Traditions

Like a bazillion other people in small towns across America (and probably some not-so-small towns as well) we attended our local 4th of July parade yesterday morning. While I doubt our parade is any better or any worse than anyone else's, it is near and dear to my heart, simply for the longevity of how many times I've attended with my family.

I have no idea what year they started doing our 4th of July parade, but I marched in it myself when I was in high school with our local marching band .... about twenty-five years ago. Even prior to THAT, my parents hooked a trailer up to my dad's pickup truck on 1976 (Centennial Year!) and we RODE in the parade .... wish I could find some pictures of that! The parade route is a couple of miles, from downtown to a local park, where a carnival/fair/arts and crafts show/greasy food/music performances/fireworks display all take place throughout the day and into the night. I even played in the community band for a few years in my (MUCH) younger days, when I was still athletic enough to actually hold an instrument without dropping it. Yesterday, I watched the parade and thought I would probably die if I tried to walk that distance in the heat at this stage of my life. So I sat in a chair and enthusiastically waved my American flag --- pretty much the limit of my physical endurance. (Um, didn't I just join a gym recently?? And is it obvious that I haven't gone since my kids got out of school!?!?)

Used to, Blaine and I would purposely plan our vacations home to coincide with the fourth so we could go to the celebration in the park. It was a great opportunity for us to see old friends while we were in town, and it truly had the feel of a small-town festival. I'm just enough of a Norman-Rockwell-geek to love it.

Then someone, somewhere, got the idea that it would be swell to really beef up the festival. Bring in more rides for the kids, and instead of the community band, hire actual professionals to perform. And instead of our local firefighters shooting off fireworks once it got dark, they hired a pyrotechnic company for a bigger, more exciting show. They renamed it The Freedom Festival, and added things like car shows, and 5k races, and a donkey softball game. And you know, it was all good and well, but it lost the small-town reunion feeling that we loved so much. It's billed as one of the largest fireworks shows in the state, and there are literally thousands, tens of thousands of people that attend.

Quite frankly, while I think it's great for our town, it makes me sad. So now, we just go to the parade, and spend the day with family and friends.

I guess it's official: I've turned into one of those people who talk about "the good ole' days."

Here's a little trip down memory lane:

1986. I had been dating this guy, "Blaine", for almost a year. He was ok; things were going pretty well; even if he did have plans to join the military and if he even so much as thought for an instant that I would leave my family and my home town to join him, well, he had another thing coming. In the meantime, there are a few things about this picture that confuse me. First of all, I'm holding a beer bottle. I don't even LIKE beer, I never have. I'd as soon drink lighter fluid ... yet there I am, offending bottle in hand. And why is my belt on the outside of my sweater? And dear heavens, is that a she-mullet I'm sporting????



1993. Enjoying the parade with my family on what is the equivalent of our "Main Street", downtown. Wow, my sister and I are still hanging on to that 80's big hair, aren't we? Blaine, I'm pretty sure, was taking the picture.



1996. Same family, plus one nephew at this point. I think we're in the same truck, in the same spot downtown. I told you, we're creatures of habit.



1996. I really love this picture, not because it's so fabulous, but because that is the church we were married at in the background. I'm telling you, my small-town-ness is almost scary at some points. I also love this picture because (here's where the small-town-ness isn't scary, but wonderful, and proof of God's hand in our lives) when we submitted our "profile" to the adoption agency, we included this very picture. Brayden's birthmom, who is from the same small town, told me one of the reasons she picked us was because she knows exactly where this church is ... in fact, attended the same school I did which is just across the street. All I have to do is look at my daughter to know my small-town life was perfect.



1997. So, the next year, we introduced our daughter to the beauty that was the 4th of July festival. Truly, eating KFC over your baby daughter's head is a sign of true class, don't you think? Brayden doesn't look too impressed.



1997. She doesn't look any more impressed to be snuggling with Grandma Betty for the fireworks that night.




2000. Wow, she might be even less impressed than ever. This was the festival at the park, waiting for the concert to start. This was also the year we fought crowds the entire day, waited in lines to get our kids on rides, battled a ridiculous amount of traffic trying to leave the park that night after the fireworks, and never went back.




2002. But, we continued to do the parade every year, and the kids loved it.




We haven't actually been to the parade in a few years and I've missed it. Blaine and Kendrie got sick and we didn't travel as much, and one year we missed it because we timed our vacation wrong .... last year we were watching another small-town parade, in Skagway, Alaska ... you get the picture. But this year, our first year home, we were BACK! And I hope this will be the first of many more to come, and that my children will grow up with the same fond memories of this parade as I have.



Or not. They don't look too impressed here, do they? I'm telling you, those global warming people might just be on to something. I thought I was going to melt yesterday. But check out the captions on the photo, and you'll see just how small-town some of us are.




And just to give you an idea of how much I love this parade, I give you the following evidence:

We have the fire department,


local sheriff,


monster trucks,


and horses. (Hey, this IS Oklahoma, after all.)



Of course, we have the typical:

Old-timey cars,


and old-timey fire trucks.



Oh, sure, we have all the usual --- floats, clowns, marching bands, etc. I think my kids favorite part was seeing so many classmates in the parade, marching with boy scout troops, church groups, local gymnastic and dance teams, little league teams, etc. Personally these are some of my favorite:

People driving plows,


and even riding lawn-mowers.



THIS guy, is our neighbor ... wonder if he could bring that get up to the next block party for a sumo wrestling match or something???



A guy who ran out of gas half-way through the parade,



And in case THAT doesn't convince you how uptown we are ... check this out:



On second thought, maybe I DON'T want my kids to have fond memories of every little part.

I’ll text you my answers. Ha! Kidding! No I won’t.

