A Soccer Mom?
Since we’ve moved in with my parents, Lil C has been enjoying her outdoor time. She has become a huge fan of kicking a soccer ball around the yard and she’s really quite amazing, considering that she’s only going to turn three on Saturday (Yes, this Saturday. Let’s not talk about it too much or I will cry. My BABY is turning THREE!).
I did some digging and found a soccer program for 3-6 year olds at a local fitness center and took her for a test drive class week. In preparation for her first big night of soccer, we bought her the tiniest little shin guards ever and a size 3 soccer ball. Being a field hockey girl myself, I had no clue that there even were different sizes.
We arrived at the fitness center and Lil C, dressed in her adorable soccer gear, went out onto the turf field. There were parents milling around with their kids and I was uncertain who the coach was since no one approached us at all. After a few minutes, the coach blew the whistle and called the kids into a huddle. Lil C wasn’t really interested in hanging out with the other kids and instead stood leaning all of her bodyweight into my legs.
Soon the coach started working on "skills." I should mention here that when I inquired about the program, I was told that they divide kids up into smaller age groups once there and that they play "fun little games" to get them to learn the game. The coach began by telling them to work on toe touches. As he demonstrated, I looked at my Mom, who had come along to watch, absolutely dumbstruck. There was no way I could even do toe touches the way he was doing them. Little kids were falling all over the place. The coach seemed to levitate above the ball rotating one foot to the next and Lil C just looked at me like "not gonna happen."
After that he told them to put the ball on the inside of their feet and kick the ball from the inside of one foot to the other. I felt like asking him if he realized that small children don’t have much extra room between their feet and legs once you put a soccer ball in between them. I tried to help Lil C but it was hopeless. She’s just not big enough to even begin to learn that skill. It would be like teaching a 1-year old how to play the piano or the guitar. Your hands need to be a certain size to do that, and for soccer, your legs need to be longer than 16 inches.
Soon the kids were able to kick the ball down the field, but Lil C kicked the ball in the opposite direction. She was running around like a little star but wasn’t following the coach’s directions and honestly, I couldn’t blame her.
The coach then set up passing drills. No, I’m not kidding. He placed two cones half way up the field and created two lines of kids. He would toss the ball down the field and he expected the kids to pass down the field and score. Lil C decided to go to the other end of the field and kick the ball around with daddy. The coach did not once speak to her or even notice that she was there.
Then he announced that they were going to play a "game." He haphazardly divided kids into groups and told half to head one direction and the other half to score at the other end. What happened next was nothing short of complete and total mayhem.
The big kids were trampling the little kids. There were at least four children crying. One had been knocked down by the bigger kids and subsequently stepped on by other kids. He was miserable but his parents kept sending him out for more. The coach never even looked at him, let alone ask him if he was o.k.
Several parents were grabbing their kids and leaving. The coach still didn’t notice that there was a problem. As the ball approached the side where we were standing, Lil C acted as if she wanted to kick the ball, but we quickly realized this was a bad idea as a swarm of bigger boys came running at her. I have no doubt they would have trampled her too. She was easily the tiniest one there.
So, we picked her up and left, but not before demanding our money back. I told the owner that I was completely misled as to what would happen in the class, and that he better watch because he’s going to have multiple injuries from the way that the "game" was being conducted. He tried to weasel his way out of giving our money back, but ended up giving it back because we wouldn’t back down.
He said he would talk to the "coach" and give me a call Monday morning to let me know what happened and if maybe he was without an assistant or something, which would explain why it was complete and total chaos. It’s Wednesday, and I have yet to receive a call.
Yesterday, I signed Lil C up with a different soccer program. The director of the program teachers it herself and says that she teaches the kids to pretend the soccer balls are puppies. Then, they take their "puppies" down the soccer field to "Grandma’s house" (aka the goal). I think this sounds much more three-year old friendly and we’re excited to see how she does in an environment where she doesn’t have to "bend it like Beckham" instantly.
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A Visit from the Tooth Fairy. . . Finally
Big I has had shark teeth and extremely loose teeth for months. Those suckers just didn’t want to come out. Everything changed tonight. Because I was concerned about her top front tooth being swallowed during the night, I encouraged her to really get wiggling. We even tried to tie some dental floss around it to pull that thing out. She kept laughing so that didn’t work.
As my Mom, my Dad, Lil C and I all encouraged her in front of the hallway mirror, the tooth got even more loose; but after 30 minutes of intense wiggling, there was still nothing tooth fairy worthy. I went downstairs and Mr. BBM was supposed to be putting the girls to bed, when he came downstairs with an ecstatic toothless girl. It finally came out.
She went from indescribable joy to complete depression in only minutes. The magnitude of the tooth fairy actually taking her tooth was just too much for her. She was reduced to tears.
We managed to find our tooth fairy kit, and we washed the tooth and placed it in the little pocket on the teeny tiny pillow. As she drifted off to sleep upstairs, having come to grips with the tooth fairy and her "mission," the actual fairy got to work.
The "tooth fairy" typed up a teeny tiny letter in 6 pt. font telling Big I how exciting it is to get a new client, and how she needs to continue taking good care of her beautiful teeth. The fairy then printed out a certificate and rolled up the teeny tiny letter into a little scroll, complete with $10 (I know people, I know, but you have to remember that we are living with "Mom-Mom" and "Pop-Pop" and this was a big and long awaited event. We’ll certainly be letting Big I know in the morning that the tooth fairy doesn’t usually leave such large bills). Because the "tooth fairy" has mad creativity skills, she tied that little scroll up with mint dental floss. Was that not a stroke of genius? I mean, really. This "tooth fairy" is one with-it gal.
