here they grow again

Our next door neighbors have two children that are a few years older than our brood. Their older son is an accomplished lacrosse player and ever since the day William saw him in the front yard tossing around a lacrosse ball, our son was hooked.



"What is that game he's playing?!" he excitedly asked me.

"Field hockey!" I excitedly replied, because I knew it was either lacrosse or field hockey and figured I had a 50% chance of being correct.



His enthusiasm about the game was only escalated once our neighbor kindly gave William his smaller sized lacrosse stick. So last year, we signed him up for a lacrosse league and twice a week, he met with a group of 8-year old boys and they were so adorable, running around the field, tripping over themselves, learning how to scoop the ball, cradle it, pass it, and all other types of lacrosse-y things.



Unlike other activities where he is excited to participate and then burns out after the first week or two, his enthusiasm for lacrosse has not yet waned. In fact, once he wrapped up the spring season last year, he's been asking nearly every month since, when does the next season begin?  



And so it was, Charlie signed William up for lacrosse again this year.  Although this year, his league is for boys 11 and under. This age range didn't alarm me too much, until I witnessed his first scrimmage last weekend...



For starters, the scrimmage - which occurred in a huge field 90 minutes from our house - started at 10 in the morning and lasted until 8 at night. We arrived at 10:30 AM and a mere four  hours later - we were desperate to leave.  Or rather, everyone except William, was desperate to leave.



William could have stayed there all day and would probably like to be there, still.



But there is only so much coloring and picnicking and story telling one can do. 



Now there are some BIG differences between lacrosse last year and lacrosse this year.  The most notable difference is that last year, it was just my little boy with a lacrosse stick and ball, and practices with similar sized children two times a week.  None of the kids really knew how to play and it was fine, because they were little. This year, our team who is still on the small side, didn't seem to know what was happening as the opposing team scored once, twice ... eight times in 20 minutes.



Last year, there were NO games, there were certainly NO marathon scrimmages that consume an entire weekend day.  And there definitely were NO big kids out on the field playing against my son that looked like they were twice his size and had enough facial hair to warrant a razor and can of Barbasol.  The physical difference between a nine year old and an eleven year old can be quite large, and some of these boys were big.



The other equally notable difference is that this year, the top half of our son's body is covered in protective pads and he wears a helmet and face mask atop his blonde head. In his mouth, he has a guard to protect his teeth.  When I first saw all the gear, it didn't really strike me that lacrosse is a CONTACT SPORT and the reason they have to wear all the padding and helmets and mouth gear, is because part of the game is whacking your opponents like a piñata with your lacrosse stick until they drop the ball or fall to the ground in agony.

And to think, I thought football was violent.



There was a boy, from the opposing team, who we saw fall to the ground in agony and it took everything in my power to not run out to his side and scoop him up like a newborn.  When his coach came out and after kneeling beside him for a couple minutes, helped him stand up and walk off the field, it surprised me that I had tears streaming down my cheeks.



And that is precisely why William is now signed up for ballet.*

Shhh, don't tell him.



*No, not really .... but I'm very, very tempted. 

the winter wild life

We've had an awesome winter for snow this year.  I'd estimate that we've received at least 24-inches of snow since January, which by our standards is a whole lot.



Since the beginning of the year, the children have only had one full week of school. Every other week ... all 10  of them ... have been truncated by either delayed starts due to snow, ice, or bitterly cold temperatures. Or, cancellations if the wintry conditions are severe enough.  Remarkably, the one week that they didn't miss any school, we received two snow storms - but the snow didn't start falling until 10 minutes AFTER the children arrived at school, and stopped by noon.



Last week, we received six inches of snow early Monday morning, which prompted the children to miss school on Monday - Tuesday - and have a two-hour delayed start on Wednesday.  In order to make up all of the missed "snow" days, the children will now be in school until nearly July.



We still love it, though.  Especially when we look out the window after a big snow storm and see the signs of winter wildlife such as a bright red cardinal perched in a tree...



Or deer tracks through the crisp snow.



Or perhaps best of all, our children that spend hours sledding down our steep back yard and once they get to the bottom, running up to do it again. Over and over and over - so many times - they're completely exhausted and can barely walk ...