Wow. Wow! Seriously? A hundred-something responses??? *THIS* is what brought all you lurkers out into the daylight? A post about cell phones? I’ve written from the very very bottom of my very very self-absorbed heart in the past about my woes as a parent, my hatred for Wal-Mart, and how stupid, shallow, selfish people make me want to rip their faces off ….. and *THIS* is what got you talking? Cell phone usage and text messaging? Hmmm, maybe my next post should be about microwaves. Or mp3 players. Or hand mixers.

Kidding, of course. I’m thrilled so many of you wrote in with your own experiences! I’m grateful for the ideas and information, and proud that we did it without a single snarky comment, despite differences of opinions. We were respectful, and polite ….. to quote London Tipton … “Yeah, us!”

In all honesty, I think there were a lot of helpful personal experiences shared, and I think the bottom line is what works best for one family might not be the same thing that works best for another. Most of all, I feel much better about my opinion that Brayden, personally, is currently too young for a cell phone. The fact that the vast majority of you (not all, but most) had your kids wait until much later most certainly makes me feel validated.

A few things I’d like to mention, specifically:

I think there are absolutely, positively, without-a-doubt, certain situations where giving (or lending) a cell phone to a child (as young as eleven, and even younger than eleven) is perfectly justified. It’s just that for *US*, most of those situations don’t apply. I drive or walk my kids to and from school, a distance of about fifty yards. I am a stay-at-home-mom and am never unavailable during the day, nor do my kids go to an after-school program, or stay home alone. Ever. They don’t yet do much, if anything, in the way of after or before-school activities. Evening sports practices are accompanied by a parent. They’re not allowed to play anywhere but on our street, they don’t go to the mall or movies or anywhere without an adult, they don’t babysit, they don’t travel with church or school groups that I’m not a chaperone, and they’re not allowed to visit friends’ houses unless the parents are home. So, FOR NOW, I don’t feel it’s a necessity, although I know as they get older our situation(s) will change. At that point, I have no doubt I will feel differently about the need for a cell phone and we’ll get one when we see fit.

It never occurred to me that text bullying might be an issue. I agree that the written word can often be misinterpreted, even when no harm was intended. In my personal e-mails, I have a tendency to really, really, really overuse the smiley emoticon, so people will know I am trying to be pleasant. (Shockingly, sometimes my naturally agreeable and lovely personality doesn’t come across, can you imagine???) It’s certainly something to keep an eye out for.

I understand that for many professionals, especially those who cannot be interrupted during the day (ie, schoolteachers) texting is a better option. When Blaine has a meeting at work, he simply leaves his cell phone on his desk so as to not be interrupted. Even for important, urgent, life-threatening calls like me wanting to know if he’s seen my library book anywhere in the house. Or does spaghetti sound ok for dinner. But for me, for now, texting is not necessary. And although it makes me an old fogey that I don’t want to mess with it …. Well, I don’t. If and when the time comes, I’ll learn it. But not until then.

It never occurred to me that a child could use their cell phone to text a parent, to initiate a phone call back to the child, to get said child out of a sticky situation and then “blame” it on the parents. That’s devious and sneaky …. And genius! I love it! Most certainly a trick we’ll be remembering when the time comes! As an aside, my mother ALWAYS told me growing up that if ever I found myself in a situation that made me uncomfortable, or a group of kids were doing something I knew would get me in trouble, I could always use her as an excuse (“My Mom won’t let me”) --- no matter what. I don’t think I ever had to, but it was good to know I had that to fall back on, you know, when my friends starting doing their underhanded and criminal behavior, like toilet papering the principal’s house. (I know, that’s about as delinquent as I ever got. Well, except for that one time at a wedding reception my senior year, before I fully understood the power of alcohol, but we won’t talk about that.)

I understand and agree that a cell phone can be a fabulous tool for teaching a child responsibility. The responsibility of keeping track of the phone, keeping track of minutes, keeping track of payments, etc. And I’m sure plenty of kids Brayden’s age are capable of doing it. Brayden …. However ….. hmmm. I’m not so confident. At this stage in the game, I just wish she was responsible enough to put all her dirty clothes in her laundry basket, or NOT forget her homework at least once or twice a month, or remember to feed the damn cat she insisted we take in. So I think for her, she has a ways to go in the Personal Responsibility Arena before we move on to cell phones.

Elle, I agree wholly with your comment about technology, which is supposed to make our lives easier, seeming to own us in certain ways. I know when I am forced to go a few days without the ability to check my e-mail, I can physically feel my blood pressure starting to rise. Why? Because I might miss a bazillion e-mails about free shipping from JC Penney, or an update on my Upromise account, or the summer reading list from Border Rewards? Thanks to iphones and fax machines and webmail, it’s practically impossible for people to escape the office … ever … anywhere. I’m not in any rush for my daughter to become addicted to a cell phone, either, and start down the slippery slope that seems to trip up the vast majority of us here in the 21st century. (Are we actually still in the 21st century? When does the 22nd century start? Does anyone know?)

I also loved the comments about how with a cell phone, a teen can tell her parents she is one place, but actually be someplace else. I plan to do the same thing my friend did with his daughter’s cell phone … activate the GPS feature inside the phone without telling her. Then, as long as I call her and she answers, I’ll know exactly where she is. (Heh-heh-heh, evil-parent laugh.)

Oooh, yes, I never thought about them texting late into the night after everyone else is in bed. Most assuredly will need to keep the cell phone in a separate location at night …. Like, um, in between my bosoms, so there’s no chance of her sneaking it back.

Anonymous, I also agree with you that kids are being raised to expect instant gratification and that cell phones, and more specifically, texting, only serve to enhance that. That’s already a problem we have here in our household, what with money burning a hole in everyone’s pockets, and now, now, now, and how much longer, and I want I want I want …. You get the picture. Last night Kendrie wanted to make strawberries dipped in chocolate. She was seriously annoyed to discover we had neither strawberries, nor chocolate, in our house. She was even more annoyed that I wouldn’t drop everything and drive to the store at 8 o’clock at night to buy them for her. I think even bigger than a cell phone, patience and appreciation and DELAYED gratification (picture me waving my arms about very grandiosely) are lessons we should be working on in our family.

