Full Tilt

It is impossible for Clay to play any sport half-ass. It just isn't possible. He says, "April, I play full tilt!" Yes, he does, and because of his over zealous playing he is always sporting an injury.

He's had a sprained ankle, a crushed calf muscle and one time he went to church with a black eye and the imprint of the softball's threads on his face. He has a crooked pinkie finger, a scar on every possible facial feature and he requires an ankle brace when he plays basketball.

In other words, he's a mess.

Here's his latest battle wound. A mangled pinkie finger from playing softball. It looked like he slipped one of those fake fingers on that squirt water out of the nail when you show someone how gross your finger looks.

Or maybe, it just looked like he was saving a black olive on his pinkie to eat later.
Either way he didn't bother telling me about it until I reached out to hold his hand and he winced a bit. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Oh, it's just my finger, I hurt it trying to catch a ball. Ya know, cuz I play FULL TILT!"

Baseball in a small town...

We are in Kansas this weekend, where everything is smaller, slower and sweeter. Except little league baseball.

I went to my 12yo nephews game while my husband went to another small town to attend my 9yo and 10yo nephews' game.

When we met back up we were both saying things like this....

Did you see the dugouts they have? How about the big bleachers? Did you see the electronic scoreboard? They had an announcer's booth at the field aaaaand they play music between the innings.

Then my sister piped up, "Yeah, but you all get beer!"

And that's true, we do get beer from the concession stands in St. Louis, because you can't go anywhere without a little bit of Budweiser. But, I think the music between innings is better than Bud.

Whatcha know bout.....

This is Ike. I can't help but smile when he comes in the room, he's just so stinkin' sweet. When he smiles his whole face lights up the room, he has happy eyes and jolly cheeks and a teeny, tiny nose that I love to tweak. Other people love this kid too. He teachers are fond of him, other adults that know him are amazed at his docile behavior, kids flock to be by him because he'll play anything and not argue. He's just a fun, easy going little guy that I've marveled at since the day I pushed him into this world.

Oh, but then there's the teeth grinding, Lord, the teeth grinding. Even he laughs at how awful it is for all of us to listen to him sleep. Like fingernails scraping down a chalk board it grates every nerve in my body. Hopefully, it will stop when he starts loosing his teeth, God please let that be soon and let them all fall out at once. Surely, he won't grind his gums. Whatever worries, anxieties or fears he's working through at night must pay off because he sleeps as hard as a rock while he's gnashing those teeth and wakes up in the morning with a smile on his face.

And then there's the questions. Lots and lots of questions, all day long he interrogates me with all the knowledge he wants to soak up into his light bulb shaped head. The questions begin simple by asking what I know about a broad subject like, bugs, sharks, dinosaurs, rocks, airplanes, etc. and then if he's not satisfied with my answer, he'll ask, "What else?" as if I didn't give him my full breadth of knowledge on the subject. It goes something like this...

Mom, whatcha know bout sharks?
They live in the ocean, eat other fish, have a big fin that comes out of their back and give birth to their young.
What else?
They gobble up little boys with blond hair that ask too many questions.

When I'm tired of the questions I just answer, "I don't know". But, now he asks me, "Why don't you know?" "Because, Daddy knows all those answers, let's give him a call and you can ask him."

Unplugged

No TV in June!!!!

It's as much like coming off a drug as I could ever imagine. This is our fourth or fifth year of unplugging the boob-tube for the entire month of June.

Why? It's much too early in the month for me to rationally answer that question because, God help me, I just want to sit down at night and watch a movie!

Seriously, if you want my maternally mature answer then; because it's summer and we don't need to be sitting in front of a television numbing our brains to the sounds and sights that Hollywood demands that we embrace. Nor do my children need to sit on their butts and become robotic-like warriors of all things Playstation.

June 1st was the hardest day to get through, especially for Clay. Every time his phone rang he heard, "I'm soooo bored! I have nothing to do. When are you coming home?" The fifth time I called he asked, "Aren't you the one that started the whole no TV thing? Yes, you are! Now live with your decision and stop calling me!"

What do we do instead? We read, talk, play outside, watch the bats come out at night, garden, call the cousins, call the grandparents, beg for people to come over, whine a little, wrestle, nag, eat and dream. And my children learn how to play......without anything that plugs into a wall.

Join us if you want, tell me how it goes and what you do instead of watching the bright blue screen.

Gypsy Caravan

Every Memorial Day the St. Louis Symphony hosts the Gypsy Caravan. People come from all over to sell everything. I mean everything. One lady was selling socks while another was selling matchbox cars. There were antiques, tools, jewelry, iron art, bird houses, quilts and a whole lot of junk. For those with an empty stomach, there was a lot of food...and of course we had empty stomachs. So we ate chicken kabobs and drank frozen slushies and then my children were sucked in by the heavenly smell that comes from every carnival......funnel cakes.

This was Levi's first taste of a funnel cake and he was hooked. "Tis gooood, mmmmm, gooood, Mama, Mama, Mama goooood."

Having his cap impede his vision did not distract his hand to mouth coordination.

He did begin to weigh the fairness of four children sharing one funnel cake. Is that fair? Clay had to sit and gaze off into the distance to ponder this question.

But, then he realized he had saved lots of powdered sugar on his upper lip and cheeks that he could continue to savor throughout the day.

"Mama, Mama, tis goood, mmmm, good."

There's nothing like a hot, sweaty two year old coated in a sweet, sticky substance. Mmmmm tis gooooood.