So eventually just crawl up the hill, pushing their sled before them.



A winter storm, a steep hill, a canceled school day, a sled and siblings. Without a doubt, these are some of the key ingredients for the sweetest childhood (and parenting!) memories.

a conference call in real life

Last week, my boss shared this video clip with me because it so perfectly captures our lives in the current day "teleconference" business world:



This video clip is my reality EVERY DAY because I spend the majority of my working hours on conference calls that resemble exactly this. The fact that it is so hysterically funny to me is because it so incredibly accurate.

Happy Hour in Five!

springing forward

Charlie recently registered Carolyn and Elizabeth for a running program called, "Girls On The Run."  Their training started on Thursday, and they showed up - ready to go! - with their bright pink running shoes that we'd carefully picked out the weekend prior.  As part of the program, they've been registered to run a 5K race the third weekend of May. Which means, the rest of the family is registered, too.  And so it is, we were up yesterday with the dawn to run through our neighborhood.  And again today, we were up with the dawn to run again...



When we returned from our  run, we all dropped to the floor to stretch before we chugged big glasses of water. We then enjoyed a healthy and light breakfast and high-fived each other over all the awesome things that we'd accomplished before 9:00 AM!

But then I looked at my phone and realized it was actually 10 AM and we'd forgotten to "spring forward" an hour on our clocks. Fortunately, the endorphins of my run are so strong, the fact that we lost a full hour today is not getting me down ... too badly.  Although, I really think we should start a petition to eliminate Day Light Savings Time.  In my realm, anything that even subtly shifts the School Year schedule so that we inevitably sleep later in the morning, and subsequently have a later bed time for children at night, is more painful than shin splints.

the bunny slope drill sergeant

The last week of January, we took the family on our second-ever ski trip.



Because our school had teacher workdays on Thursday and Friday, we made the decision to take the children out of school on Tuesday and Wednesday and treat ourselves to the wonder that is mid-week skiing.  Since the temperatures had been colder than average, and there had been record amounts of snowfall in the region, we felt fully justified in our decision and believed the experience of staying at a ski-in, ski-out cabin, would be well worth the expense.



We arrived in Snowshoe, West Virginia on Tuesday evening. The temperature when we pulled up to our cabin was 10 degrees.  By Wednesday morning, when we ventured out to the slopes, the temperature was -8 below zero, with a windchill that lowered the temperature to -22.  But it was so beautiful and aside from the bone chilling cold that would freeze any exposed skin in less than 10 minutes, the conditions were truly magnificent.



When we arrived at the mountain, I vetoed Charlie's opinion that we enroll all four of our children in ski school, because it was $150 per child, per day. For as much as Charlie wanted to just ski with me, and not be slowed down by our little people who he didn't think could keep up with us, my opinion was that the triplets had ski school last year and since both Charlie and I have been skiing for 35 years a piece, my theory was that we can teach them and save ourselves $450 a day, or $1800 for the four days we were planning to be there.



But since Henry could hardly stand up on his skis, it made sense for us to enroll him.  So while Henry slid off with the rest of his tiny tot ski school class, Charlie and I took the triplets out on the mountain.  By the end of the first day, they were doing fantastic and able to keep up with us on all of the green (beginner) and several blue (advanced) runs.  Henry appeared to be doing well, too. At least every time we saw him - he was upright and smiling ... probably because the ski school offered his tiny tot class hot chocolate with marshmallow breaks every 30 minutes. Aside from the -22 degree temperatures, Wednesday was the perfect ski day.



When we arrived on the mountain Thursday morning, our beautifully desolate slopes that we'd experienced the day prior, were now populated with northern Virginia families that had also retreated to the mountains for the teacher workdays.  What we didn't anticipate was that there would be so many people, the ski school would be overbooked and there would be no space in the class for Henry.  So when we were told that he couldn't register, Charlie thought that our next best option would be to sign him up for snowboarding lessons. And yes, maybe, snowboarding would be a good option.  But I have this mental block that our children must know how to ski before they attempt snowboarding.  Why? Because I don't know how to snowboard, so if our children get stuck, there's nothing I can do to help them except tell them to walk down (or up) the mountain for assistance.