I also agree that all the texting is leaving (some) children less capable of carrying on a verbal conversation. I still have to prompt my children to say please, and thank you, and remind them to look an adult in the eye when speaking. I would like them to TALK to their friends, on the phone, or even better, in person, and work on improving their communication skills. And by “improving”, I do NOT mean memorizing the entire text-message shorthand abbreviation language. I mean, wouldn’t it be great if all pre-teens had the ability to carry on a five-minute conversation with an adult? Of course, that would require them taking their cell phone off one ear and taking their ipod headphones out of the other ear and quite possibly, world peace and saving the rain forest and inventing an alternative fuel before gas hits five dollars a gallon would be more do-able.

Really? I can set the phone to review all sent and received text messages? I can DO that??? Sweet! Score!

Anonymous, you made the comment that sometimes you prefer texting because you’re busy and don’t want to have to go through any polite interchanges before making your request to whomever you are texting ….. I get it. I really do. I’ll confess, there have been times in my life when I’ve called someone, needing only to give a brief piece of information, and have been relieved when the voicemail or answering machine picks up. (Did I just admit that out loud???) So I understand what you’re saying. But still, it makes me sad to think saying ‘Hello’ and “How are you?’ to our friends and family is a chore to be avoided when we’re busy. I *get* it, but I don’t like it.

So, bottom line, Brayden won’t be getting a cell phone at eleven. Most likely not twelve, and maybe not even until thirteen or fourteen or later. We’ll wait and see how the wind blows then. People gave some very, very valid reasons for kids to have them, and some helpful pointers for making the process manageable. But mostly, I appreciate everyone sharing their experiences and letting me know I’m not alone in my feelings and opinions.

In the meantime, it sounds like we should form some kind of Meanest Mothers in the World Club or something. I think we have enough women here to form the board of directors, fill all the officer positions, and get a decent sized membership going. We could serve Diet Dr. Pepper from Sonic at the meetings, and bring all kinds of snacks and goodies that we refuse to share with our kids. Then, each gathering could be designated to sharing tips and strategies for making our kids as miserable as possible by denying them all the things in life they truly NEED, like designer clothes and electronics and pink ponies.

I promise not to text you the minutes of our meetings.

CUL8TR! ROFLMAO! SDOISJNFODAVFBIDHNFOE!!!

Updated to add:

Something else I forgot to mention (yet another thing that I hate ... my gosh ... I am quite possibly the world's grumpiest person) is how much the acronyms and short-cut spellings that are used in IM'ing (yep, something else I refuse to do) and texting are ruining the plight of the English language. I've heard of teachers having to mark down papers because kids are using abbreviations instead of real words ... "that's just how they spell these days", which bothers me. So let's make that reason #4 Brayden doesn't need a cell phone ... the girl's spelling is atrocious enough as it is, why add to the confusion by letting her LOL and TTYL???

Someone asked: Oh as a footnote, I just sent my second text message Sunday (took FOREVER), and hubby still refuses to get a phone. Does Blaine have one? Yes, Blaine and I both have cell phones, and neither of us text. Blaine actually has a Blackberry, as is required by his work. Due to security clearances for military e-mails, his phone is given to him by the government because it's the only phone from which he can check his e-mails. It also has internet access which he uses very infrequently. I'll admit it's convenient at home because we only have one computer so he never needs on it (unlike my kids, who currently have obsessions with the Webkinz site and some weird warlord game that Kellen is addicted to**) My phone is a no-frills phone. It doesn't even have (gasp!) a camera! I use it to make calls only ... no texting, no internet. And I've never been anywhere that wasn't enough for me.

**PS I'm kidding about the addiction. Well, maybe not, he does love it an awful lot. But the kids have a 30-minute a day limit on computer time, so I'm not too worried it's going to get out of hand ... yet. :)




OK, so seriously, all kidding aside, I would love to know what you guys think ...

Brayden went to a birthday slumber party a few weeks ago. A girl from her class at school was turning eleven. There were approximately ten other girls from school there, all the same age (fifth going into sixth grade .... official middle school-ers this fall … excuse me while I weep into my hankie because my precious baby is not a baby anymore.)

Brayden came home from the party and informed me that she was the only .... ONLY .... girl there without her own cell phone. The birthday girl was given hers as a gift from her parents at the party. I said, "Do you mean their parent's cell phone that they brought to the party?" and she said no, their OWN, personal, private cell phone. Which they used to talk and text each other all night at the party, despite the fact they were all sitting right there next to each other. And text other people who weren't at the party. And Brayden was the only one who didn't have one. And how her life is in shambles without one. And could she have one, PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE, please please please, or am I going to continue my reign as the meanest mother in the world???

So. Although I could babble on for days (imagine that) about how I feel about this, I think I can sum up my opposition to this idea in three basic reasons:

1. She's ELEVEN, for goodness' sake. Not sixteen, not fourteen. It's not like she works, or drives, or goes on school trips, or away sports games, or over night camp, or is ever anyplace by herself that she might need one for security or safety purposes. She is either at school, or with me, or Blaine, or my mom, or my sister, or with someone we trust, at all times. She doesn't NEEEEEEEED a phone; she wants one. Big difference. Plus, she rarely talks to friends on the regular phone, why on earth does she need a cell phone?

2. We have told her (and Kellen and Kendrie, since they've both asked for their own phone as well) repeatedly that until they can help pay for it, the answer is no. When she replies she has enough in savings to buy the phone, I respond that *when* she gets a phone (because yes, of course I know the day is coming, I’m not a total doofus) she will also be responsible for a portion of the monthly cost. Since my kids have chosen the "we don't care if we get an allowance, we want to be lazy and not do any chores" option for this year's summer break, I know for a fact she can't afford to pay for any part of it. Even when they *are* getting a regular allowance, at this age, it's not enough to help pay any great part of cell phone service each month.

