything will be all right, but that is something I always struggle to do!

We seem to have acquired a pit bull. He's very definitely a boy, a brindle color.  Either somebody dumped the poor thing(pets are not trash!) or he is lost.  He has decided that the bushes in the front yard are a perfect hideout.  He's skittish around people, but he seems friendly and he doesn't have any scarring or missing parts that would indicate he's a fighter.  Since it's been so hot, we've put water out for him, and I gave him some of Maisy's food.  It's puppy food, but it's all we got.  Hopefully Larry can get him into the car while I am at work, so he can take him to the local animal shelter.  I like all dogs, but we already have Maisy.  We can't afford two large dogs.  But I think it is kind of hilarious that I have a dog living in the bushes in the front yard, and a feral cat living in the bushes in the back yard.  Maybe I should just starting renting out the bushes?


Go visit Stacy's place--she is moving but she'll appreciate the company!



And maybe you might want to visit Shawn and Impulsive for Talk To Us Tuesday, although they don't seem to be doing very much talking these days. Meh, it is still summer for some people, and that means taking time off from blogging.  Don't hold it against them too much, because we've all had the doldrums before.  Just think happy thoughts and have a margarita, if it suits you to do so! 

More Random Than Necessary

I have recently delved into the marvelous world of vacuum repair.  The intake hose on our vacuum keeps popping off, which considerably reduces the suction.  It's a Dyson, so it is not "supposed" to lose suction, but it is also several years old and well used.  (I was going to make a snarky comment about suction, but this is a family show, so fill in your own thought there.)  I can completely understand why a vacuum might want a rest, but Maisy sheds her weight in dog hair everyday. I can't afford to fall behind.  I am trying to decide what to do with the hose. My first instinct is to just superglue the hose in place, but that likely voids some obscure warranty clause written by trained monks in some random monastery. Does a warranty still matter after six or more years?  I will have to think about it.

There was a column on Slate.com yesterday that really ticked me off.  This woman was describing how much trouble her dog was now that she had kids.  Her inconvenience was an excuse to treat the dog horribly and blame all her problems on the poor dog.  She even discussed wanting to drown her pet!  I wanted to punch her right in the face. We had 4 cats and Sandy when Zane was born, and we managed to take care of all of them lovingly. The animals were a little freaked out by the new arrival, but then again, so were we.  We all dealt with it.  It's not the dog or cat's fault that a parent cannot handle the changes in routine, but if you can't deal with it, find the pet a nice home where they will be loved rather than scapegoats.  Except that if you can't manage to take care of a dog or a cat, you probably shouldn't have kids, either. 

Last week Zane got to meet several of the San Antonio Scorpions.  They had an autograph session followed by an small camp for the kids.  My son made himself right at home.

He marched right up there to get his ball signed, and he asked them all about Skylanders, FIFA2013, and the Gold Cup(a competition which the USA Men's Soccer Team just won, thank you very much) just like they were his besties.  For the most part, all of the players were friendly to him, although there were a couple who did not seem to know exactly what to do.  Which is normal--Zane is almost a force of a nature.  The coolest thing for me as a mom was watching how these professional soccer players interacted with the kids when the mini camp started.  The littlest soccer players had a great time, even though they were in 99 degree heat at 6pm. 

I have purchased just about all of Zane' s school supplies. There were a set of Markers that I could not find, not even on Amazon. I also did not buy the antibacterial hand sanitizer, because I do not want Zane to use that stuff.  (He can use plain soap and water, which does the same thing without resulting in a resistance to antibiotics.)  I am still irritated about the uniforms that Zane will have to wear. Who in their right mind puts a freakin' white shirt on a five year old?  I don't even own a white shirt, because my chest is a stain magnet! I guess that I will have to stock up and buy 14 white shirts to start off the year, in preparation for the stains to come.

