Brandon the Soccer Coach

I realize that in the previous blogs, I have not mentioned son number 3, Brandon, very much. It's not because he doesn't do anything cute or profound. He has his moments just like the other three. The challenge is Brandon always seems to be having a moment, good or bad, and it is somewhat exhausting living through those moments, let alone having the energy to retell the tales.

Case in point; tonight at Jon's soccer game. Through a confluence (thank being married to a Pittsburgher and Al Micheals for use of that word) of circumstances, coincidentally named: "Rich-is-out-of-town-and-God-likes-to-see-how-much-Amie-can-handle-before-she-snaps", I had to take all four children to the soccer game tonight. And as you know, I am the coach. Which created some stress. Especially when Brandon wouldn't stay by the parent who very generously offered to watch my children so I could coach.

So, here is the scene. The temperature is 93 degrees Fahrenheit. My team already wants to quit and go home because they are sweaty and the game hasn't even started. The game finally starts. I am containing my inner Mike Ditka and trying to coach the team (see previous blog for how well that is going). Noah is sitting on the sidelines, looking up from his DS Lite, and repeating every order I give at the top of his lungs. Lauren is on the sidelines, pretending to be Rex puppy (see very first blog) every time I come over for a water break. Every time I go back onto the field after getting a drink, she starts whimpering, yes, whimpering, and crawling around, in circles, on all fours.

And Brandon, sweet Brandon, is standing right next to me on the field. At one point, I was carrying him on my hip and giving commands. At another, he was pulling on my shirt, saying, "What can I yell next?" The final horn blows, five minute early, thank goodness, because even God knew I had about all I could possibly take for the night. Mercifully, the other coach agreed the game was over. Brandon "helped" coach, so I made him stand in line for the handshaking at the end of the game. As we are standing in line, waiting our turn, this child, born of his father and I, but mostly like his father in personality and temperament, says to me: "Mom, don't ever make me coach again! It's way too much running!"

I started laughing; I didn't know what else to say or do. After I regained some control, I said, "Well, remember that next time you want to be on the field with me." How do parents stay sane through these moments? How do I stay sane at all? Especially since, in a case like Brandon, these are not uncommon moments. Given some time and tequila, and some more time, I know I will come to cherish, or at the very least, provide cheap entertainment at parties with these stories, but until then, I think I will keep scheduling those "Girls Night Outs." with the other soccer moms.

Lesson learned: "Only coach soccer if you like to run." or "If you coach soccer, you will run." or "Do not coach soccer if you want to keep your sanity." Oh, wait, that last one should read: "Do not let your four year old be your assistant coach if you want to stay sane."

Coaching Soccer

Recently, I have discovered an ugly-but-true fact about myself: If I was a professional sports coach, I would be Mike Ditka. I would be the coach from the movie, "The Program" saying, "Are you hurt or injured?...Hurt you can still play...Injured means you can't play."* Which is a great attitude for professional sports coaches who are dealing with million dollar egos, but needs to be trampled down when coaching eight year olds at the co-ed, recreational we-just-play-to-learn-and-have-fun soccer level.

I thought I would be one of those "just let the kids play" coaches. I am not. Not even close. In fact, I am the coach yelling (yes yelling, but in the most supportive, nurturing way possible) at my kids to get the down the field, hustle, and get in the front of the ball.

I holler such gems of wisdom like, "If you can touch your teammate, you are standing too close!" Fifty years from now, when I have Alzheimer's, the only thing I will remember is coaching soccer, and will start yelling, "SPREAD OUT! ORANGE TEAM..SPREAD OUT!" at random moments at the nursing home staff. (The upside to these little outburst is that I will get tranquilized pretty darn quick.)

I want to win. Badly. I was horrified to realize that when Jonathon had a groin pull on Tuesday, if this been a big game, or one where money was involved, I would have been the coach holding his leg while the trainer gave him a cortisone shot. In my defense, Jon said: "Mom, I can hold the pain in for this game. Really, I don't mind." Fortunately, I have not completely lost my entire grip on reality, so he sat on the sidelines and cheered his team on to victory.

So, here is the ugly truth: Like most human beings, I want to win, all the time, no matter what. But, as I am teaching my eight year old team, if you play sports, you must accept victory as graciously as defeat. So, we learn from our mistakes. We work on getting in front of the ball and passing to our teammates. We learn to trust that our lesser skilled teammates will come through on the big plays. We learn that when we work together, pass the ball, and work as a team, more often than not we score a goal.

And I, the coach, learn to suppress my inner rub-some-dirt-in-it-Mike Ditka, so our future Beckman's have a place to learn to love the game of soccer.