3. And this, I must admit, is the kicker. The real reason I don't want my daughter to have a phone, and why although I know it is an inevitability at some point in her future, I plan to push it off for as long as possible: I absolutely, positively, entirely, totally and completely, cannot STAND the sight of teenagers obsessed with sending and receiving text messages. I think it’s discourteous to do when you are in the company of other people (much like I think it’s also discourteous to talk on your cell phone in the company of other people) and I despise how preoccupied and fixated these kids seem to be with their phones.

Obviously, cost is not the issue as long as you have unlimited texting. My problem lies with how much TIME is spent doing it. At even only ten seconds apiece, sending six thousand texts in one month (which my friend’s daughter did a few months ago) is the equivalent of two hundred texts a day --- almost twenty hours a month of texting …. That’s five hours per week of time that could be spent reading, or on homework, or sports practice, or doing some kind of volunteer or charity work. Do I think every minute of every day should be spent constructively? No, of course not. Kids need down time, and to waste time, and I certainly feel texting falls into that category. But I find it weird, and a little silly, that kids are happy to spend so much time sending messages back and forth to one another. Just pick up the phone and CALL if you have something to say, for goodness sake! In fact, texting for one hour a day probably wouldn't even bother me if they sat down, did it for an hour, then were done. But it's the constant, non-stop, a little bit here and a little bit there insidiousness of it that makes me bonkers. And no, to answer your question, I do not send text messages, nor do I open them on the rare occasion I receive them. In fact, I had the texting option turned off my last phone and will probably do it to this phone as well. I DON’T have unlimited texting, and am charged ten cents apiece each time someone sends me one.

I’ve seen people text while driving (unsafe!) and while eating at restaurants (rude!) Last weekend, I saw them texting during a wedding reception, and this weekend, I saw them texting during the Aly & AJ concert I attended with Brayden. Which prompted her to point to the many, many teens and pre-teens around us, texting, and remind me again about how her life is incomplete and what a hag I am.

One friend told me the great thing about texting is that it’s so “non-invasive” because he can send a text without bothering or interrupting the person to whom he is sending, like he would with a phone call. I disagree. I think texting is terribly invasive --- if you’re sending hundreds, or even dozens of messages a day, how is your own time not invaded? I’ve seen very few people who don’t instantly open a text mail they’ve been sent, and who don’t immediately reply with a text of their own. How is that considered non-invasive??

I’m well aware that I’m probably just a cranky-pants who doesn’t understand “these kids today” … but I don’t. My friends with teens all laugh at me and tell me when my kids are older, and have their own phones, I will be sending and receiving text messages like crazy as well because that’s the only way I’ll be able to keep track of them. I hope not. I hope my kids will pick up the phone and call me if they have a question, or need to talk to me. The thought of being relegated as a parent to a brief SYS is a teensy bit insulting to me.

And there you have it. The reasons I don’t think my eleven –year old needs her own cell phone. At least not yet. It’s unnecessary; I’m cheap; and I see what happens when kids (and some adults!) get one. (Actually, this post turned out to be less about my daughter getting a cell phone, and more about my own personal distaste for text messaging. Hmmm, me, grumpy about something. Imagine that.)

Am I wrong? Crazy? Fighting the unavoidable? Do YOUR kids have cell phones, and if so, why? At what age? With what rules and restrictions? Giving her a phone with no texting, or limited texting??? Tract phones? Limited minutes? Free reign? Do they help pay for it?

I’d really like to know, because I have a feeling when school starts this fall, the begging will begin in earnest, and I need to be prepared to either fight or succumb.

The next level

So, always before, my kids have played in the sort of sports leagues where you show up, pay a registration fee, and the kids are randomly assigned to a team, which is almost always coached by a volunteer dad or two. A little fresh air, a little exercise, snacks (which are the most important part of all, don’t you know that?) and if things go well, they learn a few things about whatever sport it is they’re playing.

For now, the sport of choice for my kids is soccer. This makes me a little bit sad, because soccer did not become immensely popular until AFTER I was young, which means I know nothing about the sport. I don’t know a sweeper from a keeper from a stopper from a striker, and I have no clue about the rules or regulations. I have no suggestions about how to help my kids get any better, and the one and only time I tried to practice outside with them I tripped while dribbling and fell flat on my face, in a style reminiscent of an America’s Funniest Home Videos moment. So pretty much, comic relief is all I’m good for.

I felt even more frustrated when we moved here and had to learn our way around a new soccer league. When Kellen wanted to sign up for spring soccer, I had no clue about the difference between a recreational team, traveling rec, academy, or competitive. I just sent in a registration form, and he wound up on a rec team with really great kids. We had casual, laid-back fun … just like we liked it. Except, they only won one game the entire season and he didn’t really learn anything or improve. But hey, snacks were good, so he was happy.

However, for this fall, I was told that he is too old to continue in that division and would have to move up. The coach I talked to at soccer camp a few weeks ago suggested he try out for a competitive team, simply because those teams are put together after a tryout, and he wouldn’t need to “find” a team to play on. As the mom of a “new” kid in the league, the prospect of cold-calling a bunch of volunteer dads and asking if they have a spot on their already put-together team for my son pretty much made me break out in hives …. So I suggested trying out for a competitive team to Kellen. Much to my relief, he agreed.

According to the league website, there would be two competitive tryouts. The first was last Thursday night, and we planned to go, but things just got hectic. We had been busy all week, and Kellen was tired, and he had piano and we barely had time to get across town, and we were meeting friends for dinner …… blah blah. Since there was a second tryout listed for Saturday morning, we decided to wait and go to that one instead.

