Award Day

Award Day at the Christian Youth Center officially marks the end of the soccer season... Bittersweet. By the end of each sport's season, I'm ready to have my routine back. The one that doesn't involve running out twice a week for practices or games. Granted, twice a week is nothing for some moms with kids in park district or school sports, but it is plenty for me...

Grace did a 180 turn around throughout the season. Even the difference between this last game and the one before is amazing. She was all over that ball, and was one of the most active players on the team. This from the girl that used to stand in the middle of the field stroking her hair and watching the other girls run after the ball. Impressive.

Ellie was goalie for almost the entire game. She played her part well and wasn't afraid to grab at the ball when 3 other kids are kicking at it. I think that would kind of freak me out a bit.

The Green Giants... Seth and Noah's team. I enjoyed watching their team the most this year. Many of the team had been together in previous years and worked well together. Seth is quick and can see openings when he has the ball. Soccer is a good sport for him. Noah has also picked up on his soccer skills in the past year. He is more tall and lanky for his age, so dodging in and out of players is a bit harder for him, but he managed to be in the right place at the right time to put in some nice shots to the goal.

Caleb, number 8, played with the "big boys". The age range was 11 to 17. That's an age range of 6+ years, but also, during those years, the boys are growing and maturing fast. It makes a big difference in their skill level and physical ability. I had a harder time watching Caleb's game without zoning out. It seemed like the ball would just keep bouncing from one end of the field to the other. Boring. Caleb also sat out alot. Being one of the youngest on the team, he didn't get played as much as the big, long-legged, quick guys. ut as he does with most things, when he got the chance, he put in 100 percent.

This year's awards were a bit different because the CYC had just sent out letters the week before stating that it would no longer be supporting any of the sports programs. We've been involved in both baseball and soccer there for about 7 years and have met many friends that we see each season. It was different to think that we may not run into them again. A little bit sad and a bit sentimental. We're anxious to see what the future holds for our little super stars...

WipeOut!

We went to ICHE Family Camp in early September this year. The kids had been looking forward to it for months. We packed up our food, clothes, bikes and sleeping bags for a weekend of fun! ICHE (Illinois Christian Home Educators) rents the majority of Camp Timber-Lee in southern Wisconsin for the 300+ group of homeschooling families.

While I organized our sleeping arrangements in the cabin, the kids took off our their bikes to explore the camp. The little ones were with Paul, and the older guys rode around together. It was less than an hour after we checked in that I got a knock at the door. The daughter of a lady I recently met told me that Seth was hurt. Now if you know Seth, he can make a tiny bump seem like the end of the world, so I really didn't know what to expect. I stuck baby Selah onto my back in the baby carrier and followed her to see where Seth was.

As we were speed walking to find him, the girl kept glancing at me. It was almost like she was saying, "Well, aren't you going to run?" I got the hint and grabbed Selah's legs to hold her to me and started jogging. It took forever. I didn't realize how big the camp was. By the time I got to Seth, I was huffing from the hilly backroad jogging trip, and there was makeshift doctor examining Seth who was laying at the bottom of a very steep gravel road. Paul had come from the other direction and was trying to comfort Seth as the doc looked him over and questioned him.

Seth had nasty, deep scrapes all over his arms and legs. He also had a gouge right above his lip. After checking out the face gouge, we determined that he'd probably need stitches to close it up. Paul lifted him onto the golf cart, then into the car, and on to the nearest emergency room. After nearly 4 hours, he came back to camp looking something like a mummy (with all of the gauze wrappings), and two stitches in his upper lip.

The entire time he was being treated, he ignored the cuts and scrapes and was moaning and complaining about his upper inner thigh. At the time, there was nothing but a small red mark. He continued to walk like he'd just gotten off a bucking bronco for about 3 days. After we got home from the camp, he showed me his leg and described what he remembered. Apparently, he had found this "cool hill" to ride bikes down. He had the other kids wait at the top while he took the first ride. I think he got nervous about going to fast in the loose gravel and he tried to slow down with his brakes. What he didn't tell us when we were fixing up the bikes for the trip, was that he only had front brakes. His back brakes didn't work at all. Going too fast... Only front brakes... You get the picture. His front tire started to turn to the side and he ended up flying over the handle bars, jamming one of them into his upper thigh, and flew off the road skidding through the gravel. His bike ended up in the wooded area with the seat twisted and handlebars all bent up. Even after three days, my knees went weak when I saw the bruise on his thigh. It was as big as a dinner plate and such a deep purple, it made a bluberry look pale. Poor guy.