So when Charlie told me that he'd signed Henry up for snowboard lessons for Thursday through Saturday, to the tune of $450, but first we'd need to stand in line for over an hour to exchange his ski gear for snowboard gear ... it wasn't one of my most gracious moments. We are here to ski, not snowboard and I will not spend $450 on glorified babysitting after losing more than an hour of skiing because we have to first exchange his gear.  And that is how Charlie and I began what would shape up to be our most miserable day in skiing history.  We were both upset because skiing for a family of six - even without ski lessons - is an expensive endeavor.  So expensive, that we opted to pack our own food each day and had our children eat snacks in between runs.

A snowy tapas picnic, if you will.



And yet here we were, not able to really get our money's worth out of our trip, because we had Henry who could not ski, there was no space for him in ski school, and one of us would have to stay back with him, while the other one skied with the triplets and I'm trying my best not to think about how much it is costing us per minute, just standing there debating what to do.

WHAT TO DO?!



As a compromise, I took the triplets out skiing for an hour, and then I'd trade with Charlie, who would take the triplets skiing, while I'd stay with Henry on the bunny slope.  So on and so forth we'd do this, until just after lunch time, when William and Elizabeth decided to hang back with their father and Henry for a little longer to warm up while I took Carolyn skiing ... just the two of us.

As Carolyn and I were preparing to trade with Charlie,  I called him on our remote-controlled radio and told him I was on my way and to get ready to switch.  That's when he told me that William, Elizabeth and Henry (and I quote), "Had had enough skiing and were playing at the indoor playground for the rest of the day."

Playground?

They are playing at the PLAYGROUND when we have forked over fortune for lodging and ski equipment, and rental gear, and full-day lift tickets after "only" skiing for a total of three hours that day?  My response, upon hearing this news, made my prior ungracious moment, from earlier in the day, appear regal.  Worst of all, perhaps, was that we were on an RC radio, so anyone who was on the same channel heard me. Oh, sometimes, you can hide your anger from the world, and sometimes not.

I skied in a mad rush to the lodge, clop-clopped through the lodge in my ski boots, and upon seeing my three children who were having a grand time running around barefoot, bellowed THEY BETTER GET THEIR SKIS BACK ON AND GET OUTSIDE ON THE MOUNTAIN! 

Meanwhile, my husband shook his head in dismay and sarcastically said, "Excellent, Jen.  This is really fun for everyone, isn't it?"

Criticism?

Do I detect criticism?!

WOOF WOOF!  BARK BARK!

I don't remember everything that I said, but it was loud and angry and borne of the frustration that happens when you have expectations for the way something is supposed to go, and it isn't going that way at all.  My response was something along the lines of, "SKIING IS FUN, WE LOVE SKIING, AND WE DIDN'T JUST SPEND A SMALL FORTUNE SO OUR KIDS COULD PLAY IN A PLAYGROUND LIKE ONE AT MCDONALD'S SO THEY BETTER GET THEIR LITTLE SELVES WITH THEIR LITTLE SKIS BACK ON THE SLOPES BEFORE MY HEAD ROLLS CLEAR OFF MY HAPPY SHOULDERS!"

People stared.

People who tried not to stare craned their necks to eavesdrop.

One guy was nodding his head in agreement and laughing because maybe he could relate?

Charlie was afraid to leave me with Henry, and Henry was afraid to be left alone with me - but my auditory expression of frustration continued at an elevated acoustic range, and soon enough, Charlie and the triplets were on their skis and back out on the mountain. That's when I turned my attention to a tantruming Henry who told me he didn't want to ski anymore because he didn't like it and he couldn't do it and NO! NO! NO!



There is a psychological, birth order reason - I'm sure - Henry tends to give up easier than he should at certain activities.  When he suspects that he can't keep up with his siblings, rather than try and fail, he instead pulls the baby card.  But I absolutely knew that he could ski, and I knew that once he did it, he'd really love it. And I know these things, because I'm his mother.  Charlie likely knew it too, but he was worried he'd turn him off from skiing forever if he pushed him too hard. I don't believe it's possible to push kids too hard when it simply comes to trying something and at least, giving it your best shot.