Imagine my disappointment when I showed up with him Saturday morning, and found out that the tryout was actually two parts: Thursday evening AND Saturday morning. We had missed it. The coach suggested Kellen could try out just the one day, but unfortunately it was raining. As long as the lightening sensor rod-light-thingy at the complex center was blinking, which it was, no one would be allowed on the field. The coach told me both teams (Team A and Team B) had been pretty much put together on Thursday night, and the Saturday practice was just to put the finishing touches on the teams. He offered to take our name and number and let us come back to the first practice, so they could at least take a look at Kellen and see if they had any spots still left open.

I was bummed. Really bummed, on Kellen’s behalf. And a little annoyed, to be honest, that the two-part tryout wasn’t better explained on the website. Not that Kellen is some outstanding, shining star player … he’s not. Nobody points and laughs, either, but I’ll admit I was excited at the thought he might get selected for a competitive team, one with a paid coach, and trainer, and really start to improve in his skills. Now, he already had one strike against him by missing the first tryout, and it looked like thanks to the weather, he wouldn’t even get a chance.

Suddenly, the sun came out. The blink-y lightening rod thing stopped blinking, and the boys, most of who had already been placed on one of the two teams, took the field. And as I sat in my van and watched the boys, I knew we had blown our chance by missing the first day of tryouts. These boys were already comfortable together, and already knew what the coaches wanted them to do. And I got more and more upset, and discouraged, and annoyed, the longer I sat there. “It’s not fair!” I wanted to say. How are new league members supposed to know the ins and outs of how teams are formed? I can even admit that at that point, I was basically pouting. I could tell by watching that Kellen wasn’t as good as some of the other boys … better than several, but not all. And the other boys had a definite advantage in that they all seemed to know one another, and would shout a team-mates name before making a pass. And I sat there and just got crankier and crankier that we had missed out due to our “newbie” status. (still pouting at that point.)

Just then, a dad walked over to his son, who was playing goalie. And in front of all the other parents, he started berating his son for not doing his goal kicks properly, and not having a good form. And the dad was sort of gesturing with his arms, and getting upset, and finally said, really loudly, “You just need to remember how important these tryouts are if you want to get picked for a team!” And the boy took a defensive stance and sounded exasperated and frustrated when he said, “I know, Dad!”

And in that instant I realized how ugly I was acting, and stopped pouting. Who gives a shit if Kellen gets picked for a team? This is supposed to be FUN, no matter what age the kids are. Even if yes, the skill level is getting a little more competitive, I refuse to be one of those parents who wants it more than my kid does. More specifically, I don’t ever want to be *that* dad, and take it personally. If Kellen didn’t get picked, so be it. He could play for a church league, or we’d find some other recreational league. But in that instant, my attitude did a complete reversal. Whatever happened, would happen, and we were going to Sonic afterwards to buy a chocolate shake and celebrate the fact he tried out at all.

A few minutes later, the team assistant walked over to my van, smiling. “Coach wants to offer your son a spot on the “B” team”, she said. “You can think about it, because it’s a pretty big commitment. Fall soccer, spring soccer, indoor arena soccer in the winter, and trainer fees every month. That’s in addition to registration fees, practice uniforms, and game uniforms.”

“No need to think about it,” I said, smiling from ear to ear, “We’re in.”

“Good,” she replied, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “My son’s on the B team too, and we’ve got all the fun, laid back parents. It’s going to be a great year.” And I filled out the registration form, wrote her a check, and she walked off.

A few minutes later the tryouts ended. Kellen came to the van, noticeably dejected. He managed to wait until he got inside before starting to cry. Not big, puffy crybaby tears, but the kind of 10-year old boy tears that squeeze out from under tightly clenched eyelids … the “I’m trying really hard not to cry” kind of crying.

“What’s the matter, buddy? What’s wrong? Didn’t you have fun?” I asked.

“I didn’t get picked,” he said in a small voice, “Coach didn’t ask me to be on the team. He called me over to the bleachers, and asked if I wanted to be on his team, but then he never said anything else to me, so that means I didn’t get picked.”

“Kellen,” I said, barely able to contain my excitement, “You DID get picked! They came over and talked to me … you’re on one of the teams!”

Instead of being pleased, or surprised, he was still upset. “I don’t think I want to play with those boys,” he said, “they’re too rough, and they take it too seriously. They want to win no matter what.”

And I sat there for a second, and realized how very much alike my son and I are. He is not an aggressive, no-holds-barred, leave-it-all-on-the-field kind of kid. He likes the sport; he enjoys playing. And he'll be the first to tell you it's a lot more fun when you win. But if he accidentally knocks a competitor down, he wants to extend a hand to help them back up. If he accidentally falls down himself, he wants to be able to laugh about it before getting back up. He still wants the snacks after the game. Yes, there’s something to be admired about kids who are committed, determined, and competitive. But I also think there’s something to be admired about kids who still think having fun is a top priority.

And I took a few moments to explain to my son what it means to be on a “B” team --- how the boys are still good, and want to get better, and will work really hard to improve, but don’t have a win-at-all-costs mentality. And Kellen smiled, and seemed very relieved.

I think it’s going to be a perfect fit for our family. And I couldn’t be happier.

Be careful or you might get what you wish for

So, the sun came out, just like I hoped. Which was good, considering I had six bored kids in the living room. So we went to the water park. And played. And had fun. And all was well.

Well, let’s back up. Remember when I talked about my hatred for shopping for swimsuits? And how I only owned two suits, and they were both about seven years old, but I just kept wearing them over and over because they both still fit, even if not well? Well, um, I guess I spoke too soon because the last time we went to the lake, I ripped the seam out of one of them. Most definitely because of the friction caused from the innertube. NOT because of the size of my love handles.

So anyway, I took the cowards way out and bought two new suits online. And they arrived this week, and surprisingly, fit fairly well. So I wore one to the water park today.

