Soccer, Tball, Banana Fana Fo-Fana

Do you remember when you were a kid and you played sports and your mom looked like she was always in a hurry and you didn't really understand why? Well I understand.

For the first time as a parent, I had not one but TWO kids doing sports at the same time. I know what some of you are thinking, "Try having more than two kids, newbie."

After basketball ended, Ali decided she wanted to play soccer. I was honestly a little disappointed. Quite frankly, I don't understand that "only-use-your-feet" business. I never played. I don't know the rules. I don't know the lingo. And sometimes I accidentally sat on the players' bench thinking it was there for spectators. They really expect me to bring my own chair!?

I will admit, though, that seeing Ali play it was SO MUCH FUN. She's actually really good! I mean I know I'm biased, but the girl is tall and skinny and fast. She's coordinated with her feet, she's smart, and, most importantly, she had fun playing. I don't think her team won very many games, but not knowing much about soccer meant I really didn't pay attention to the score!

Look at that kick!!! She really loved being the goalie, but my favorite part was watching her play the field. I've seen her play softball. I've seen her play basketball. Neither of those sports really sparked much aggression in that kid, but soccer brought some of that out in her! I mean yes, she was still my little girly-girl who would sometimes dance and get sidetracked. :)

During all this time, we had Jordan playing tball (we're not allowed to call it that though. "I don't play tball, I play baseball!!!") It turns out that our little prodigy doesn't care much about being good at baseball. He's your typical 3 year old tball player who likes to play in the dirt and has no idea what's going on 98% of the time. Despite that, though, he still looks adorable.

See that uniform? The first game he just wore black shorts because we couldn't find any pants to fit him. Then my mother-in-law found him a pair of baseball pants and took them up about 2-3 sizes. Good thing she's good with a sewing machine! Otherwise he'd just been wearing black shorts all year. Also, his tiny fat feet aren't big enough for cleats, so he has to wear good ole tennis shoes. His shirt fits him alright, but it's a tad too short so it can't be tucked into his pants. I don't think his ill-fitting clothes have hurt his performance much, though. 

Even though things got a little hectic for a while, we managed and enjoyed every minute of it, as I'm sure most parents do. I have a feeling, though, that this is only the beginning of our hectic lives as parents with athletic children. Oh boy.

I Need To Poop, Mom

It has literally been forever since I have posted anything on here! Not that nothing has been going on--really there has been TOO MUCH going on that I just haven't found the time.

So today, let me interest you in a little story about my stinker boy.

As you probably already know, my child has never been a good sleeper. He's much better now than he was for the first 18 months of his life, but he still doesn't let us sleep through the night more than a few days a week. He wakes up crying because he's hungry, thirsty, had a bad dream, misses us, wants his sister, can't find his doggie, is cold, needs to pee, fell off the bed, can't find his ninja toy, wants to read a book, etc.

Let's get something straight: I am not one of those moms whose kids sleep with her from the day they're born until they're 23. I like my space. I don't like having feet in my back and a butt in my face. So anytime he gets in bed with us, I immediately turn my back to him (because he's going to kick me... and I'd rather it not be my boobs). Sometimes, if I'm not really really sleepy, I'll just pick him up and stick him back in his own bed... followed by several minutes of crying and, "But I neeeeeeeeeed you!" Go back to sleep, kid, it's 2 a.m.

Last night he ended up in bed with me (when did that even happen?!) and my husband ended up on the couch. This meant I slept on the very edge of the bed while Jordan elbowed and kicked me for several hours. At around 4, he jumped up and started crying, "Mommy I needa poop!" My first thought was, "Oh dear Lord, please don't let him be sick." So I jump up and run him to the bathroom (expecting the worst, you know what I mean), flip on the light, and toss him onto the toilet. "Mamma, cover my eyes, it's too bright." So now I'm holding him to make sure he doesn't fall into the toilet while also shielding his eyes. Luckily, he wasn't sick, he really did just need to poo.

We stay in this uncomfortable (for me, anyway) position for about 5 minutes while he does his business. Finally he says, "Mama, wipe my butt, I wanna go back to bed." So I do that, while still shielding his eyes because obviously it's still too bright for him, and then we go back to bed. That's when I realize he had peed in my bed. Ahhhhhhhh!!

So I did what any respectable parent does in that situation: I threw a towel on top of it and went back to sleep. Surely I'm not the only mom to ever do this. Right???

After a couple more hours of kicking/elbowing, my alarm goes off. I roll over and give him a kiss and say, "Good morning sweetie, I love you." He springs up and says, "Mama, you can't go up to the castle!!" "Oh, okay, why not?" I ask. "Because you just can't because the cars can't and they go vroom vroom!!"

Just another day in paradise!