So in a "beatings will continue until morale improves kind of way" I told Henry that he COULD do it, and I didn't want to hear any more of his defeatist attitude.  I told him to wipe the tears off his face before they froze and then I made him tell me, "I can do it!" over and over again, until he was nearly screaming at the top of his six-year-old lungs, "I CAN DO IT! I CAN DO IT!" 

After a few runs down the bunny slope with Henry wiping out left and right, I held him between my skis and had him lean on my poles.  Once we accomplished one successful run, I took him to the top of the mountain and told him we were going to ski the whole way to the bottom.  He was concerned. And rightly so, because skiing down a 2-mile stretch with a little chap between your skis isn't the easiest thing in the world to do and I was fully aware that my thoughts of what I can athletically do often eclipses the reality of my ability.  But I still had some adrenalin coursing through my veins from my outburst an hour earlier, so I pointed our four skis down hill, and off we went.

You can do it, Jen!

YOU CAN DO IT! 



Midway down our run, we (almost literally) bumped in to Charlie and the triplets. They were stunned to see us skiing down the mountain and as we went past, I gave Charlie a proud look that conveyed, "Yes, I know, I'm totally awesome, right? This is how you do it, Sweetie Pie!" and then I caught an edge and promptly fell down on top of Henry. Once we recovered, we skied the rest of the way to the bottom, receiving only some minor assistance from siblings on the flat terrain.



When we were within 200 yards of the lift, I pulled up my poles and had Henry ski the rest of the way down, practicing his pizza cut / snowplow stop, until he pulled along side Charlie at the chairlift.  We did another few runs with him skiing between my skis, and Charlie's skis, and the children were so thrilled that their little brother was out there skiing with them. That is how we wrapped up the day on Thursday.



On Friday, we set off - determined that we'd continue skiing with Henry, and teaching him ourselves. After we did two runs with him skiing and holding our poles, we set him loose to ski on his own. He made it down every run, turning, stopping and soon hitting jumps along the side of the runs like a pint-sized pole-less skiing wonder. All the while he'd be crouched with his arms on his hips, loudly singing, "DA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA BATMAN!"



By Saturday, he was nearly leading the charge down the hills and when I jokingly asked him if he'd had enough and wanted to take off his skis and go play at the indoor playground for the rest of the day, he hollered, "WHAT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I LOVE SKIING AND WANT TO DO THIS EVERY SINGLE DAY!"

It made my heart soar because he absolutely meant it...



And that's precisely how I feel, too!

sweet, sweet music

All three of our third graders are learning to play the recorder in school...



So a scene like this around our dinner table has become commonplace.



After three months, I'm not sure if the children are vastly improved ...





Or if I'm just really accustomed to the sound of squeaking melody.

100 days

Someone had a big celebration at school today and made a fun hat to commemorate the event. The little boy who was repeatedly dismissed from the church nursery as a toddler, and expelled from 3-year old preschool less than one week in, is now blossoming before our eyes.

In the 100 days since his elementary school education has begun, Henry's gone from receiving "Think Sheets" every week, to receiving almost daily stickers for excellent behavior. He is learning to read, count by 10's, and recognize US Presidents.  I've been told by countless mothers that their daughters, Henry's peers, have big crushes on him because he is so sweet, and so kind, and his eyes.

Oh, those big blue eyes!

He still has the propensity to drive us crazy at home, especially when he detonates after being in close proximity to Elizabeth (who seems to be honing her knack for pushing ALL the wrong buttons repeatedly), but we're heading in the right direction and for that we are so happy and so proud.

AND SO GRATEFUL.  

the blues brothers (and sister)

We got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes (not really), it's (almost) dark … and we're wearing sunglasses...  

We're on a mission from God. 

Now we just have to figure out what exactly that mission is. 

let it snow!

On Wednesday night, we went to sleep with a gentle snow falling outside.  When we woke up on Thursday morning, there was 13-inches of beautiful snow on our stoop and the snow was still falling hard to the tune of more than 1-inch per hour.  Schools were canceled, the Federal Government and airports were closed, and life came to a screeching halt while everyone worked to dig themselves out from Mother Nature's gift of winter magic.  (Our planter lights continued to work despite the fact they were submerged under snow...)