And I wasn’t even too embarrassed as I walked around, because for once, neither my rear end nor my boobs were hanging out. And the neckline was fairly flattering. And the tummy control panel might have even worked a little bit. And while Sports Illustrated, Swimsuit Edition, wasn’t exactly beating a path to my door, I was able to feel decent about the way I looked.

As I walked around the park, all over the park, I continued to feel ok. When I went back to the locker to get my nephew’s shorts, when he ripped the seat out of his swimsuit, bless his little blonde head --- felt ok. And when I walked to the gift shop to buy him a new swimsuit when we realized his shorts were white. And when I walked Brayden out to the curb so her dad could take her to the doctor’s office (Oh, outer ear infection, why must you make your appearance on a pool day???) And when I walked my other nephew to the soda kiosk. And when I walked our small cooler back to our locker after lunch. And when I walked Kendrie to the bathroom. Etc. Etc. You get the picture.

So why is it, when I returned home late this afternoon --- hot, sweaty, and disheveled, and hopped into the shower ….. and felt something weird while showering ….. I realized that the “hygienic panty liner” that they put in all new swimsuits had been hanging out of my right butt cheek the entire day, and NOT ONE OF THOSE UNGRATEFUL KIDS COULD BE BOTHERED TO TELL ME!?!?!?!

Help me, please

Currently in my living room: Six children, ages 7 - 12, hopped up on sugar from the dozen donuts I foolishly purchased this morning

Plans for today: Local water park

Outside: Raining

Sweet baby Jesus, please let the sun come out.

Amen.

A thousand words .....

Cute little sandals:



Precious little sequins:



An adorable little bow:




An 8-yr old tomboy, HORRIFIED that someone might actually see her in a dress at a wedding:

Not as anonymous as I think

Ya’ll!!!

Guess who I got an e-mail from yesterday!!!

Can you guess? Can you? Hmmmmmmmmm?????????

Yep, Steve Vaughan himself. I’m not sure who exactly out there somehow got a link to my blog sent to him, or when or where or why, but it happened fast. Obviously, the internet is not near as anonymous as I thought it was. Thankfully, he was an extremely good sport about it and has agreed not to sue me for defamation. Or libel. Or slander. Or whatever else he could possibly sue me for, including posting that horrid picture of us from high school. Where, did many of you even notice, I had the exact same haircut as my date ... a fact that I think is even sadder than that dress.

In all honesty, he was good natured about it, and not only had kind, friendly, long-lost-things to say, but even suggested that he and I and my BFF Louis (who was *his* BFF in high school --- wait, did boys actually HAVE BFF’s in high school in the 80’s???) get together for lunch some time.

All I have to say is, after all the fun I poked at him, I think it would be polite and prudent for me to pay for lunch. Sonic or not.

Whew! I'm Exhausted!

OK, now, those of you who have read this blog for a while know that I don't like to brag on myself. I mean, sure, it's common knowledge that I'm a complete health nut, and that I exercise all the time, and I'm so fit and buff and in great shape, and have a totally killer body, blah blah blah, but I try not to be too vocal about it. Just seems sort of rude and show-off-y, if you know what I mean. It's hard enough being the perfect specimen that I am ... no need to rub people's noses in it.

But, I'm so thrilled about what happened this weekend that I just can't keep from sharing it with all of you. I have no doubt you'll be just as thrilled for me, and happy to see the photos.

Although I work out -- LIKE A DOG -- all the time (how else do you think I keep this figure???) I've never really pushed myself like I did yesterday. Pushed myself to my physical and mental limits ... and if I say so myself, proved what an AWESOME example of true physical fitness I am.

I competed in my very first -- but not my last, rest assured -- triathlon this weekend --- and I kicked butt! First place for my age group -- woohoo!!!

Here's proof:


Here I am waiting in line for the first portion of the triathlon, the 100 yard freestyle swim. I'll admit, I was feeling a little nervous since I'd never done anything like this before, but I just kept telling myself how awesome I am and that everything would be ok:




And this is me in the water, completing the third lane. Sure, swimming might not be my forte, but since they didn't have to throw me any floaties, I felt pretty good about it:




After the swim portion of the event, we had to run outside and head to our bikes, for the 3-mile bike ride. Please pay no attention to the fact I am running topless --- there is less wind resistance that way and I can go faster:




Safety being the utmost concern, of course, I took the time to put on my bike helmet before taking off. All the race participants took off from the swim start in 15-second intervals, so at this point we were still pretty evenly spaced:




I was a little nervous when I saw some of the kids wearing hundred-dollar aerodynamic helmets, riding atop fifteen-hundred dollar bikes (so the adult triathlon participant standing next to her said to my Aunt Kristie. Er, I mean, said to ME) This was the part of the race that was hardest for the bystanders, because the 3-mile course was all completed away from the complex, so they had no idea if I would be in last place, or first place, or anywhere in between, until I showed up:




Well, the kids with the fancy-schmancy bikes *did* have a bit of an advantage, and I had maybe fallen a bit behind in the bike race. Or maybe not. It's difficult to tell, with the staggered starts like that. But here is where I got off my bike and started the one-mile run. You can see my mom ...um, I mean, my SISTER .... pointing direction and helping me find the race course. (Somebody parked his white truck right at the entrance to the foot path, so all the contestants were sort of confused about where the run should begin):




Here, though, is where I shone. Shone like the star I am. I might be chubby, but I can run like a gazelle, and I made up ALL the time in the run, passing kids left and right. Again, you don't really know where you are finishing because the kid who finishes in front of you could have started out way in front of you, or way behind you. Likewise for the kids who finish behind you. Maybe they started WAY behind you and made up lots of time. Although I think that would be difficult, because let me repeat -- I am a running ROCK STAR!!!:




Whew! I gotta admit, even someone in as fine of physical condition as ME is winded at the end! 100 yard swim, 3 mile bike ride, and 1 mile run --- my time was 22 minutes. Now we just had to stand around, wait for the other kids to finish, and see how my overall time compared to everyone else's:




I DID IT!!!! I TOTALLY ROCK!!!! I WON FIRST PLACE!!!!!!



