Truckers

“Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.” Psalm 25:4-5


When we went to the Precious Moment’s Chapel a few weeks ago, I forgot to include that we stopped by the Petro Truck Stop on the highway on the way there to eat lunch.


This was probably, in all honesty, the highlight of the trip for my two boys.


We ate at the Pizza Hut/Taco Bell amongst all the souvenirs and gifts available at the truck stop. They’d seen the neon sign for “Theatre” when we came in so that drew them further into the truck stop. Unfortunately, the theatre was under remodel and shielded in plastic.


But they ventured on, into the Super Truck Showroom (you really need to flip through the pictures to get the full effect), where you can buy fancy chrome things for your semi and mud flaps and all kinds of light kits. There was a big semi inside with a mural painted on the trailer of scenic sites from around the US (you’ll find it in the slideshow). Then there was a lime green “tractor” (of tractor-trailer fame) on a turntable by some big windows. (It’s in the slideshow too.)


Anyway, the turntable was turned off.


While the kids were checking out the lime green beast, they were especially fascinated by the Peterbilt symbol enshrouded in a fancy light kit on the giant chrome bumper. My 8YO pointed out the logo to me and when I walked around to see what he was pointing at, the truck began to move.


“Did I do that?” he said.


I noticed that a man and a woman had walked up to the wall close to the side of the turntable opposite of where we were standing. They were talking about something on the wall and there was some kind of switch.


“I don’t know,” I said.


Then, the man and woman noticed the kids’ wide eyes at the rotating semi, and they turned it off.


The 8YO asked the man, “Did I do that?”


The man said, “No, but your brother did.”


“Really??” they said.


He said, “Yeah, when he steps on the floor like that, it turns it on.”


So my 6YO stepped onto the turntable, and it started up. Then he stepped off of it, and it turned off.


The man and woman were really grinning at this.


All in all, we spent probably 10 minutes at the semi turntable with the kids trying different things to get it to go. The kids never figured out that the man and woman had anything to do with their turning off and on the turntable.


Later in the trip, I spilled the beans.


Tonight, two weeks later, my 8YO is still mad at me for telling them the truth about the turntable.


He said I took all the fun away.


He said he “thought it was a miracle or maybe magic”, but I ruined it. He also thought at the time that he might have “forced” it. He’s pretty in touch with all things Star Wars.


Remind me not to disclose any other fun killing truths inherent to childhood for a good LONG time! I guess when they want to know the truth, they’ll ask me.


Oh, and I’m pretty sure after all this, that both of my children will grow up to follow in their Pa Pa’s footsteps and become truckers!


Maybe I’ll ride shotgun on a few long hauls.


Nope, I’d probably take all the fun out of it!

Fire!! Or not...

“If it is burned up, he will suffer loss; he himself will be saved, but only as one escaping through the flames.” 1 Corinthians 3:15

So there I was, minding my own business in the church office, talking to the church secretary, when it happened…


AAAANNNGGGGGKKK!!! AAAANNNGGGGGKKK!!!


Little flashing strobes…


AAAANNNGGGGGKKK!!! AAAANNNGGGGGKKK!!!


Making our eardrums scream for help…


The fire alarm!


“Crap!” I thought. (Yes, I thought “Crap!” at church.) “Did I leave something on in the kitchen?”


I quickly went down to the kitchen to ensure my innocence while the Parents Day Out and Preschool kids evacuated the building.


No smoke.


No fire.


The church secretary silenced the alarm.


Then we heard sirens in the distance, steadily getting louder. The Fire Department was on its way!


First was the ambulance looking truck, then the pumper truck, then the ladder truck, and then the Fire Chief with the 4-wheel drive. The fire station is only about ½ a mile from the church. I’m thinking their time was probably under two minutes. Quite impressive, really.

Anyway, it was definitely a Kodak moment at church. I had to borrow a camera!


The date stamp wasn’t set on the camera, so it said it was roughly 3 ½ years ago, but I can assure you, it seems like it was only yesterday.


Wait, no, really it WAS!!


It was probably the most excitement I’ve had at church in a while, or maybe ever! Long story short, they think the sprinklers may have had low pressure or something.


Don’t you just love security systems?


The Bible Study class that was meeting eventually emerged, and they all blamed my cooking for setting off the alarm.


Apparently I wasn’t the only one doubting my culinary skills.


For the record, it was not my cooking... not this time.


The End.