On the upside... I my first opportunity to take stitches out. I wouldn't have even considered it, but when the ER nurse said to make an appointment back in IL to get them removed, Paul asked about doing it ourselves. She commented that "if someone in the family was good at sewing..." I wouldn't say that I'm the best seamstress, but I've had enough practice at seam ripping... I worked my nerves through the first stitch. No sweat. Then, Seth, just for bragging rights, decided to take out the next one by himself. I held the mirror for him, and he accomplished his very first self-stitch removal. That's m' boy!

Sad day...

Today, after waving goodbye to my dad after his visit, I looked around for our puffy snowball of a puppy. I called for Minnie to no avail. She was growing fast and had outgrown our 3 year old Blue Heeler. Wondering what happened to her, I went inside to get a coat and shoes instead of slippers, then came back out to look for her. I called and called. I walked the entire yard looking. She's such a docile thing that you can call for a while and she'll take her time waking up, stretching, and coming out from under the porch, especially on such a damp, cold day. This time she didn't come. I started to get worried. We've had her for about 2 months now, always outside, and she's never left the yard. I was fairly certain she didn't run away. I started to wonder if someone saw how sweet she was and decided to steal her. I went inside and started making up a "missing puppy" sign to post by the street and sent the 3 older boys out to look in the meantime. Seth and Noah came in with no luck, but a while later, Caleb peeked in the door and said in a disbelieving tone, "I found her".

"Really? Where was she?" I was wondering what took so long for her to come and where she had gone. "She's out behind the pine tree in the field. She's dead."

What?? My heart sank. Caleb took me out to see her, and sure enough. There was our sweet, white, wet puppy. After Paul got home, he went out to see exactly what happened, and found that her back was broken. The only thing we can figure is that the coyote(s) killed her and drug her back behind the tree. Coyotes... the reason we got such a big dog in the first place. I hate those things. A year later and the tables would've been turned. I cried, and my kids comforted me. In my heart I know that it's no good to get attached to farm animals and, against my better judgement and to my dismay, my kids realize that.

Poor Little Guy

It's tough being the younger brother of two little girls.  You'd think his big brothers would put a stop to it, but when they're not looking, the girls get their chance to play dress up with Nathan....

Caleb's 12!

It seems like I'm putting a birthday blog on here all the time. I pretty much am. Nine people in the family makes for a lot of birthday blogs...

My little man is growin' up. Caleb is totally the typical "first-born" child. Super responsible, respectful, orderly, scheduled, helpful, and just a plain, good kid. The winds of change are coming. I can feel it. Not that he's turning bad, but that annoying boy stuff is coming out. He'll walk by a brother and whomp 'em on the arm for no reason, or maybe just play drums on his head. He might have a friendly teasing for the girls, and a bit of, "maybe you don't quite know everything, mom". He doesn't actually say it out loud, but just gives me that silent thoughtful look as he's evaluating something I've said. I'll be the first to admit that I don't know everything, but it's interesting to watch him start reasoning things out for himself.

Caleb has been in need of a bike this summer, and we had planned to do some biking at ICHE Family Camp the week after his birthday, so daddy did some searching on Craigslist. I'm sure you know by now, we buy ALOT of things second-hand. I'd rather spend my money on a gently-used, high-quality item than something mediocre for the same price. Paul found a nice Trek mountain bike for a great deal. Needless to say, Caleb was thrilled (although he still borrows Noah's beat-up bike for wheelies and stunt riding).

His little sisters still adore him, even with the little bit of teasing. I imagine next year I'll be writing that he's passed me up in height, but he's still waiting for that big growth spurt. His looks are starting to change. He's just starting to lose that "kid" look, and get a bit more mature look to him. He's a good one to be the first to go through the whole "growing up" thing. I'm going to enjoy the changes that will be evident in the next few years.