Wait, what do you mean you guys aren't falling for any of this? What's not believable? The part about how fit I am? Or how fast I am? Or what an awesome swimmer and bicycler I am???

OK --- fine. I'll confess.

It was my nephew Dalton.

*HE* totally rocks --- *HE* is the awesome athlete --- *HE* is the one who won his first ever triathlon yesterday:



But you know what? I am a proud Aunt, and I ran around that course taking pictures and yelling encouragement like a crazy person. It was really hot and sunny and I TOTALLY starting sweating a little bit, and I think I deserve a medal for that, too.

More About Steve Vaughan

So, since I’ve already violated about ninety-nine privacy rules by posting his name and occupation, I figured I’d go ahead and tell you a story about my school mate Steve.

In the eighth grade (Eighth grade? Maybe ninth? I can’t remember, for goodness sake, that was about a bazillion years ago before I killed all my brain cells with alcohol) it was a well-known fact that you had to dissect a frog in Biology class. I’m not a vegetarian, or any kind of animal-rights activist, so while I had no problem with dissecting a frog in theory, it still wasn’t something I was particularly looking forward to doing. I mean …. just kind of ….. ewww, gross.

So on the very first day of eighth grade (Eighth? Ninth? We’ll go with eighth, for the sake of the story) I approached Steve, who I had known for years, and who was not only a really great guy, but who was also one of the smartest boys in our class. Approached him with an offer he couldn’t refuse: If he would agree to be my lab partner for the frog dissection, and do all of the actual dissecting himself, I would agree to write and type the entire report and he wouldn’t have to do any of it, and then we’d split the credit for both.

Steve thought that was a good idea, so we agreed to work together when the time came. And because I am a paranoid freak very organized, I would remind him of our arrangement on occasion throughout the year. Each time, he would affirm that yes, HE would do all the dissecting, and I would do all the writing and typing. It was a fool-proof plan, no?

Um, no.

The day of the dissection arrived, and I showed up to school confident and happy with my genius plan. I mean, my gosh, with Steve Vaughan, one of the smartest boys in eighth grade as my lab partner, how could I go wrong?

Well, I’ll tell you how. A little thing called the stomach flu got in the way.

Steve showed up to Biology that day looking, well, a little peaked, to be honest. He smiled gamely, if weakly, at me … picked up the scalpel …. made one incision into that little formaldehyde Kermit ….. and threw up all over the table.

OK, that’s an exaggeration. There was a door from the biology room to the attached outdoor courtyard, and he at least made it outside before throwing up. But still ---- major chunk blowing, coming out of my lab partner, who was now completely worthless. So much for my fool proof plan.

Can you guess who got stuck dissecting the entire damn frog by herself??? Yep, yours truly, while dainty, delicate, I-feel-a-little-queasy-Steve had to lie-down for the rest of class.

(Ironically, it wasn’t near as bad as I thought. And I went on to dissect two cats in college without trauma, so I guess I wasn’t horrifically scarred after all.)

Anyway, fast forward to our 10-year high school reunion. The reunion committee sent out surveys beforehand for people to fill out, then complied the surveys into a memory book for the reunion. Not anything snooty about how much money do you make, or name three significant ways you’ve made the world a better place ….. more like, “Where could we find you on a Friday night?” and “Name one thing you refuse to eat.” (In fact, I helped with the survey and some of the answers we got were hysterical …. But, another post for another day.)

One of the questions was “Name your three favorite school memories” and I briefly re-capped the Steve-Vaughan-throwing-up-on-frog-dissection-day-tale, much to Steve’s chagrin. In fact, I believe his exact words to me afterwards were, “You’re never going to let that go, are you? It was the stomach flu, I’m telling you, the FLU!” And I although I believe him completely, what kind of eighth grade lab partner would I be if I didn’t take every opportunity to re-tell the story and embarrass him?

Including telling it now, to all you peoples of the Internet.

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is why I will never receive free gift cards from Steve, despite the fact he is now Chief Financial Officer of Sonic Corporation. Because he couldn’t hold his cookies on dissection day, and I will never let him forget it. That's just the kind of friend I am.

Sonic. And I don’t mean the Hedgehog.

I am both saddened and dismayed to realize there are those of you out there without easy access to Sonic, or (gasp!) those of you who don’t even know what it is. I’ll tell you what it is … it’s what God created on the eighth day when he looked down and had “invent fast food” on his list. And behold, there is Sonic. {cue angel music}

OK, so maybe it’s not that fabulous, but it is pretty darn good food. And amazingly good drinks. And convenience and cheerfulness, served in a cup by a carhop.

In a nutshell, Sonic is a drive-in fast food restaurant (America’s Drive In!) and I’m proud to say it originated here in Oklahoma, and that their corporate headquarters are based right here in Oklahoma City. I’m sure that has something to do with the fact there is one every few miles around here. And yes, to answer those of you who have asked, I do have one very close to my house. Close enough that if push came to shove, I could walk there. (Not happily, I might add, because the only place I walk happily is to the front of the buffet line, but you know what I mean.) In fact, it’s the same Sonic that we used to walk to in high school for lunch, and the same Sonic we used to park at on Friday and Saturday nights when we were teenagers. Nostalgia AND Diet Dr Pepper with soft ice in a Styrofoam cup --- do you SEE why it is the perfect place for me????

According to Wikipedia: Sonic Corporation is an American fast food restaurant chain based in OKC that recreates the drive-in diner feel of the 1950’s, complete with carhops who often wear roller skates. There were 3,290 restaurants in 34 states, plus one in Mexico, as of May 31,2007. The first one opened in Shawnee, OK, in 1953, so to answer the question of the person who wondered if it is a fad, I’d have to say no. Fifty-five years in business means they must be doing something right.