Leaping Lizards (or Toads)!!

"So Aaron stretched out his hand over the waters of Egypt, and the frogs came up and covered the land."  Exodus 8:6

I've been going through some old pictures on the computer and noted a pattern in some of the photos of my youngest son. 

Did you pick out the pattern?

Good!

I thought maybe it was just me.  

Hope you've had a "toadally" awesome day!  (Sorry, couldn't resist.) 

Hearsay

"All a man's ways seem innocent to him, but motives are weighed by the Lord."  Proverbs 16:2


Here’s a conversation from our house last night:


Hub: “It’s about time for them to go outside.”


Me: “I know, but I think it is too cold.”


Hub: “Their water thing is really gross.”


Me: “I know. I have to clean it out every single day or else it gets really nasty.”


Hub: “They’re beginning to stink.”


Me: “And when they want something, they won’t shut up!”


Hub: “Well, as soon as the weather warms up they’re going out to the barn.”


Me: “I guess they could go tonight if we give them a heat lamp.”


[Brief moment of silence...]


Kid1 to Kid2: “Are they talking about us???”



Actually, we were talking about these guys:

But if the beak fits….

Worn Out!

“Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting…” Proverbs 31:30


I found this guy* out in the yard a couple of days ago.

*I say "guy".  Might be a "girl".  There's hardly anything left of him/her.  Anyway, this was once a black swallowtail. 


Look at those wings! The bottom ones are completely gone, and the top ones gave out just in front of my front porch.


I think he would be considered an elderly butterfly.


Quite a stark comparison from his days of youth, when the scales of his wings had intricate patterns of blue and orange and beautiful teardrop extensions on the bottom.


Think he remembers it?


Hard to say. But I’ll bet he lived his life to the fullest. He’s the first butterfly I’ve ever found who has worn his wings completely out.


Usually a bird finds them first…


Anyway, I put him on my African violet in my windowsill, and there he lived out the rest of his moments as a flightless butterfly, without a care in the world. No birds in the kitchen.

Now get out there and wear your wings out today! Well, maybe not completely out. Save a little for tomorrow. But make the most of the days you have!


"Show me, O Lord, my life's end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life."  Psalm 39:4

Farm Day

“I believe in the future of farming, with a faith born not of words, but of deeds. Achievements won by present and past generations of agriculturists, in the promise of better days through better ways. Even as the better things we now enjoy have come to us from the struggles of former years.” - First paragraph of the FFA Creed as I remember it from memory (Ok, it isn’t spot on, but it has been many moons). I was Creed Speaker in 9th grade.

Today was “farm animal day” at kindergarten and several of the teachers had rallied the local FFA* kids to bring out their animals to let the kindergartners take a gander at them.


*That’s Future Farmers of America – Agriculture Education, for those of you who have never worn the blue and gold jacket. I myself was President of my chapter many moons ago.


Many moons. And I felt it today, hanging out with kids who are literally half my age.


Anyway, I was certain there would be a chicken shortage if I didn’t bring my representatives! It is my duty as a chicken mother of a kindergartener.


I borrowed the neighbor’s truck, loaded up the chickens, luckily put on an extra hooded sweatshirt and filed in right behind my younger cohorts and their parents.


For the record, I was the only one with a poofy haired rooster.

It was cold this morning! I brought three of my baby chicks, but was afraid to leave them out for fear they would get sick. My big chickens don’t really care, but the babies don’t have all their feathers just yet. So I stuck the two in the cat carrier back in the front of the truck and stuck one lucky contestant inside my jacket. I would take him out when the kids came by so they could pet him.  He was petted today approximately 225 times.  I'm thinking there will be a chicken nap this afternoon.   


All in all, nine kindergarten classes got to see all kinds of animals thanks to the FFA (who I hear got the rest of the day off of school) and a good time was had by all!

My neighbor in the line up, Napoleon.  He had some attitude.  Maybe he was living up to his name. 

My other neighbor was Bo Bob.  He is my new best friend.

Along with the work, smells, and poop that comes with owning farm animals, you also get, as an added bonus...

Cow slobbers!

Hmm.  I think I'll think of this the next time I have a hamburger.

And this either made the day or horrified several kindergarteners.

That right there kids is why mommy says "no" when you ask for a baby chick. 

At least it didn't happen inside my jacket!

Clotheslines

“What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.” Ecclesiastes 1:9

Remember clotheslines?

