Let the games begin!

It's started. The dreaded soccer season. See, I love soccer. I didn't play it growing up, except for a few times with some friends at the park near out house. Except I remember playing with a tennis ball. And I DO remember scoring a lot with that little ball. My sophomore year of high school we had moved to Germany. I had been on the cross-country team which rolled over to the basketball season. When that was over, I planned to be on the track team, but just got curious about soccer. I figured I couldn't play. I heard that soccer players sprint 9 miles in games and I knew I couldn't SPRINT 9 miles. Then I saw a chubby girl with her cleats, heading to try outs. I thought, "ummm, I KNOW I can run more than she can!" So that day I joined a group of girls trying out for the soccer team. I scored that day, too. The Varsity coach wanted me on her team. I told the JV coach, "I know nothing about soccer. I don't want to play Varsity." That was a good move on my part. I played every game, every minute, on the JV team that season. At the end of the season I joined the Varsity team for the end of the year tournament. I sat bench the whole time. Thank goodness I didn't play Varsity. I'd have had ZERO time on the field during games. Anyway, thus began my passion for soccer. I had wished I had the "experience" that some of my team mates had, I felt I'd have been a much better player had I begun as a 6 year old whether than a 16 year old, but it was all good. I ate the sport up and finally, IT spit me out in 1997 when I obliterated my knee during a pick up game at BYU. I figure I'll just be back on the soccer fields come the millenium. ANYWAYS! My kids LOVE the sport. I'm an official "soccer mom." Whatever that really means. All my kids started in preschool and have played ever since. They're not super human good (OK, the boys aren't. They hold their own, but don't stand out.) My girls on the other hand. They're awesome. Anyways, this is a lot of bragging writing for what I really meant by this post. Just saying that although the season is crazy with 5 kids playing on 5 different teams, I'm up for the job. Because I love what they're doing. I had an interesting conversation today with a friend of mine. We were talking about "pushing" our kids in sports. She said that it seemed to her, EVERYONE was pushing their kids on the fields. Signing them up for expensive camps, putting them in tournaments cities away, emptying their wallets to do so. And these kids weren't even 10! She said she didn't agree with it, but maybe that was the wrong attitude? That maybe she needed to push her kids, expose them to these "opportunities" to make them better players. I told her I agreed with her, end of story. In Brazil you see kids of all ages, working MAGIC with "soccer balls" aka oranges, balled up socks, etc. There were no camps for these kids. Just a ball and a bunch of spirit. And believe you me: put a team of 10 year old soccer playing Brazillian kids against a similar team of Americans and hate to say it, I'm putting ALL my money on the Brazillian kids. Heck, put these same kids in the field with a high school team from America. I'm still betting on the Brazillians!! I guess the point I'm making here is I feel the best way to instill a sport or the love of sports into our children is to simply let the children enjoy it. Toss them a ball and let them play. Resist the urge to live our failed Olympian lives through them. Do we care so much what people think of us as parents that we put the pressure on our children so that our children, not us, can show our friends what great people we are? Do we really just want the "Joneses" to see how amazing we are as our children sail across soccer fields and over basketball courts? I mean cuz really, it's OUR DNA that's exposed when they do the amazing things they do. And then come high school, they're burnt out and want nothing to do with the sport. I may be sounding super hypocritical here because our family has pure and utter chaos thanks to sports. Soccer, swim team, basketball. Yes, we do a lot of sports. I think it's so important. Sports does things for kids that nothing else can. On all levels. Cardio, self-esteem, goal orientation, dealing with losing, being gracious with wins. Team work, sense of belonging. Gosh, the list goes on forever. Anyways. Our season has started. It's crazy. But it's a good crazy. I can tell because so far, at the end of every practice or game, my kid comes off the field in a contented mood. If that ever changes, I'll have to do some re-evaluating.

My gut tells me ...

Oh my gosh, I have a gut that won't stop!! How do I get rid of it?! OK, I'm not really looking for advice. I do know how to get rid of guts, but she's telling me that she loves me and wants to stick around. And my kids love my gut. They slap it, smash their faces into it, my babies have all tried to nurse from it. They even knead it and say they're making pie crust.