(*This is a paraphrase of the actual quote, but I think you get the idea. Also, since "The Program" is the title of movie, it should be in italics or underlined, but apparently, while I can coach soccer, I cannot get either font to work, so it's in quotes. This shortcoming makes the English Major in me a little sick and sad. However, it has been overruled by the Mom part of me who is tired and going to bed.)

Monoply Madness

Last summer I sent Noah and Jonathon to summer school. Jon attended for extra help with reading and spelling, while Noah attended because Jonathon was going to school. So the first Friday of the first week, Jonathon arrived home in tears because he wasn't able to go on the field trip like all his other friends. The field trip was to the local grocery store. I was flabbergasted that the academic summer school program was so rigid that they couldn't even figure out how to incorporate reading and spelling on a field trip to the grocery store. I told Jonathon I felt said that he missed out on the trip and made a point of taking only him on my next trip to the grocery store. Noah became disgruntled with summer school after his new friend Tia changed her mind about marrying him.

The reason I am telling you this is so you understand why I absolutely refused to put Jonathon in academic summer school this year. I could not, would not, allow him to get on the bus every morning and feel like only "smart" kids get to go on field trips. He has made amazing progress in school this year, thanks to hard work from his parents, teachers, and vision therapists, and I decided the kid could use a break. As we all know, a break for the kids does not mean a break for the parents. I figured I would reinforce Math, Reading, and Spelling at home this summer, just spending an hour or less reviewing what Jon and Noah already know, nothing stressful for anyone involved.

Well, as I was getting ready to bring out a math game, Jon and Noah set up Monopoly. Those two future tycoons amaze me. They counted out their own money (fairly), made proper change, bought, sold, and traded properties, and in general played with minimum refereeing. It was stunning. Talk about flabbergasted. My math game sucked in comparison. Now, I have to go back to the "mommy bag-o-tricks" and find something more challenging for the two of them. How do you compete with Monopoly?

Today, they had to write about their favorite Pokemon. Jonathon retrieved his Pokemon binder so he could his facts correct about evolution and type. It took them less than twenty five minutes to write their four sentences. Again, while I enjoy the fact my children are smart, I am terrified I only have two more years before I am not longer able to keep up with their homework.

So, summer is off to a great start. No major injuries, no summer school, and as usual, the kids one step ahead of me.

Starting Summer

Last night, against my better judgement, I set up Noah's Slip-n-Slide. I am so happy I told my better judgement to shut up. The kids and I had so much fun. It was hilarious watching the boys trying to figure out how to slide on their bellies and get some distance. Again, ignoring my better judgement and my back, I couldn't resist anymore and had to show them how it was done. Thank Goodness the kids are young; they are still easy to impress. I felt so blessed to be able to spend a warm summer night laughing and playing together, almost like a normal family, instead of the usual episode of the Simpson's I seem to be living.

That experience was definitely a few steps above taking the kids to Oshkosh (1 hr 15 minutes one way) yesterday, so Rich could have lunch with the kids. Rich just opened a BWW there and wanted to see the kids. I didn't have a good reason to say, "No." (Had I thought it out, I could have come up with at least twelve.) The kids were reasonably well behaved during lunch, unlike my husband who would have rather been "motivating" his employees, but the car ride in 88 degree weather nearly killed me.

We don't have individual-controlled air conditioning in the very back of the van, so I let the kids open the windows. The other option would have been to baste the kids with water, turn them over, and let them finish roasting. So, given the heat and the fact they would not stop bickering, it was not a fun trip. Although, Rich did give the boys a "come to Jesus" speech, as he so fondly refers to his talks, which helped immensely. Last night all I had to ask was, "What did Dad say to you?" to curb the bickering.

Jon and I have started soccer and the summer reading program kicks off next week. Rich and I plan on taking the kids to the Milwaukee Zoo and the kids and I are probably going to Minnesota. We are only 1 1/2 hours from Wisconsin Dells, so Rich and I are definitely going to one of the water parks, with or without the kids. No matter what we do, I am sure there will be plenty of (mis)adventures to report from this part of the world.

Tornado Update

Fortunately for us here in Stevens Point, the first tornado watch turned into the Tornado That Wasn't. We had the wind, the hail, and the gray skies, and some touchdowns in surrounding cities; nothing here except drama in the toy room.

After the weather alarm sounded citywide, I let the kids watch the hail for a minute and then hustled them downstairs. As soon as I joined them, Brandon said: "Tornadoes kill people you know." Just matter of fact, like 'Hey, it's true, What's the problem?', was my little professor of doom.

Which prompted Noah to reply: "My heart is breaking because I don't want to die."

Which Jon replied with, "Well, Noah, if you're dead, all of us and our friends probably will be too, so it doesn't really matter."