Remember when you used to go visit your grandma and she was hanging clothes on the line? Remember how she hung everything, right down to her skivvies out there? Remember how she lived in town and didn’t have a privacy fence and no one cared if they saw her skivvies or not?

Ok, maybe that was just my grandma.

I consider a significant portion of my life affected by the clothesline. I didn’t have a dryer growing up. We either hung our clothes on the clothesline out under the ash tree or we hung them inside the house on hangers all over the place. In the winter, we always had the woodstove going and you could get a nice pair of dry stiff jeans in about an hour.

Just about the same time it takes in the dryer, really.

All except the waistband.

And I can’t tell you how many times we forgot to bring in the clothes off the line. I’d have to rush out to get a pair of jeans off the clothesline in the morning before school and sometimes they were quite damp with dew. I’d wear them anyway and they would dry for the most part by noon.

Yes, we lived in town. Yes, I hung my skivvies out there too. But I wised up after seeing grandma’s on display. I would hang a load of towels on the outside lines of our four-lined clothesline and hang my underpants in the middle so they couldn’t be seen. Genius, I know!

It worked every time unless the dog tore all the towels down. Something about hanging flapping fabrics that always seemed to mesmerize him.  He couldn't reach the underpants. 

Anyway, I moved out. Got a washer AND dryer. And swore I would never return to my old ways.

My first house was in a new subdivision and had restrictive covenants that “no exterior clotheslines shall be permitted.” I remember them well because I was on a mission.

You see, the man cattycorner behind me had no privacy fence and there was an empty lot beside me that we eventually would have liked to have seen a house built on. But, everyone who came to see the empty lot was also privy to seeing this man’s underpants flapping in the breeze on his clothesline. I copied the restrictive covenants, placing a few copies over several months in his mailbox with the clothesline area highlighted.

Just an FYI from a good neighbor, right?

I think I even called the developer. He said it was the city’s deal to enforce, but with all the wayward souls the local police department has to convert here everyday, they weren’t too interested in my clothesline mission. I’m not even sure they had a code enforcement officer.

Why even have restrictive covenants anyway if we leave it up to the good neighbors to enforce them?

Anyway, we eventually all put up privacy fences, like good neighbors do in a subdivision, and never spoke to each other again. A house was built 10 feet from my home and we decided it was time to move since the suburbs were closing in on us!

I think the clothesline man still lives there happily ever after.

So we move out here, which is more of a rural neighborhood, as we have “close” neighbors on varying acreages. No restrictive covenants out here. We can have animals, poop, kids, swing sets, and clotheslines if we want.

And the secret is…

I want a clothesline.

I’ve come full circle!

My blankets dry for free in the sun much faster than I can pay the electric dryer to do the job.

How do I know this since I don’t have a clothesline? Last year I began washing our blankets and hanging them out over my fence. I use my husband’s clamps to secure them and realized I really have to clamp them down to keep them from flapping if I don’t want the fence to tear them up. He balks at my using his “tools” for laundry, but I think I use them enough that they are considered mine now anyway.

And so today, if you drive by my house, you’ll see my bedroom blankets on display out on the fence. I would also like to issue this formal apology to all my neighbors in the event they believe my laundry to be offensive. I also promise to use a dryer for all our skivvy drying needs from here on out.

And I promise not to look if you want to hang yours out too!

Spring Break In Pictures

"May the Lord make your love increase and overflow for each other and for everyone else, just as ours does for you."  1 Thessalonians 3:12

My 6YO likes to draw. He draws multiple pictures each day usually with a superhero theme to them, or some kind of comic book adventure. He wants to be an artist when he grows up. Or a policeman. Or Batman.


I guess yesterday the teacher said, “When you finish your name work, turn the paper over and draw a picture on the back of what you did for Spring Break.”

Here’s what he drew:

I wonder how many of the other kids’ pictures looked like his.

Here’s Daddy with the post hole diggers:

Here’s Daddy with his drill:

Here’s Lucky figuring out that the fence is for him:

Here’s where we dug up the septic lines:

Here’s me:

This isn’t the first time he’s drawn me this way. Must be a common expression of mine.

Here’s a picture of him and his friend we met at the museum:

Here’s us in the car:

Here’s Lucky behind the fence looking rather sad:

He of course forgot going to Pa Pa’s house, seeing his cousins, countless hours of video games, the Precious Moment’s Chapel, so I guess this was the stuff that really made an impression on him. Funny the things we remember from busy weeks.