Our RAT'S $44 vet bill

The other night my son comes to me and by the look on his face, I assume his left arm had been ripped off of him and he couldn't find it. "What's WRONG?!" I asked him. "I ... " and then the dam breaks and he's crying. My mind is racing. "You WHAT?" I ask again. Through his tears, he tells me that he needs to find a new home for his rat. I asked why he thought that and still crying, tells me he hasn't played with it enough and because of it, thinks his rat's dying. We go to inspect it. There's red "holes" around it's shoulders and a huge lump up near it's front leg. I'm Filipino and so are my children (in case you were wondering) but my son suddenly looked albino. His "knowledge" about rats led him to believe it was bored because he hadn't played enough with it, so it was now eating itself. I hate rodents. I almost hate all animals. Not becaue I never loved them. I wanted to be a vet and considered myself a "dog whisperer" when I was my pre-child self. I even had a rat in college. It's just that now, I don't want to deal with things that eat themselves when they're bored. Or poop for that matter. I get to deal with enough poop as it is. But my poor child faulted himself for his rat's slow, but eventual, suicide. It's a freaking rat. A rodent. A pest. People kill them, snakes swallow them. And my son has one named Jasmine. GRRRRR!!! Can't I just stomp on it's head, toss it in the trash, and start all over? I mean, we already have the cage, bedding, water bottle and even a wheel. A rat's a rat and like gnats, they all need to die. So what do I do? I call the vet. The one near my house, first. "How much for a rat visit?" "That would be $48 for the visit, and then whatever medications he'd need." "It's a rat." "I know." "$50 for a rodent? And then there's MEDICATIONS?" "Yes." "Thanks!" And I hung up, more shocked than irritated. So I called another vet and she quoted me $23. It's only because $23 is less than $48, but I actually got excited. Then I decided to have a frank, 1-on-1 with the lady on the phone. "Really, it's a rat. What would you do for it?" "I actually have a rat. He's awesome! So sweet. You need to meet him!" "Ma'ma, we're talking about a rat, right?" (Chuckle) "Yeah, it's crazy, but it's true. I love him!" "So does my son, so I guess I'll make the appointment." I decided that I needed to make my son a part of the process, plus I didn't want to pick the rat up, so I picked him up from school to attend the proceedure. I dropped him off, waited in the car as he fetched "Jasmine" and we raced to the vet. I met the lady I had spoken to the day before and because she knew we were coming in, she brought "Scott" to work. "Scott" wasn't a rat. He was an overgrown guinea pig with a pink whip for a tail. Scott made me want to vomit. But she snuggled him, loved on him, and you know, I actually saw what she meant. He was a sweet rat. I bet, out in nature, there exist sweet spiders and friendly wasp larvae, but I really don't care. So we go see the vet. She's actually a friend of mine which made THAT part of the visit fun. She asked a bunch of questions and we realized what had happened. Jasmine had escaped from the kids and hid in the water heating vents we have all over our house. Apparently she had gotten burned. And one of the burns got infected. And the infection had abcessed (sp?) So guess what? They drained the lump. I couldn't watch, but the look on the assistant's face turned my stomach. She would gasp and say, "wow that's a lot of puss ... OH! Now THAT was a lot! Oh wow! It's green!" I wanted to leave and set the rat free in the woods. As the vet put the rat back, she noticed yet another lump. And before I knew it, she drained it right infront of me. I saw puss. I already am not a fan of rats. I'm a less fan of puss. Put the 2 together and it makes me cranky. But my son was beaming. He was so happy to know there was a "cure" for his rat, and also to know it wasn't his "fault." He was equally proud of his rat for not even biting at the vet or her assistant. At the counter, I prepared myself for the ridiculousness of paying a vet bill for a rat. "That's going to be $68." "SIXTY EIGHT!?!?!?!" (My immediate impulse was to return the rat and service, as if it was a pair of jeans. I've never spent $68 on a pair of jeans, either. I've never spent $68 really on anything besides a grochery bill or car repair.) I reminded her that Scott's owner had quoted me $23. Scott's owner came to the rescue. And dropped my bill to $44. Still too much for a rat. And we don't have $44. Matt's back in school. Student loans and help from family. That's it. We don't have $44 for a rat. So yeah, I put it on the Credit card. There was no other way to do it. But that was 8 hours ago. And if I could go back in time, I'd have done it again. I just felt that it was the right thing to do. It's so important that kids feel loved, validated, important. And really, in a large family, it's important that no one gets lost in the shuffle. So I feel that when an opportunity presents itself to literally spell out to my child, "You are important, your feelings are important, and I'm going to validate you," I'm going to do it. I tell my kids I love them every day. I hug them often, kiss them often, tell them they're great, tell them I'm proud of them. But at times, I do feel it's important to "walk the talk" if that makes sense. It was a $44 rat visit. But seeing how my child walked around today, going overboard to help me in the kitchen, going the extra mile by taking the trash out w/o me asking him. He even willingly cleaned his sister's chores and just seemed happy to do it, I feel like maybe he's doing these things because that rat visit made him feel important. It's been a good day actually. Now, if I see more "lumps", we'll be letting nature take it's course next time around. Cuz we can't be making these parent moments too much of a habit!!

