The middle child finally gets some attention
Paul is 14! Happy birthday, Paul-i-wog!
First we must attend to the birthday retrospective montage. Here is Paul with his classic "What??" look. He was only two months old and he had already developed it masterfully.
Paul likes to sleep--always has and still does. Sadly, the bucket does not fit his head anymore. For several months, Paul wore the bucket around. We called him "Bucket Head."
Now, a facial comparison. Here is Paul at age 2.
Paul at age 14.
And the reason this post is so late (can't believe it's already 2 p.m.)--this morning we had to go to St. Paul to get these:
We haven't had shoes on the shoebox castle lately, so I had to put up a picture of Paul's birthday present--his cross-country racing shoes. The spikes aren't in because, even though our carpet is old and yucky, I would feel very sorry for it if Paul tore it up with his spikes. These shoes are incredibly light. He also got another pair of running shoes, which are strictly for practice. Those ones don't have spikes--they look like regular athletic sneakers. Paul is all set for participating on the cross-country running team. He said that he thinks he'll be on the varsity squad, because two of his friends said he would, but I said, "Not so fast, buckaroo" (well, I didn't say those exact words) "It's nice to hope to be on varsity, but until the coach TELLS you to your face that you are on the varsity team, you just assume you'll be on JV, and you'll be happy about it." I love popping dream bubbles. I'm the Reality Fairy and I'm here to tell my children that as great as I think they are (or they think they are), the world won't agree. There will always be someone more talented, or faster, or whatever. I try to encourage practice and enjoyment of a sport or activity, but I want the kids to go in knowing they probably won't "win." That way, they enjoy the activity for the sake of participation, and we are all surprised and way more excited if they do happen to "win." Pessimism helps me get through the day.
I want a T-shirt that says "I'm the Reality Fairy" on it. On the back: "Pessimism helps me get through the day."
Plans for this evening for Paul's birthday: Attend baseball practice.
Last night, after the big boys' baseball game, the coach called for a practice for tonight and Paul came to me and said, "Coach scheduled a practice for tomorrow night. Can we go?" I said, "I suppose if that's the way you'd like to spend your birthday, you can." He said, "OK." Then he ran over to the coach and said, "My mom says that I can practice on my birthday." The kid is just plain weird. He showed absolutely no emotion one way or the other about having to attend a baseball practice on his birthday, and the way he told the coach sounded like he had gotten special permission to do something that wasn't normally allowed.
Speaking of baseball, I took some pictures at last night's game. This is a picture of Paul just about to hit a double.
This is Jimmy's batting stance.
And one Evans was hit with the ball. Guess which Evans got hit on the elbow?
....
....
Nope. You are wrong.
I got hit. Reason #1 to be chubby: When you are hit with a popped up foul ball on the elbow, it stings only a little, and no bruise appears. I was sitting behind the backstop to prevent being hit--it was a conscious decision to park my butt there for safety reasons--yet that ball flew up in the air, bounced once on the top of the backstop, and bonked me on the arm. I saw it coming, but trying to get out of the way was like trying to run in water--I couldn't move fast enough. Anyway, I received much sympathy from the other parents, who also advised me to really milk it when I got home. One parent said, "Seriously, you could get three days of servitude out of husband and kids with an 'injury' like that." We all had a good laugh. And seriously, my arm does not hurt, nor is there any mark that shows I was hit by a baseball.
One more picture:
Katie and her little green Dell. Katie is currently in Chicago for three days. She and two friends are going to see "Wicked." I am wicked jealous.
Eeek, this was a long post. 5 points to anyone who read all the way through this near-novel of a blog entry. Yikes!
First we must attend to the birthday retrospective montage. Here is Paul with his classic "What??" look. He was only two months old and he had already developed it masterfully.
Paul likes to sleep--always has and still does. Sadly, the bucket does not fit his head anymore. For several months, Paul wore the bucket around. We called him "Bucket Head."
Now, a facial comparison. Here is Paul at age 2.
Paul at age 14.
And the reason this post is so late (can't believe it's already 2 p.m.)--this morning we had to go to St. Paul to get these:
We haven't had shoes on the shoebox castle lately, so I had to put up a picture of Paul's birthday present--his cross-country racing shoes. The spikes aren't in because, even though our carpet is old and yucky, I would feel very sorry for it if Paul tore it up with his spikes. These shoes are incredibly light. He also got another pair of running shoes, which are strictly for practice. Those ones don't have spikes--they look like regular athletic sneakers. Paul is all set for participating on the cross-country running team. He said that he thinks he'll be on the varsity squad, because two of his friends said he would, but I said, "Not so fast, buckaroo" (well, I didn't say those exact words) "It's nice to hope to be on varsity, but until the coach TELLS you to your face that you are on the varsity team, you just assume you'll be on JV, and you'll be happy about it." I love popping dream bubbles. I'm the Reality Fairy and I'm here to tell my children that as great as I think they are (or they think they are), the world won't agree. There will always be someone more talented, or faster, or whatever. I try to encourage practice and enjoyment of a sport or activity, but I want the kids to go in knowing they probably won't "win." That way, they enjoy the activity for the sake of participation, and we are all surprised and way more excited if they do happen to "win." Pessimism helps me get through the day.I want a T-shirt that says "I'm the Reality Fairy" on it. On the back: "Pessimism helps me get through the day."
Plans for this evening for Paul's birthday: Attend baseball practice.
Last night, after the big boys' baseball game, the coach called for a practice for tonight and Paul came to me and said, "Coach scheduled a practice for tomorrow night. Can we go?" I said, "I suppose if that's the way you'd like to spend your birthday, you can." He said, "OK." Then he ran over to the coach and said, "My mom says that I can practice on my birthday." The kid is just plain weird. He showed absolutely no emotion one way or the other about having to attend a baseball practice on his birthday, and the way he told the coach sounded like he had gotten special permission to do something that wasn't normally allowed.
Speaking of baseball, I took some pictures at last night's game. This is a picture of Paul just about to hit a double.
This is Jimmy's batting stance.
And one Evans was hit with the ball. Guess which Evans got hit on the elbow?
....
....
Nope. You are wrong.
I got hit. Reason #1 to be chubby: When you are hit with a popped up foul ball on the elbow, it stings only a little, and no bruise appears. I was sitting behind the backstop to prevent being hit--it was a conscious decision to park my butt there for safety reasons--yet that ball flew up in the air, bounced once on the top of the backstop, and bonked me on the arm. I saw it coming, but trying to get out of the way was like trying to run in water--I couldn't move fast enough. Anyway, I received much sympathy from the other parents, who also advised me to really milk it when I got home. One parent said, "Seriously, you could get three days of servitude out of husband and kids with an 'injury' like that." We all had a good laugh. And seriously, my arm does not hurt, nor is there any mark that shows I was hit by a baseball.
One more picture:
Katie and her little green Dell. Katie is currently in Chicago for three days. She and two friends are going to see "Wicked." I am wicked jealous.Eeek, this was a long post. 5 points to anyone who read all the way through this near-novel of a blog entry. Yikes!
Comments
Paul's getting a cake, the crazy cake recipe! He wants m&ms and Reese's mini cups on it. EASY decorating for me! I will get a picture later for posting.
So how many points have you racked up so far reading my blog? Have you been keeping track? I hope so!