I just hope he doesn’t always remember me like this:

Mud Puppies

“When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them, and they came and filled both boats so full that they began to sink.” Luke 5:6-7

Ok, so I read The Frugal Girl’s blog, because I too am a tightwad and us tightwads need to stick together. Her son, Joshua, is following in her footsteps and has started a 365 project, which is where you post a picture every day for a year with maybe a little explanation of it or whatever. Just something short. I think her son is 12 or so. He’s encouraged by comments, as any blogger is.


Anyway, yesterday he had this post.


Axolotls.


I don’t even know how to say that.


Axe-O-Lot-Ls?


I don’t know.


I know them as Mud Puppies.


You see, I was once quite the river rat with my stepdad. Just another facet of my life you had no idea about, huh?


We used to hop in the flat bottom boat and run up and down the Neosho River and run trot lines and fish for drum. I remember how the “shad” used to flip up out of the water. I remember the drum fish making those little rocks in their head vibrate near dusk and they were really loud. How do I know they have rocks in their heads? Because I used to dig them out! And KEEP them!


Gross, I know.


I caught a 17 pound catfish on my trot line one year. And I had to clean it! They put my picture in the local paper. I had a bad perm and a giant fish. I think I was in fifth grade.


I once won “Smallest Fish” at a fishing derby. The fish on the trophy was bigger than the fish I caught. Made the paper again. Same bad perm. Might have been the same year.


We also used to go “camping” out on the sand bars of the river and I used to like to hunt for shells. I don’t know what kind of mollusks lived in the Neosho River, but I can tell you that some of the shells had beautiful pink and purple mother-of-pearl on the inside.


One year we even found a piece of petrified wood. Although I’m not sure whatever happened to it.


We also used to go grasshopper hunting to find the biggest grasshoppers we could find, stick them in a 2-liter plastic pop bottle, and then stick them in the refrigerator. I think the fridge kept them from dying or hopping around too much. Then we would use them for bait on our nightly check of the trot lines. I still remember the black stuff they would spit on me right before I stuck a hook in them. Yikes!


The catfish loved them, or so I was told.


After months and months of catching and cleaning catfish and whatever else we caught, we’d have my stepdad’s whole family over for a fish fry. I remember we filleted my big fish and cut him into “steaks.”


So what does this all have to do with axolotls?


Well, once when I was about 8 years old, my stepdad brought me one home in a bucket, right out of the river. I’d never seen one before (and hadn’t seen one since).


I probably asked to keep it.


I didn’t get to keep it and I remember letting it go back into the river.


And here I am, 34 years old, and I find out that they sell Mud Puppies in some pet stores!


So, thanks to Joshua today for bringing up lots of river and fish memories with his simple picture from the pet store.


I, on the other hand, will not be rushing out to buy an aquarium to get an axolotls myself. I think I’ll just live with the memory of the Mud Puppy in the bucket. That’s enough for me!


“Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” – Chinese Proverb

Fencing - The Marital Edition

“He seldom reflects on the days of his life, because God keeps him occupied with gladness of heart.” Ecclesiastes 5:20

For WEEKS we’d left him out there in the barn. For WEEKS he’d been their protector. For WEEKS he’d not turned a curious eye towards them.


But then… he figured out they were DELICIOUS!! Who doesn’t like chicken??


After rash of (okay, 4) chicken killings, something had to be done.


Our puppy had to be penned up, as he would never be rehabilitated with a steady stream of chicken on the hoof.


I called the local fence company and had one of their cronies come out and do a free estimate. Unfortunately I’m pretty sure the trip out, plus one of the salesman’s house payments, was included in the quoted price.


I never thought I’d have sticker shock from a chain link fence.

The estimate came back at roughly twice what I thought such a fence ought to cost, but then again, my fencing knowledge is pretty limited.


The next day I headed to my friendly home improvement store and checked out supplies. Sure enough, materials alone were approximately one-third the cost of the quoted price.


“We can do this ourselves and save money,” we said once again.


And so it was on Thursday that we began the great chain link fence project.

We dug the holes, only hitting one septic line (a record for us on any previous digging project) and merely knocked a tiny hole in it that was “easily” fixed with a rubber wrap patching thingy. (My plumbing terms are pretty limited.)

And I say “easily” because it was only easy after I dug with a spade all the way around the four-inch pipe which was unusually close to a two-inch neighbor. But I got ‘er done!