Which led me to think that it might be less painful to walk outside and into the eye of the storm because at least the pain would be quick and fast, unlike the prolonged agony of talking the Kings of Gloom and Doom down off the Cliff of Drama.

After the storm cleared and I reassured everyone it was safe, we walked back upstairs, ate supper, and sampled the cupcakes Noah is bringing to school tomorrow. I just chased the kids outside to get a little fresh air and give myself a break. The weather is calm for now; we are under warnings until midnight. I will try to keep everyone updated through the blog.

P.S. The DS's and Pokemon cards survived the first round. Lucky me. Rex/Lauren was as content as could be and sat in the middle of the floor drawing on her Doodle Board. Apparently, severe weather doesn't bother our puppy or our little girl.

Preparing for Bad Weather

Last night, the Stevens Point School District, under advisement of Portage County Emergency Planning, cancelled school for Thursday, June 7, 2007 (today). Our area is expected to get 70-80mph winds, hail the size of golf balls, and possible tornadoes. Being me, I have assembled a few basics and put them all in one spot downstairs. They don't cancel school on a whim in Stevens Point, Wisconsin, where our kids to go school even if it 30 degrees below zero, so I figured gathering some basic supplies to be the most prudent course of action.

Jon and Noah, who have had some "preparing for emergencies" classes at school, saw what I was doing. I must say, Jon immediately sprung into action. I now have DS Lites and Pokemon cards sitting against the wall, right next to my bottled water. Their possessions are safe. Noah's backpack is down there as well, so he can be ready for school tomorrow. Pointing out that if the weather is severe enough, school might be cancelled for the rest of the year, was actually the wrong thing to do. Noah replied: "I would miss the last day of school?? That just can't happen!"

As I watched my little boys scurry about the house, rounding up the things they value most, my original thought was this: "What kind of sick values have I taught you kids?" But then I realized that they 1) Have no clue what kind of destruction these storms can create, and 2) They are so sure, so positive that I will take care of them, they can worry about their stuff. Despite what they have studied in school, the potential devastation of the potential storm that is predicted to hit our area is beyond the reality of small children's thought processes.

Jonathon thinks that if his school is destroyed that people all over the United States will send them more supplies, just like they did for the kids of Hurricane Katrina. What I had to explain to him is that this is not a situation in which kids or grown ups want find themselves. So, I think he understands as much as an eight year who was never experienced a horrific storm and lost everything is capable.

(By the way, I haven't had the heart to tell the kids if we lose electricity for a while that they are screwed as soon as their DS's batteries run out of power. One storm at a time.)

We will stay safe and I will post tomorrow morning (if I have electricity) to let everyone know how it went.

Canceling Cable

For the ten tumultuous months in which my family resided in Minnesota, there was a phenomenon that occurred in play group for which I was not prepared. (Okay, two if you count being pregnant with Lauren.) One day, at play group, one of the Mom's announced that she had canceled cable television for the summer. Her announcement was met with "Thanks for reminding me!" and "Oh, I did that last week." I was the only Mom whose jaw hit the ground in surprise, shock, and awe. I was so impressed. Not impressed enough to cancel mine, but impressed that these women were willing to spend entire summers with their children without Nick Jr. to help easy the relentless demands of quality time.

After almost three years, I had finally screwed up the courage to cancel our cable this summer. I had the summer planned without cable televsion. The kids were going to have to (gasp) play with their toys. I would force them outside to play in (horror) the sun, make up their own games, and to possibly roam the neighborhood with other packs of small children. On rainy days aforementioned children would have to entertain each other by inventing games or playing board games they already owned.

However, I forget the most essential piece of advice to make cancelling cable work: "Do not ask your husband. Just do it." I truly believed Rich would support this decision. I was wrong in my belief. What I discovered is that it is not TV my husband dislikes, it it the video games consoles connected to the television for which he has no use. While the kids and I are in our little Nintendo-colored world, he is plotting on ways to hide the Game Cube...permanently. And considering the one vice Rich has is sports, it seems pretty callous to not give him the option of watching whatever event was on once he arrived home from work.

Thus ended the non-glorious, non-awe inspiring, internal cable/no cable struggle of 2007 for me. Truthfully, I can't say I am disappointed cable is still available at the Tolbert house. Like anything, moderation is key. (Knowing I ultimately control the remote helps too.) Ironically, the kids now have a decent backyard where they can play and explore so the cable debate became a moot point.

But to those of you gals in Minnesota who cancelled cable, you go girls. You have my admiration.