Something tells me it’s not going to be a problem waking Big I up for school tomorrow morning. Something tells me we’ll be seeing a big toothless grin.
To Paint or Not to Paint
This morning our realtor suggested once again, that we paint the girls’ rooms. We poured our hearts and souls into those rooms and it kills me to even think about it. When he asked me what my objection was, I told him that paint is an easy fix for a new buyer, and that I don’t want to traumatize my girls. Moving is traumatic enough. He said he wants to help us remove every possible objection. Most people who are looking at our house are young professionals or older people looking for a house where they don’t have to mow the lawn. Neither of these demographics wants themed kids rooms (although no one has yet complained about the rooms).
I spent days choosing the exact colors I wanted to use. I hand made that ocean stencil, painstakingly added those little jumping dolphins, glued seashells onto the curtain rod and spent hours lounging on the floor as Mr. BBM used glaze paint to create clouds on the walls and vaulted ceilings. Some of them look like plain old clouds, but if you look closely you can see that some of them are shaped like seahorses, dolphins and starfish.
We painted this room when I was about seven months pregnant. It was a hot summer weekend and Mr. BBM and I spent the entire weekend working on it. When all was said and done, we added Big I’s baby furniture, bought bright-colored sea creatures to hang on the walls and put it all together.
Lil C loves her ocean room. She likes to pretend she’s Ariel in there. I realized today though, that it may be me who loves that room the most.
When we first moved in, it was a playroom/guest room. As 14 months of trying to have another baby went unanswered, it became this room that was supposed to be and just wasn’t. And then I took that pregnancy test and our Lil C and this ocean room became a reality.
Maybe painting it white is just the first step in letting go of this house that is our first real family home. Letting go of a place that gave you so many fabulous memories is really difficult to do. It may just be a gallon or two of paint, but it’s what that room represents that is the most difficult to just paint over. If we do decide to paint it, there will be tears and I’m betting that they’ll be mine.
Seven going on 17
Yesterday, the day before Big I’s official 7th birthday, she curled up on the chair with her pen and notebook and told me there was a page in there that she didn’t want me to see.
"Why not?" I asked her. She’s forever showing me something new in her notebook.
"I wrote something about this boy," she said. "I think I’m fallin’ in love with him."
Flustered, I asked her for a name. She hesitated. She really didn’t want to tell me. I knew it could only last so long though. Thirty seconds later, she volunteered that he’s a new boy in her school and he’s in her grade (Thank God).
I asked her what was so special about him and she responded, "I don’t know. There’s just something about him Mommy."
I informed her that she can’t talk about boys and in the same sentence say "Mommy." I prefer that she loses the boy talk to be quite honest. I asked her if she just meant that they were friends and she said, "Nope, I think I’m gonna marry him someday."
Did she turn seven today or 17, because I don’t think I can tell the two apart?
Happy Birthday Big I, but please stay little for just a little while longer. Please?
To Become Her for Just One Day
My daughter came home from school today with a mark on her leg from where another child had kicked her. Through sweatpants, there was a little brush burn on her shin. I asked her what happened and she said that she walked up to this little girl, said "hi" and the girl kicked her. Big I asked the girl why she kicked her and the girl wouldn’t answer. She then proceeded to chase her around the playground, trying to kick her again.
(Deep breath.)
(One more.)
(Deep breath.)
She told her teacher and the teacher told her to go and try to work it out with the little punter. She didn’t get it worked out. I have let things go throughout the year and a half that Big I has been in school. I didn’t call when the group of brats was laughing at her last year. I didn’t call when this same little girl was stealing her snack and her crayons daily. I told her how to handle it and let her handle it herself. She always seemed willing to fight her own battles when it came to the previous incidents.
However, when another child leaves a mark on my kid???? Oh NO she DIDN’T!
I immediately called the school and asked to speak to the teacher. I told her what happened and that I was upset about it. I was livid and I think she knew it. She went to talk to the kicker who was still at school and called me back.
Meanwhile, this is me to Big I: "The next time that kid even looks like she’s going to touch you, you tell her that if she kicks you, then you are going to kick her back. And when you kick her, you drop her, Big I. And if you get in trouble at school, know that Mommy will go in there and raise hell because you have a right to defend yourself, and . . . "
So the phone rings. The punter has to sit inside for four recesses. She’s also going to see the principal tomorrow, and she’s going to apologize. Apparently the whole incident had nothing to do with Big I. The girl was frustrated with someone else so she took it out on an easy target.
I am tired of my kid being the easy target for everyone, just because she’s nice. Even the teacher said it’s because Big I is a "kind and gentle soul."
Fast forward a few hours to Big I’s karate class. I talked to her teacher (also a dad of several little ones) and told him what happened. They then spent much of the class working on playground situations, speaking up, yelling "KNOCK IT OFF" or "STOP IT" as loud and as mean as they could. They worked on using some aggression by pushing someone’s hands away or pushing someone back and yelling at the same time.
Big I started out smiling and tentatively saying "stop it." By the end of the class, she was yelling and only popping an occasional smirk. I’m going to have Mr. BBM work on some things with Big I, and have her role play some situations. She has to understand that she DOES NOT have to be nice to someone who’s not nice to her. It was great that karate class tonight reinforced sticking-up-for-yourself behavior. Now we just have to work on pulling out her inner warrior.
In the meantime, I really need to figure out some way that I could embody Big I for just one day. . .
Just one day is all I would need. . .
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