So Thursday was dig the holes and set the post day and I was in charge of the on-the-post level, apparently my strongest talent in fence building. I can watch bubbles all day long.

We got all the posts in and level with minimal amounts of griping from my “supervisor” also known as my husband. He goes into Foreman mode and berates the help of their short comings. I threw a can of spray paint and hit him in the belly and his attitude improved.


Don’t you wish you could do that at your job? Your boss is particularly cranky, so you just whack him and he straightens up.


If I ever get a job again, maybe I’ll try it.


But only if I work for the government…


and am a union member…


and have a backup plan.


Anyway, my cousin came over Friday night as we were stretching the chain link. The husband had to pull his truck bumper perilously close to the house.


Please add at least $500 to the cost of the materials for my panic and anxiety. Ok, thank you.


However, no houses were hurt in the stretching of the chain link, which is another record in any project attended by my cousin. He is my hub’s regular partner in crime in digging up things that should be left alone, or cutting down trees that are particularly near and dear to my heart. Heavy equipment is usually involved.


Then yesterday was tie everything together and put up the bar on top day. The new fence shined like a diamond in the sun.

This morning as we left for church, we stuck old Lucky in his new pen. He sat sadly at the gate and watched the car drive down the road.


On the way home, the hub asked, “Do you think he’ll still be in there?”


“I don’t know,” I said. This was our first chain link endeavor.


But there our captive sat when we returned. And we were so proud! Not only that the fence actually held the dog, but that once again, we’d completed a project without having to get a divorce.

Maybe we’ll put away the money we saved for marriage counseling once we start on the bathroom I tore up.


Maybe I’ll keep another can of spray paint handy, just in case.

Hairy Legs in Wintertime

Now I’m no scientist or meteorologist, but I’d have to say that this winter was a COLD and snowy one. No special tools needed, just my observations. One morning we woke up and had snow up past my knees and another morning, the TV said it was -28 degrees.

Cold and snowy. Yep, that’s what I thought.


Anyway, the weather has turned off very warm and spring-like and everything is greening up nicely. I’ve got little radishes and turnips sprouting. I wondered before if I was too early and now I’m hoping they make before it gets too hot. Which, by the way things are going, could be next week.


Or it might be snowing again.


Oklahoma – you never know.


I’ve already had to coop up Roany due to his chronic overeating habit now that the grass is greening up. He stands and stares at us by the fence like he wants us to do something with him, but then of course, he runs because he likes us to chase him before he gives in. He thinks I need the exercise. The dog helped me this time by barking and chasing after him. Brought a little variety to our scheme and was just enough to confuse Roany into giving up early.


I thought I’d brush him since I was sure he was shedding profusely after all the warm weather we’ve had.

And I was right.

His hair fell like snow to the ground and made a nice pony blanket for the cat to cuddle up in.

Today is Roany’s fifth anniversary of arriving at our house. The Lap of Luxury as he likes to think of it, after being in a rocky pen for several years before landing here. I’ve brushed him umpteen times after a winter and have never noticed THIS before…

I do believe this is the longest leg hair Roany has ever grown since I’ve known him.

I’m sure his legs were well insulated this winter.


And I’m glad I don’t have a winter predicting mechanism involving leg hair of my own!

The Sistine Chapel - The Other One

Spring Break is upon us, and that means…

Well, we’ve got to find something to do.

Yesterday, I finally took the boys to the “Sistine Chapel of the Ozarks” in Carthage, MO – the Precious Moments Chapel. I’ve been there several times myself, but hadn’t been in probably 10 or more years. My Grandma Hazel and Aunt Vera always liked to go up there and I was a tagalong many times. In fact, I remember when what is now the gift shop used to be a “fancy” (to me) restaurant. Vera bought us lunch and I ordered a Monte Cristo sandwich and had chocolate cheesecake for dessert.


Probably one of the most memorable meals I ever ate.  I mean like where I actually remember the food. 

The weather for our trip was cold and rainy, but we were committed to doing something and I drug my uncle along since he confessed to never having been before. I thought he should see it at least once. In fact, I think everyone who passes through the area should see it at least once.

The boys thought these guys were going to shoot water into their ears.  Must expose them to more instruments... 
 