Pokemon - The never ending saga

It started out so innocently, like most things in this house. Jonathon wanted Pokemon cards for his 8th birthday. (Truthfully, he wanted them before that, but I set an arbitrary age of 8 because it was finally my turn to make unreasonable rules and I wanted to get as much joy out of that fact as possible.) I remember how crazy these card made kids, fifteen years ago or so, and did not think the intensity of the craze could possibly be sustained. I forget one of the cardinal laws of parenthood: "Never assume anything." This rule is closely linked to the "Do the research before you say 'yes'" law.

Let me reassure you, those of you who are Pokemon virgins, who have firmly refused to let the cards into your house, the powers that are Pokemon are still going strong. The Pokemon people want, hope, and pray that your child's incessant pleading will reach your ears and limits of patience, so your dollars reach their bottom line. Honest to Goodness, what started out with one pack has exploded into Pokemon video games and cards all over the house. Each child has a three ring binder to keep all their cards separate and organized. (Lauren has one card in hers, and it is totally adorable watching her guard it and saying: "No trade, Noah! GET!)

Fortunately, after much yelling and threatening, I have become smart about the cards. If they are left out and about the cards become mine. I can sell them, trade them, or even worse, give them out to siblings as rewards. It is amazing how the threat of throwing out the whole binder doesn't even garner a reaction, but the idea of one of their brothers having their cards is just too much for them to bear. As far as the begging and pleading, if it wasn't this it would be something else, so I pretty much ignore or tune that out.

The upside is that I believe these cards have motivated Jonathon to become a better reader because he wants to be able to find out the information on the cards himself. Also, all the kids have learned about making fair trades and not agreeing to a trade until they have all the information. It absolutely blows my mind that Jonathon can tell me a Pokemon's evolutions, strength, weakness, type, and trainer, but is still reversing letters at school. I know, writing is not a priority for him (in his mind). Funny enough, he is starting to write stories about Pokemon adventures, so as long as I am smart enough to not point he is practicing his writing, we are both (reasonably) happy with the results.

So, instead of playing Barbie vs G.I. Joe, or Army, or He-man vs. She-ra (the best game ever because it involved sticks and phrases like "I've got the poowwwwerrr!"), like I did as a perfectly well-behaved child, my kids play Pokemon. My house is filled with cries of: "Charmander, I choose you!" Suddenly, out flies a Lauren or Brandon running around like crazy following Jon and Noah's attack commands. (It is play imitating life.) I have come to the conclusion that as long as the kids are having fun and there isn't much blood, I am going to let them play and use their imaginations. Who knows? Maybe I can teach my little Pokemon to cook dinner and do the laundry, after they pour me a glass of wine and rub my shoulders. (Apparently, my children aren't the only ones with overactive imaginations.)

Our New Puppy

Well, we have a new puppy in our house. However, like everything in our life, this puppy is atypical; not the kind with four legs and a button nose, although this one tends to give slobbery kisses with her tongue. My darling 2 1/2 year old daughter has decided she is puppy named Rex. To give you some background, Rex is a 10 year old puppy Lauren met at her Aunt Maryanne's house, in PA, and, at one point, was deathly afraid of touching her. Well, the times have changed: Lauren is no longer afraid and barking like mad. Now, the house is filled with the sound of screaming kids and a barking dog.

Our Rex puppy likes to sit on our lap so we can rub her belly. We scratch her head. She has even dumped her dry cereal out on the floor so she could eat like a dog. It is not uncommon for her to eat "doggy treats" out of our hands. If "Rex" is feeling particularly mischievous she will put her brother's Pokemon cards in her mouth and carry them around the house, which incites a small army of boys chasing after her. Well, chasing after their card, as she well knows. Sometimes, she morphs from "Rex" to monster puppy. Her barks and growls become deeper and she might try to nip. When our Rex needs attention, real or perceived, she stands up on the couch and starts barking. Loudly. Persistently.

We are having some issues, since our puppy does not like some of our rules, such as, "no puppies on the bed" rule, or "dirty puppies still need to take baths." My personal favorite of the rules seems to be the most fun to break, which is the "no slobbering on Mommy" rule. (I know it is because I hate my face being slobbered on by one child, let alone three others who magically become dogs so they can slobber on me too, so my reaction makes the game that much more fun.)

While this puppy is the process of being housebroken, I am relieved not to wake up to the morning surprises real puppies tend to leave behind for their humans to clean. Also, I can take Rex to the park or shopping(usually minus the leash), and still lay her down for naps in the afternoon. Another upside is that when Lauren is done being Rex puppy, she is a dancing princess that likes to wear dresses that flounce, while simultaneously practicing her boxing, head butting, and karate kicking skills. All in all, I would say we have a very normal little girl/puppy growing in our house who likes to rip things apart and causing chaos.