Amazon is putting in a warehouse here, in Schertz, Texas.  Tons of new jobs is a great introduction to the area, and I think that everyone in the area is looking forward to the grand opening.  Since I order a ton of stuff from Amazon, I wonder if they would just let me drive up?  Maybe they could put in a drive-thru at the warehouse, where you can order your stuff online and they bring it out to your car.  With a side of fries.  

 Stacy is in the process of moving to the West Coast but I'm keeping the random in her honor:



You can also go and check out the fine ladies Shawn and Impulsive at Talk To Us Tuesday!



Have a great day, and if you're in the heat zone this week, stay hydrated!

Independently Random

My son is now of the age where I think that he needs to start doing chores. So when I have laundry to take care of, I have been making him fold the towels.  He's also been helping his grandmother with her laundry, and folds towels for her.  Unfortunately, she folds towels differently than I do, and this has lead to some confusion in our house.  I know what you're thinking--there's more than one way to fold a towel?   Apparently so!  I've always folded towels in half longways first, then in half again, so that when I pull the towel out of the closet it is ready to hang on the rod.  Grandmother folds them exactly the opposite.  I've tried to work on this with Zane, as nicely as I can; I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings over a stupid towel.  But it means that Zane's folding efforts tend to look like this:

No nice, flat, pile of towels for me(yes, that is my foot the pile is covering)!  I've just been refolding all of the towels before I put them away.  At some point, when he is older, I'll talk to him about how our routines are different from others, and we'll adjust, but there's not much of a point having a battle over it now, right? 

Have you ever felt like you had thousands of things to do, but not the slightest interest in doing any of them?   I think that is the essence of summer.  Summer-itis, as it were.  I've got all these grand plans, piles of work to go through, and there it still sits.  I just don't feel like doing any of it.  Instead, I've been playing Plants vs. Zombies with Zane, reading, and some days not even getting out of my jammies.  Lazy!  Oh well.  It's summer.  I'm too lazy to feel guilty about being lazy. 

My friend Andrea, over at Maybe It's Just Me, blogged about her candy stash yesterday.  I thought about it later, and opened a few cabinets, and well...I guess I have a candy stash too!  I just randomly buy candy if I see something interesting out there. I have even tried that Skinny Cow chocolate, which wasn't that bad.  I also discovered that Zane has a stash of candy from the many parties his class had during the school year, just in case he needs a quick chocolate break.  It's nice to see that I am raising him right. 

When you have a five year old and a puppy, you may as well have a revolving door into the back yard.  Summer time means that  there are lots and lots of flies flitting about, doing fly-type things and annoying the populace. Sometimes these flies make their way into our kitchen.  Since the back yard door is in the kitchen, I'm not comfortable spraying pesticides in there, where food is served.  So we've resorted to the old-fashioned method of removing flies and other pests--the fly-swatter.  That's a non-techie way of dealing with a problem, I know, but my motto is "whatever works." 

Since this is a military town, we like to do up Independence Day right.  We've had enough rain that we can have fireworks without setting fire to the countryside.  I full expect that there will be little sleep on the fourth, especially if our dog does not like fireworks.  When Sandy the Wonder Dog was alive, we had to put her in the bathroom with the hot tub running so the sound would drown out the pops and booms.  She just could not handle all of the noise.  Maisy has done okay with thunderstorms, but she has not had to deal with fireworks yet.  I won't feel comfortable leaving her at home alone if she is going to go nuts here!  Cats are so much easier to deal with--Zena and Pounce don't even wake up! 


Go visit Stacy!  She is awesome!  Also, stay safe this week, especially around fireworks--they're pretty from a distance, but they can be dangerous. 

Herding Ca--Kids

As part of our soccer family experience, my husband managed to secure a sponsorship with the San Antonio Scorpions, a professional soccer team.  This past weekend was a home game, and many of the kids in the soccer league were invited to come perform various activities during the game.  Some kids got to unfurl a huge American flag and wrangle with it in the middle of the field while the pros were coming out.  Other kids got to be the ones who chase after the ball if it goes out of bounds.  My husband was very adamant that our son get to participate in the festivities, but there aren't a lot of options for four year olds.  Except...escorting the visiting team out to the field. Brilliant! So Larry signed 10 three and four year old kids up to be escorts.  