I noticed some changes had been made to the paintings inside the chapel since I was there last. There was some construction going on to the side that houses the Beatitudes in stained glass, so we didn’t get to see those. I still remember the sandblasted tear on the girl crying over spilled milk. “Blessed are those who mourn…”

Anyway, even if you don’t like Precious Moments particularly (like me), I think you’ll still appreciate the effort and beauty that the artist has put into this project. I think too that the paintings will remind you of some beloved Bible stories and that you’ll appreciate the whimsical symbolism he places within his paintings.

For me, the best part of this visit was not only sharing one of my childhood experiences with my children, but the fact that this was the first time I’d gone and taken a digital camera. Before, I’d always had cameras that contained film, so I had to be choosy as to what I took pictures of because maybe I only had 24 exposures. Then I would have to have them developed, and my cameras never had any fancy features like a zoom or anything. They were the REAL point and shoot versions.

So, yesterday, I took as many pictures as I wanted to! And I hope you’ve enjoyed the few I’ve posted here.

If you're ever up around Carthage, I would suggest a stop in.  Chapel tours are free and on the hour.  Here's the link.

Chick Chick

I’ve been feeling musical this week for some reason, so here’s another song to entertain you.

Yesterday we were hanging out in the barn and noticed the little boy across the street was headed our way with a chicken in his hands.


We’d suspected they were moving ever since we saw their two horses leave in a trailer last week. So, I guess we’ll be getting new neighbors in the rent house, for the fourth time in five years.


Anyway, they gave us their last chicken. Her name is Chick Chick.

Chick Chick was once part of a flock of 26 hens they had. Some kind of animal kept getting in with the chickens and killing them, but they were unable to keep the animal out, and so Chick Chick is the final survivor.


Now she’s moved across the street and been put in with our bunch. They’re not totally accepting of new comers right off, but the less dominant rooster has been following her around like she belongs to him now. He’ll take any cast offs he can get.


This morning I discovered that Chick Chick is quite a friendly chicken. When she saw me come around the corner, she ran to me like a long lost friend. I bent down and patted her like a dog. Then I told the kids that the new chicken is tame and to not be chasing her like they do the others. I told them to call her and then just pick her up. This was very exciting to them, since they’ve had very few chickens go into their arms willingly.

Chick Chick was very interested in checking them out too. She pecked at their shoes and spots on their clothes. She tried to eat my green fingernails. She clucked the entire time, like she was just talking to us.

Even though Chick Chick may be an outsider with the rest of the flock right now, she’s already moved up to favorite chicken with the humans because of her personality. The kids are convinced she has a bigger brain than the rest of the chickens, and she IS a blonde so I’m sure she’ll have more fun than the other chickens. Ok, maybe not.


Regardless of the woes that life has brought you, sometimes a good attitude can make all the difference.


“Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” 1 Peter 4:12-13

First Game

"We do not want to be beginners.  But let us be convinced of the fact that we will never be anything else but beginners, all our life!" - Thomas Merton

I had a dream last night where my team showed up without their uniforms. Then after the kickoff, they all just stood still and the other team ran the ball down the field and scored. I was horrified that they didn’t know what to do, since I was the one who was supposed to have taught them.


But…


Today was our first game and everyone showed up in uniform and ready to go. Apparently green is a popular color this year for soccer teams in my town, so we weren’t the only “green” team there. Luckily we were playing a “blue” team for our first game!


Oh, how confusing it will be when we play another green team!


But for today at least, we were able to tell who was who.


We won the coin toss and kicked off first and it was only minutes into our first game when we successfully scored our first goal. When the ball went out of bounds, the kids threw it in over their heads with both feet on the ground, just like we’d practiced. Now, keeping it in bounds is another story, but let me revel when I can!


All in all, the game is a total blur, but I think we made 4 or 5 goals, depending on whether or not you “count” one made for us by the other team. I don’t know how many times the other team scored, but I know they did. At this age (6 and under), the teams don’t keep score and the coach gets to run around like a chicken with their head cut off chasing the children down and trying to tell them what they think they should do.


We had very little snot, and even fewer tears and no band-aids were needed, so I felt like the game was a complete success!

*Note to self: Must bring band-aids for next game, just in case.


I hope my little team left the field today feeling like complete champions. I hope they had a good time and enjoyed their sugary snacks from the concession stand after the game. I hope their parents had nothing but praise for them on their way home. And I hope all our games go just like this one!


Maybe being the coach isn’t such a bad gig after all!


Now if everyone would just stop calling me that, I’d be okay.