Party Pooped

James had a party yesterday. Kind of an end-of-the-school-year thing. So I had seven or eight boys over
what, am I supposed to have an exact count of how many kids I'm responsible for or something?
all of whom are 15 - 16 years old. Not including my own two 16 yr old boys and my nearly 12 yr old son.

In addition, Rosie had a couple girls over. So we had my three 13 yr old girls, plus another two. Said girls are all blossoming, and I'm not just talkin' about their personalities.
Said girls were all in two piece bathing suits of varying degrees of skin exposure.

Do the math. (10) 15 - 16 yr old boys, + (5) 13 yr old girls. Bathing suits. Pool.
Equals.

A lot of playing musical chairs for me.

There were times they were all in together, and I was pretty much right there poolside with an eagle eye.
Other times we used the pool by turns. Especially once the sun went down and they decided night swimming sounded like fun. And the hot tub.

Separate but equal, that's my motto.

You watch a movie, you go in the pool.
You go play football, you go in the pool.
You eat some pizza, you go in the pool.

And on and on like this most of the afternoon and evening.

I'm pooped.

I'm party pooped.

And I know it's only going to get worse over the next couple of years when the boys are 18 (and 14) and the girls are 15.

Yikes.

I'm gonna needs me some shotgun.

This Wrong Will Be Righted

Eyes on the ball.
Side step left.
Feel the burn from the scraped knee.
Feel the sweat running down.
Run to the right.
Yell out instructions.
Flex fingers inside the padded gloves.
Crouch low.
Dive and catch the ball, getting run over in the process.

Save the game!



Such is the life of a soccer goalie.

My daughter is a soccer goalie. Has been since partway through her first season on the travel team she joined when she was nine years old. A few games into that fall season, it was discovered she had quite the talent for it.

She was a natural.

And she loved it. Goal tending was her life and she couldn't get enough. She was at every practice and every game. Being the only keeper for the team meant she got a lot of game time. No subs.

At her first tournament she was honored to be named the team's MVP.

A few seasons later she was asked for by name to guest play for a different club at a tournament. They recognized her talent and wanted her to lend them a hand. Being the good sport that she is, she played for this team and didn't hold back, diving, leaping, catching, punting, swatting game after game till she was exhausted.

I kind of felt like a celebrity's Mom at that game, when other parents would come up to me and ask, "Are you the goalie's Mom? What's HER deal? She's amazing!"
I'm sure I was blushing.

Why am I telling you all this? Just to brag on my daughter? Partly, I'll admit it.

But mostly to illustrate how mixed up some adults can be.

See, my daughter was just cut from her team. Cut after playing for them for 10 seasons.
Did her skill level drop? Was there a flood of girls at tryouts for this team that Rosie simply couldn't compete with?
No. Sadly, she was cut because she has the misfortune of being the daughter of a Mom who would speak out against the board and the coaches when they were in the wrong about 6 months or so back.

Was she the only one cut?
No again. There were four other girls that got cut. All children of parents who dared to speak up against a wrong. All children, whom I have been told by another parent, were among the best players on the team.

Surely this team must make cuts all the time. Isnt' that just part of being on a travel soccer team?
Once again, no. In the history of our team, they've never cut any players but once. That year, about a year ago, there were record numbers of girls trying out for our team. Two of our most junior girls were cut, and two very strong players were added.

This year's tryouts? The only girls I saw were the ones already on our team, plus a couple more who had guest-played with us.

And yet, in the form letter e-mail we received as notification of the cut, it was stated she was cut b/c there were many more girls trying out than were spots available. Then it was suggested she might be able to find a nice rec-level team to join if she still wished to play soccer.

I was stunned.
I was hurt.
I was outraged.

My daughter is actually taking this way better than I am.

I have asked questions of the board president. Questions he has refused to answer.

I have pored through the by-laws of the organization, but have found nothing to support the president's claim that the information I have asked for cannot be released publicly.

I have asked questions of the coach, and the coaching director, only to be referred right back to the president.

I don't know if I've ever encountered another human that has acted so despicably. To use 12 and 13 year old girls as pawns in his ridiculous game of vengeance leaves me feeling sick to my stomach.

Oh there are worse things in the world, to be sure. But for him to hold himself up as a pillar of the community, someone who is doing good deeds "for the children" when in fact he is using those very children to spite their parents is just wrong on so many levels. He has manipulated and lied and hurt children when he is supposed to be supporting them. Lifting them up to the world of sports, passing on a love and learning of the game and building their confidence.

Instead he has left them feeling like they have done something wrong. Like they weren't good enough.

Girls, let me tell you right now. You ARE good enough. You're "among the best". You have done nothing wrong. You have played the game honorably and handled this situation with a grace far beyond your years.