Sonic has always featured unique menu items like hand-made Onion Rings and flavored drinks like Cherry Limeades and Vanilla Cokes, as well as such drive-in staples as hamburgers, Coneys (hot dogs covered with chili and shredded cheese) and corn dogs, shakes and malts. Many different flavors such as vanilla, chocolate, cherry, strawberry, cranberry, apple, etc are available and can be added to drinks. Sonic boasts an impressive 168,894 possible drink combinations, stating that you could have a new drink every day for the next 462 years, a claim that backs up their slogan as "Your Ultimate Drink Stop". All locations also feature "happy hour" every day from 2-4 pm, in which the customer may buy soft drinks, slushes, limeades and iced tea for half price.

Personally, my favorites are the breakfast burritos, onion rings, and tater tots, although Happy Hour is reason enough to get out of bed most mornings.

It’s convenient, it’s fast, and best of all, you don’t even have to get out of your car to eat if you don’t want to. Although I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Sonic with indoor seating (not counting the ones located in malls) most have patio or picnic tables outside. Many days after school we see lots of other moms and kids from our school, because where else can me and all three kids get a soda for under $3 total? So it’s not only the pure joy and happiness of carbonation in a cup, it’s social-hour as well.

Do I think the food is good enough to wait in line for an hour? No, probably not. But that’s because I’m spoiled and have four Sonics within five minutes of my house. When we lived in Ohio, the nearest Sonic was an hour away and although I never made a special trip, believe me, if we were driving past, we stopped. Now, it’s such a staple of my life that at any given time I have Sonic cups in my office, my car, and the kitchen. I am quite possibly the happiest Sonic customer in the world.

{/end commercial}

OK, but HERE is my burning Sonic mystery --- the question that has plagued me for years and years and years … (ok, really, only for a few months since I found out)

See this boy?



This boy right here, standing next to me in this God-Awful picture from my Jr-Prom-that-wasn’t-really-a-prom-because-we-weren’t-allowed-to-dance-at-our-school?**

Although I haven’t talked to him in years, and don’t have his permission, and am probably breaking every internetiquette rule known to mankind, I’m going to tell you a little bit about him (besides the fact he was obviously a genius for taking me to prom ….. no, I’m kidding, he totally didn’t want to take me, I bullied him into it. But that’s another story for another day.)

His name is Steve Vaughan and we went to high school together (duh.) After high school graduation, Steve got an accounting degree, or a finance degree, or something, I’m really not sure. Then, he became a CPA. (He was always a pretty smart cookie.)

Do you want to know what he does for a living now? What is his current job????

He is CHIEF FINANCIAL OFFICER FOR SONIC CORPORATION!!!

WTF??? Somebody *I* know, somebody *I* went to high school with, is CHIEF FREAKING FINANCIAL OFFICER FOR SONIC, and he’s never so much as tossed me a free gift card???? What is up with that? Doesn’t he know I’m the biggest Sonic fan that ever lived? Hasn’t he heard about all the times I’ve plugged his employer on my blog, and all the free publicity I’ve given them? Doesn’t he know that I single-handedly raise company profits every quarter with my Diet Dr Pepper in a styrofoam cup with soft ice obsession????

Um, no, he probably doesn’t. Because I have’t talked to him in like fifteen years.

But you better believe at next year’s reunion there had better be some cards passed from him to me, is all I’m saying!

Ooooh, or maybe I’ll get lucky and Steve will google himself in the next few days and find this journal entry and read about how much I love Sonic and be nice and send me some gift cards.

Oh, shoot, except maybe he’s not over the fact I bullied him into taking me to the prom.

Dang, Mom always said not to be pushy; looks like she was right.

**No comments about the dress, please. Remember, it was the early 1980's, and I was actually quite stylish. (shudder)

Fun Is ......

On a sunny Sunday afternoon, fun is .....

Watching a kid, determined to get up on a U-ski ....



Especially when he succeeds!



And then seeing the same thing happen to the one and only kid who couldn't manage the U-ski two summers ago, but got up her first try this time! (Well, the first try after the initial first try when she flopped around in the water pitching a holy fit like a dying fish when she couldn't fit her feet into the ski the first time around ....like the WORLD was coming to an end .... not that she's dramatic or anything I have no idea where she gets that .... )



Watching kids splash ....



Watching kids contort their bodies like dolphins, and knowing darn good and well that if that were YOU, you wouldn't be able to get out of bed the next morning ...




Watching my nephew ride his kneeboard ...



Watching the boys innertube ...




More specifically, watching my son squeal like a girl ...




OK, if I'm being honest, letting everyone on the boat watch ME squeal like a girl. Only honestly, I wasn't squealing, I was cracking up. With hysterical laughter. And then about two seconds after this picture was taken, I fell off the innertube because I have the upper body strength of a gnat and couldn't hold on and laugh at the same time. You know that 90 pound weakling who used to get sand kicked in his face at the beach? Yeah, *THAT* kid could beat me in an arm wrestling contest. As big as my arms are, there is deceptively little muscle in them.




Being grateful for water-proof casts ...




Watching one of my other nephews wakeboard ...




Watching my oldest nephew flash the peace sign to his friends on the shore ...




Watching him do tricks, and accepting the fact that not even in your younger, more agile days could you do this spin-around trick and not do a face plant right in the lake .... have you ever HAD lake water go right up your sinus cavity and into your brain? No? It's not the most pleasant sensation in the world, let me tell you.




Catching your very own fish with your very own bare hands ..... (don't even ask)




Having Aunt Kelly teach you to ski ...




I SAID ... having Aunt Kelly ....



.... teach you .....




.... to ski ......




... or .....




NOT.


But hey, he gets an "E" for effort, right?

Today's Fun included playing with the cousins, swimming at Grandma's pool, piano lessons, and a baseball game this evening. I swear, not only is all this fun seriously cutting into my blogging time, but it's exhausting as well.