Thanksgiving 2012

Today was a great day. Super low key. We were going to spend Thanksgiving w/the Golds, but Angela welcomed the day all rosy cheeked and 103 degrees hot. So we found ourselves pretty much stuck at home and nothing to eat (I had been in charge of the turkey, but put it in our host's oven to cook as my oven is teensy weensy. Yes, I just said that: teensy weensy oven w/7 kids.) Anyways. We let them know we weren't coming and they told us to at least come get food, as the gathering had prepped food enough for everyone, including our family. So Matt drove over, dropped off the desserts I had made (I did keep portions of the desserts for us) and picked up a bunch of food. When Matt unloaded the food, he worried that he hadn't gotten enough. To his amazement, there were plenty of left overs! :) Anyways, kids were disappointed and kept asking Ange, "do you feel better now?" That got old real quick though and I told them to lay off of her, she felt bad enough being the cause of our Thanksgiving derailment, don't make her feel worse! Addi even told me, after she had finished her plate, "Mamma, dis is da wurs Tanksgiving evah!" I asked her why and she said cuz we didn't go over to the Golds. I had to laugh, especially since she said this to me right after the kids read my notes I had written them. Whenever we have Thanksgiving by ourselves, I write gratitude notes to my kids and Matt reads them out loud for the family to hear. I had told each of them what I loved about them, what I was grateful for, and thanked them for basically, being wonderful kids. Addi chose to tell me that Thanksgiving was the worst ever after we read those letters. I just had to laugh. Later on tonight, however, Colby says, "You know, today was actually pretty good! I liked it!" He helped pick the desserts and even helped make them. He did laundry all day yesterday and some today and was also incharge of the fireplace burning bright. The rest of the kids of course had their own chores, but it just goes to show you that work makes kids happy. That's all there is to it. Lazy kids, or kids who aren't expected to do much around the house, I think are totally unsatisfied. Anyways, that was critically judgemental of me! Sorry. So, all in all, great day. I sincerely do have so much to be thankful for. My wonderful marriage, my 7 healthy kids, my one baby in heaven looking out for us, my own healthy body. I'm so blessed to have kids who do well at school, in sports, enjoy church ~ sorta, who have good friends. We're always laughing here in the house. My kids sure have senses of humor! (they get it from me of course. LOL) OK, it's almost 1AM, so I best turn in. And sleeping in late. No black Friday shopping for this girl! Ever! :)

Nov 4th 2012

Today's been a good day. It's been a good week. I'm going to start really attacking my physical goals. I need to get into better shape. I need to lose 20 lbs. I'm doing it not just for myself, but for my kids and family. Even extended family. I feel like I need to be a good example. But that's not the only reason; good example. I just love it. I love feeling healthy, strong, and NOT fat. It's so empowering. I miss that feeling. I felt that right before I got pregnant with Addi and Riley. I felt so good. So I'm going to start working on that now. Happy with photography. I feel like it's really heading in the direction I need it to go. I feel much more confident about it, more at ease. And I feel like I'm in a place with it that I can be more creative. Not the crazy creative that's so popular (I don't think popular and creative belong in the same sentence. Popular is not creative. It's copying.) But what I mean is being more creative to fit the needs of those I photograph. Everyone has different likes and different "goals" they want to accomplish w/a photo shoot. I'm just saying I feel like I'm in a spot now w/photography that I can better meet the needs of people I photograph. I'm just really happy where things are in that area right now. Anyways, that's pretty much it for now. Soccer will be totally over this Saturday. Bitter sweet. I just love it SOOOO much! But the busy schedule will be something nice to put to the side for a bit. OK, I'm tired. I'll chat later!

A good week

One of my biggest "so there!" arguments with Matt is with my job, I don't get to see results until my children are parents and I can see how they've turned out. 20 years or so. Well, I'd like to say 30 years, cuz I hope and pray my children marry later in life. Anyways, I accuse Matt of not understanding how "thankless" my job can be. He studies for a test, takes the test, and is supercharged when he gets his 'A'. (I never got A's on tests. Unless it was a fitness test. Otherwise, I rejoiced with a C. Especially if it was a high C.) Matt's been doing well in his PA program. High A's on every test. I'm happy for him of course (it's in my best interest!) and glad that he gets "immediate response" to his hard work. What are my immediate responses to my hard work? Oh, yeah! That's it! Ah-NOTHER load of dishes! Oh, and yes! Of course! The clean clothes I asked the kids to put away ... all over the floor! And what have we here? Poop in the toilet, not flushed, probably 2 hrs DOA. And w/o toilet paper, yippee. Means there's one nasty bum on the run. Anyways! I must admit. I love motherhood, but it's not for the wimpy. Maternal love. It's obviously God-given. SOOO, wanna hear what happened to me? When it rains, it pours. About a year ago Angela played this girl in a soccer game. This girl was her team's MVP for sure. Fast, aggressive, awesome. And missing her arm. It looked to have been amputated below the elbow. But that's what made this girl even more amazing. She didn't let that stop her awesomeness! It did however scare Angela. To the point that she didn't want to play soccer the next season in fear that she'd have to play this girl again. She didn't like the "feel" of her arm when it touched her. I didn't realize that the reason Angela didn't want to play soccer the following season was due to this girl. I just figured Ange wanted a break. So I gave it to her. When she asked to miss out on yet another season, I questioned her and that's when I found out that she was afraid of the players arm. So I told Angela, "play this season, and the Saturday you have to play this girl's team, you can miss the game." I didn't want to force Angela into this because I could tell it really troubled her. I also figured, and prayed, that as time went on, Angela would come to terms on her time table. As the time drew closer for Angela to play this certain team, I could sense, as only a mother senses in her child, her fear and apprehension. Angela reminded me over and over that she didn't want to play the game and I reminded her back, over and over, that she wasn't going to. I promised her I wouldn't pressure her or try and even ENCOURAGE her to play. Just simply, you won't play that game. We did talk about the little girl, how she was just a normal, sweet, pretty girl who liked soccer. That something happened to her, we don't know what, but she had to lose a part of her arm. Angela got it. She just didn't like the feel of it. I got it, too. And I felt it most important that Angela take this problem face to face, on her terms. The night before the game, Angela came up to me and said, "Mom, I don't want my fear to stop me from playing. So I want to play tomorrow." I. Couldn't. Belive it. She told me that she was still nervous, so, "Can we talk more about her and about my fears?" She asked me to send the kids to bed so we could have alone time and just talk in privacy. So I did. And so we did. She told me she was frustrated w/herself that the little "nob makes me scared." Then Angela said the most tender thing. She said, "She has pretty hair. I bet she wishes she had my arms like I wish I had her hair." I told her she's probably right. Long story short, Angela played. She played her heart out. I caught her stealing glimpses over at the little girl, but that was it. After the game, Angela told me she wanted to tell the girl she played a good game. I agreed, but at that same second, Angela chickened out. And I decided to once again, not force the issue. I know she'll get another chance and maybe then, she'll make the choice to congratulate her on her own. I was so proud of Angela that day. So so proud. I have my own fears. I can't read outloud. If asked, my chest seizes up, I can't breath, and my throat goes paralyzed. Most people call that an anxiety attack. I call it a serious issue. I can't handle heights. I get the sensation that I want to throw myself over. I hug walls or hide behind things so I don't have to deal with windows in tall buildings. Most people call that a phobia. I call it another serious issue. I'm too afraid to face my issues, but Angela faced hers. Head on. And totally on her own. The other thing that happened this week had to do w/Colby. His whole soccer team was invited to one of the players houses for a Halloween party. He was sooo excited. The night came for the party and Colby was literally pacing the house, asking what time it was, wondering if we should get going. Because I didn't know the player or his family well, we decided to take Colby as part of our weekly date, check the party out, and then leave Colby there so we could have our date, then pick Colby back up. Matt hadn't turned the car off before Colby had hopped out the car and was gone. Matt and I were greeted by the hostess and we introduced ourselves to the other guests. I asked where the boys were and she said, "They're out ding-dong-ditching." I honestly wasn't comfortable with this. Not so much the activity itself, but just because we were in an unfamiliar neighborhood, I didn't know anyone, it was pitch black, etc. So I went to find Colby to try and talk him out of it. No Colby. They had long gone. Matt and I just looked at each other, speechless, wondering what to do. So we decided to stick around, enjoy the party, and wait until the boys got back. We sat around a fire w/the other adults and really enjoyed ourselves. I love meeting people and the party was actually super fun and festive. As much as I was enjoying myself, however, I was worried about Colby. Anxious for the boys to get back. And out of the blue/black, Colby joined our fire. I turned to him and said, "Oh, you're back! Where are the other boys?" He said, "They were ringing doorbells and running off and making people mad, so I just left." I. Could. Not. Belive it. These boys were his buddies. Soccer buddies. And not that it really matters, but thse buddies just so happened to be the strongest players on his team. And he had the courage to up and leave an activity that they were doing that he didn't feel comfortable doing. All by himself. In the end, he came w/us on our date. And I just fell head over heels in love with my boy, all over again. Colby is infamous for being "a follower." And he is. In social settings, at school, at church, he is definitely NOT a leader. He follows. And he usually likes to follow the kid who's acting the fool, too! Colby likes to make people laugh, so when he sees the kid who, in his opinion, is funny, or cutting up, he likes to follow that kid. So to see that Colby up and left a group the way he did that evening, just boosted my everything as a mom. Tonight Matt took Jess out for her birthday date. As part of her date, she had her dad take her to the dollar store and she bought a present for every single person in the family. She knew the boys liked Cow Tails, so she bought that. She knew the girls like stuffed animals, so her sisters got stuffed animals. O loves dinosaurs, so she bought him a dinosaur toy. And McSmiley got a ball. Cuz guess what? He loves to kick balls around. And they were all bought with her birthday money from her grandparents. On a daily basis I'm getting after my kids for being ... kids. For trying my patience, ignoring my requests, being mean or snobby to each other, the list can go on for quite some time here! So when I had a week of 3 of my kids making choices like the ones they made. Gosh, I have to admit. It makes me so incredibly happy. At the same time, I can't pat myself on the back. Or even Matt's. These kids came to me with the greatest spirits. Heavenly Father sent me great kids. They're easy kids. Anyone could raise them and they'd turn out great. I know it. It sorta tempts me to put away my photography so I can more fully enjoy these spirits. They're obviously more valient than I am. And I bet I could learn a lot more from them than from my camera!!

Sept 30 2012

Wow! This week flew by! I'm committing myself to blogging every Sunday night after the kids are in bed. Can't believe it's already that time again! It's been a good week. Busy, but the weather's been so great, that I have been loving the chance to be outside for soccer practices. The games were great yesterday but I won't be talking soccer tonight. Church. That's what I want to talk about. Lately I've been able to go to Relief Society. Because of my callings for the past 5 years (Primary pianist and then Young Women) I had to miss Relief Society. And I was perfectly fine with it. I loved my callings. But the past month, I've been able to go to RS and it's causing a change in me. It's making me want to be a better person. I guess that's what they mean when they say that going to church helps to strengthen testimony. Such a Sunday School answer, such cliche, but I really am experiencing this and I'm glad. I've needed it. I need to be better. Raising children, it's a given. I need to be closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus and more intune to Their whispers and encouragements. I just need to be better and it's really been a neat experience to actually FEEL and better understand the purposes of RS. I'm not so much feeling motivated to serve "my neighbor" better or to run around helping people or paint park benches or what not, but rather, I'm feeling more motivated to chill out. To recognize more my priorities and to take it to a more "spiritual level" my responsibility as a mom and a wife. I see my children as such valient, courageous spirits, blessing my life with their choice to come to me, and I just need to do a better job at giving them every tool, every experience, every opportunity to be better themselves and more importantly, to have both a desire to be converted to the Gospel and also and understanding of how to be converted to the Gospel. And I seriously have a stomach ache, so I'm going to bed!