By the time we went outside to sell Girl Scout cookies to all our neighbors who were trapped inside and had No Where To Run, No Where To Hide, we were trudging through nearly a foot and a half of snow.  Here are some photos of our day:

Charlie, shoveling snow off our front steps and flipping it on to his unsuspecting daughter.



Carolyn, trudging through snow with me to sell Girl Scout cookies.



William trudging through snow with us.



Henry, who could trudge no more.  It's exhausting to walk when you're six-years-old through heavy snow that nearly comes up to your hips.



Louie, bounding through the snow.



After running around most of the day Thursday, he's been asleep for three days.



A picture of our neighbor that Carolyn apparently shot with my camera while we were selling Girl Scout cookies (I know I certainly didn't take this picture!)



The plow that came down the street immediately after we returned home from walking a mile in knee-deep snow. Excellent timing since we were on the quest for a major cardio workout!



Building a snowman.



The snow was so deep, the children couldn't even sled on it without their sled sinking. So I grabbed a sled and laboriously made a course that I then carefully sloped and built up on either side with walls so it resembles the bobsled track of the Olympics.  By Friday morning, this track was so slick it would carry the screaming rider all the way to the bank of the creek. I'm sure I burned more calories making that track, and hiking up and down the hill most of the day, than I burned when I ran a marathon in 2009.



The bank of the creek.  I stood here for a long time, soaking in this view while the snow continued to gently fall and I thought about how perfectly awesome this moment in time is, and how I needed to sear it in to my memory to last forever.



Ammunition.



Building an igloo.



Smiles upon hearing the news that school would be canceled on Friday, too. (Yes cousin Michael, the coat I'm wearing is the one you outgrew and sent to our children. But until they're big enough to wear it - it's been added to my wardrobe. Rock it, Spyder!)



Charlie, on Thursday night, when the snow started to fall again and we accumulated another two-inches before Friday morning.  Notice he's now wearing long pants...



Although his shoes are missing.  So too is part of his mind, says his easily chilled wife who was wearing snow pants, wool socks, and boots that were embedded with heat warmers.

I love the snow, though ... and so long as you have the correct gear and attitude, wish we could get another foot. Or four.

there are no accidents

I'm supposed to be in Lake Tahoe this week, at the annual meeting for our business group.

Instead, I'm at home. I made the decision to miss this meeting on Sunday, when Henry, who has been dealing with an infection of the relatively benign, but very troublesome molluscum contagiosum for the past 18-months, developed some frightening complications from a secondary infection over the weekend.  Ultimately, I decided that at this moment in time, my little one needed me more than my business group needed me. Even if my business group consists of some of my dearest friends, and they are meeting in one of the most beautiful places in the United States, and going on what will be an amazing snowshoeing expedition as part of a team building event. On Monday, I had Henry in to see a pediatric dermatologist and by this morning, he was feeling better.

(So, too, was my heart!)

I had no idea when I canceled my trip that a few days later, tonight, we'd be bracing for what is supposed to be the largest snowstorm since Snowmageddon in February of 2010.  See, we didn't move to northern Virginia until July of 2010, so we completely missed the awesome snowstorms that pummeled the region earlier that year.  As I've written about every winter since we've moved here - we feel like we are constantly robbed of the snowstorms that cruelly track north, south and just a gnat's eyelash to the west of us.  This year has been different though. There have been some FANTASTIC snowstorms that have caused offices and schools to close, and our children to rejoice! in sledding and snowman making. Ah, but I've missed every one of those storms because of my frequent travel.

But not tonight!

Tonight, I am here! 

With four (relatively) healthy children, a refrigerator full of food, a woodpile stocked to the top, candles and matches, flashlights and batteries, games galore, schools that have been preempteively canceled, and enough arts and crafts projects to last us through Easter ... we are ready.    

(My southern California-blooded husband was just telling me that he is tired of wearing pants every day and misses wearing shorts. With temperatures in the 20's and 10-inches of snow expected, I suspect he might be missing them for a bit longer, yet.) 



Yes, we are ready. AND WE ARE SO, SO EXCITED!