And let me also tell you. I am not going to handle myself with the same degree of grace. I am in Mama Bear mode.

And I am going to

Take.
Him.
DOWN.





Click the button to give me strength for the fight.

Farm Friday - Sex Change

I know it hasn't yet been a month since my last chicken update, but it would appear I have some news on that front.

It seems our Golden-laced Polish is perhaps not a hen, but a rooster.

Clearly an error was made in the sexing and shipping dept, b/c I did not order any roosters. I wanted only hens in my henhouse.

I did not want crowing before daybreak.
I did not want children pushing away their plates of eggs for fear they might be eating a could've-been-baby chick.
I did not want a Demon Bird From Hell chasing and ankle-pecking.

But the last week or so I'd been hearing new sounds coming from the Chick Shack. Something akin to a teenage boy saying "Heyy. HEYYYY!" only with a distinct stalling car component to the sound.

This morning, when I had finished feeding and watering them, I looked at Tizzy. I noticed her headdress seemed more pronounced. Her neck feathers were more mane-like. Her tail feathers were carried high above her back in contrast to those of her peers.

And then it happened.

She stuck her neck out, stretched her back long, and screeched out

"Cock-a-doodle-doooooooo"

only still with a very marked teenaged boy quality to it. Imagine Shaggy imitating a rooster. That's it.

So it would seem we need to change her - I mean his - name. And I'll need your help. Here are your choices, and of course, feel free to suggest others:



David Bowie
You've gotta admit, there's a striking resemblance.













Big Daddy
My grandfather's name (may he rest in peace). One of my hens is named Big Mama (after my grandmother, naturally, may she rest in peace), so it would seem only fitting to name the only roo for her husband.






















Chas Bono
In light of recent headlines that Sonny and Cher's daughter Chastity chose to undergo a sex change to become Chas Bono, I thought this might make a good choice. And let's face it, how many people can claim to have a rooster named Chas Bono? Hmmm? Anyone?















??????

















So whaddya think, folks? Help me name my gender-confused rooster/hen.









Don't be confused. Just click the button and you've voted.




Picture of Chas Bono from Google images
http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTKAuFcU2MseHhNIeeQhdi5hKlN7bKG-BDvJ2hyQCBVnXV4zSnR

Throttle Mode

Poor Bella has had a bad cavity for a while now.
Saw the dentist, who recommended extraction.
Referred us to an oral surgeon who takes our insurance.
Appt made, antibiotics begun one week before the appointment.
Motrin dispensed daily, plus lots of hugs and kisses, to help ease the pain.

Finally the day arrived (yesterday) for the appt and Bella had mixed feelings: trepidatious about undergoing a major dental procedure, thrilled at the prospect of the pain coming to an end.

Picked her up from school and drove nearly an hour out there.

Waited over an hour past her appt time.

She was good as gold, my little angel.

She was finally brought back, had an x-ray taken, and the dentist came in to talk with us briefly. Never looked in her mouth, asked whether we would rather go with a local or general anesthesia. We discussed that for maybe 30 seconds and he sent us right back into the waiting room again.

I was all like, 'what the....?'

Then the receptionist began to ask me when I would like to bring her back.

"Bring her back...?"

"Yes, for the procedure."

"But that's what we're here for today."

"Well, he can't do it now. It's already 5:19."

"What does that have to do with anything? Our appt time was 4:00. And besides which, we've been here for over an hour and we live an hour away."

"I'm sorry, it's too late. He can't do it now. You'll have to bring her back another time. You'll have to understand that's the nature of surgery, you run into unforseen circumstances and it throws the schedule off."

Unforseen circumstances my A**.

So now we've wasted four hours of our day, she's taken a week's worth of antibiotics for nothing, and she's still in pain. Took all the saints in heaven to tie my hands behind my back and clamp my teeth down on my tongue to not rip her and the "oral surgeon" a new one. I had some creative ideas of what I'd like to do with some of the instruments I saw when we were in the exam room.


Grrrrr. Insurance be damned, I know a GOOD oral surgeon a lot closer to home that I'll be calling today.






Click to vote. Or I may get out the tools....

Wordless Wednesday

Dog Days



Out for our morning stroll.






Seems someone can't quite keep up with the big dogs yet.







My blog is getting so many hits lately. Like, almost record numbers. Thanks for visiting! Hope you likey!
But my ranking is slipping. Down to #18 (19 yesterday), yikes! Please help get me back up to 15. Or what the hay, take me into the top 10. Wouldn't that be, in the words of my young teens, AWESOME? So click to vote please.

Thank you.

So much for wordless Wednesday.