We got Zane and headed to the field for the game; we all had to be there an hour early.  We gathered all the little ones and herded them down onto the field to wait.  For. An. Hour.   Little kids don't wait very well.  Some of them are able to sit still for short periods of time, but that is a rarity in nature. 

So they sat...then they got up...then there was breakdancing...then there was more sitting...then there was a little handflapping...more sitting...one skinned knee...some bathroom visits..more sitting...

In the middle of all this mayhem, Larry kept wandering off, because he was as 'in charge' of this event as anybody else.  Luckily, one of the other parents snuck down there with us, and she was ridiculously prepared with stuff like wipes.  Otherwise, I would have lost my mind trying to keep track of all of these kids.  There were only ten, but it seemed like 30.  Heck, my own child was the perfect example of how not to behave in a large crowd.  (Take one of those Super Balls into a room and throw it against the wall; the resulting ricochet resembled Zane.)  He was feeding off of the energy of the crowd, and I was regretting that nap I made him take. 

Finally, it was time.  The visiting team were Canadians, and I made sure that they all knew that the kids were three and four year olds.  All of the little ones were looking up and up and up at these BIG versions of themselves.  Well, almost all.  Zane wasn't the least impressed; he was excited and happy and he did not care who knew it.   The players each took the hand of a child and led them out onto the field.  All the other kids were sedately walking; Zane was bouncing, skipping, and practically dragging his professional soccer player along.  That poor, poor man!   The players stopped in the middle of the field for the introductions.  Zane is still bouncing and from the sidelines I can see that he is chattering away.  He is not facing the audience, he is facing HIS audience of four professional soccer players, who are all smiling at my son while he is hopping and jumping about. 

Did I mention that I regretted the nap? 

When the National Anthem started, in my mind I'm thinking, "CRAP!"  Because while we've practiced what you are supposed to do for the Pledge, we did not practice what you are supposed to do for the National Anthem.  The Canadian player, with the last name of Pinto, did his best to get Zane to stand quietly, to no avail.  The boy had to dance to his own music.  It didn't help that what Larry called one of the worse renditions of the National Anthem ever(I've heard much worse), seemed to go on and on because the singer thought it would be great to sing as slowly and as flatly as humanly possible.   It got no better when they played the Canadian anthem; Zane chose that moment to throw himself on the ground and pretend to be dead.  By this point, the boy next to him was joining in and flopping on the ground too. 

The players seemed to be laughing about it, which was good.  I was horrified.  My child was being disrespectful! I would have to move to a new town and change my name.  My parents would disown me and cut off Zane's college fund.  We would not be able to show our faces here for at least a decade.  Every worst case scenario was speeding through my head.  CPS would be waiting at the gate to take Zane, since we had neglected him so...the monologue went on. 

And then that wonderful, blessed switch went off in my head.  The switch that seems to shut off all the internal naggery that my brain subjects me to.  I took a deep breath, and let it out, there on the sidelines of a professional soccer game. I relaxed.  Zane is a kid, he's happy, he's excited, and most people like that.   There wasn't a thing that I could have done that would have changed Zane's behavior; he was in the zone.  His happy place.  If he's happy, then I'm happy.  

Some people probably got upset about his behavior during the Anthem, but it was looked upon more kindly because he is four.  Little kids are not expected to follow the rules as well as the older kids.  Little kids still get to be kids.  The important thing is that Zane had a great time, everybody had a great time, and I did not have a major coronary.  I might even do this again, if beer is served. 




*And if you want to see my child, you will have to go to the San Antonio Scorpions website and download the game video. My son comes along around the 20 minute mark.*