Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Forget the bunnies...

...and all that jazz.  Go for something bold and dare I say...heroic?  Is anyone surprised?

Hope you had a wonderful Easter weekend and that it was as full of superhero's and Elmo's as ours was.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Dinner and a Show

I can still remember my first musical-it was The Music Man and I think I was about six years old.  Yesterday, I took Boy O to his first musical, Billy Elliot.  A bit edgier than The Music Man, but our thought was that he would enjoy seeing kids close to his size dancing and singing.  From what I could see, he seemed to enjoy it all-the car ride down to the city, eating in a fancy restaurant, walking into the theater, all the people, the lights dimming, the red curtains opening and music blasting from the orchestra accompanying the performers.  He sat in his seat, eyes wide for the entire three hours-and wanted to get up and dance along.  I was quite impressed that he sat still for that long and although I enjoyed the show immensely, I found myself watching Boy O's face and enjoying his reactions even more.  Of course, he took full advantage of my good mood and somehow managed to coax a soda out of me with dinner, a candy bar at the intermission, a Billy Elliot t-shirt and ice cream on the way home.  I'm generally not this weak especially when it comes to soda, candy and my pocketbook-this kid knows how to work it. 

I don't remember too much from my first musical, but I do remember it, and I'm hoping he remembers this too (even if it is only because I had moments of nutritional weakness) because I would love to do dinner and a show again sometime.  

Saturday, April 16, 2011

To Infinity and Beyond, Part Two

Every once in a while I like to read and reflect on my first post written one year ago today. Several statements make me laugh and several bring tears to my eyes.  I laugh because no amount of preparation could have prepared us for the transition into parenthood.  I cry (good tears) because it still conveys exactly how I felt and brings back all the nervous excitement we experienced in the weeks before meeting our children.

The past twelve months have been a whirlwind to say the least.  Has it really been one year?  Did we dot our i's and cross our t's?  Absolutely-or should I say as much as two people possibly could without having a crystal ball.  Did we pack enough?  Too much.  Did we need the bugspray?  No.  Pampers or Huggies?  Honestly, what was I thinking?  What a silly thing to even worry about.  Sleep?  If I could speak to myself, one year younger, I would say:  Enjoy your last weekend of uninterrupted sleep for the next ten years or so. 

But that's what I like about reading it.  This is exactly where my mind was at this very moment one year ago.  I was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.  All the important things had been taken care of and I found myself focusing on the esoteric.  As we boarded the plane to Ethiopia I can still remember the feelings of relief almost surpassing my feelings of anticipation.  Just to finally begin the physical act of meeting our sons was like exhaling.

So here's to a new year, year two:  I've jumped off the high dive several times now, no one is yelling at me from below and the water has been just fine.  It won't be the last time and I've still got some things to learn but I'm thankful that I took the first leap, kept my eyes open and as I forgot to mention before, my best friend was there to hold my hand and jump with me.  To infinity and beyond indeed!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Playing Up

Have you ever had one of those moments?  You know, the one where you push hard for something to happen, it does, and then you question whether you did the right thing? 

It all began a couple of months ago after I had registered Boy O for the Spring soccer league.  At first it was just a confirmation e-mail and then it was, Dear Parents, your son's team does not have a coach, would you be willing to volunteer your time? I promptly ignored the e-mail assuming someone would be found.  Then the e-mails started to become more frequent and then desperate messages were left on our answering machine: Someone, ANYONE must volunteer, or your son will not get to play.... 

Now, I don't know the first thing about soccer and Daddy O has been super busy at work, so I did what any anally obsessive conscientious parent would do, I panicked.  I called to leave messages at a number no one seemed to answer, I sniped incessantly to my husband about how unfair this was, how Boy O would be so disappointed, how I had already lost the receipt for the new cleats we had bought and then I e-mailed the person who seemed to have the highest rank within the community soccer organization.  I may have bragged about my son a bit, how his indoor soccer league was undefeated, how it wasn't uncommon for him to score over 10 goals etc...I may have painted a picture for him that made Boy O look like an upcoming Pele...I may have said certain people could vouch for his abilities...

And then I got exactly what I asked for.  Boy O was switched to a team of kids that were a year and two years older than himself.  Oh goodness, what did I just do?  What did I get my son into?  Isn't the whole point of participating in activities at this age supposed to be to have fun?  Did I let my anally obsessive driven personality get the best of me?  And who gets to pay for it?  Not me, but my son, who just enjoys playing soccer.  He doesn't care who coaches, he doesn't care if it's anything formal-he just likes to kick a ball around.  I imagined boys twice his size on the team, I imagined his coach serious and harsh, and a bunch of other things I care not to go into...Lesson learned, next time I will just let it go and go with the flow.

As with most things I obsess over, I need not have worried.  His coach is super nice, extra supportive and clearly has an easy going personality but doesn't take too much crap.  His teammates are one to two years older, but they aren't six feet tall and haven't been playing for years. They are after all just six and seven years old  and while they may understand the game a bit better, they still need to work on their listening skills, still enjoy doing cartwheels and other gymnastic skills on the field and still just love to kick the ball around.  He's doing just fine and I think it's great that he can still play the game with kids who are a bit older.  He's not scoring ten + goals anymore, and I swear some of the kids on the other team they played during their first game must have been at least eight years old (or had been coached by David Beckham himself), but he had fun.  And that's what counts.

The destroyer's got destroyed, but it didn't stop Baby O from holding the sign and yelling, GO, GO, GO!

In his element and he did score one awesome goal in his first game:

Number 23 is Boy O-the same number as Michael Jordan.  Different sport, but I think it's a sign of good things to come!

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Breaking the Ice

I feel like I have so much to write and so little time.  I'll save it all for another week and just leave you with a gratuitous cute kid video: