Things I've learned....

...teaching my son to drive.

1. Never yell.
2. Never-mind. Yelling is okay as there are times your life might depend on it.
3. It's okay to pee your pants every now and again. It cannot be helped.
4. Don't assume that your child knows the difference between a stop sign and a stop light. DO NOT ASSUME.
5. The white line is optional...
6. Parking in an empty parking lot is harder than it seems.
7. All cars should come with a brake on the passenger's side.
8. I don't see the freeway in his future. You're welcome.
9. Roundabouts are evil and confusing and should be banned from Earth!
10. Prayers are answered. I know this because I am still alive.

And those are the things I've learned teaching my son to drive.

You know you have a teenage boy....

He's handsome, but doesn't know it.

He actually thinks its funny to fart on your leg. Literally... rear on leg.

He is starving all the time.

He texts you and asks you to come get him. And then calls after 2 minutes and asks "Are you almost here?"

His fuse is very short at all times. Case in point, he yelled at the manicotti last night. "I can't do this. It's just too much. I can't!!"

He farts...for fun.

He tells you, "Mom, I look good today." and then 15 minutes later says, "I look awful!"

He's starving again.

He finds an enormous amount of joy teasing his brothers to tears.

He finds plenty of time to work out, text, hang out with friends. But when it comes to chores, "Mom! I am so busy. I don't have time." Yeah, I don't think so.

Again with the farting.

All the food in the house is gone.

All this being said...I love him.

He is more engaging. Our conversations are more abstract and applicable.

He is becoming less boy more man, with better judgment and more compassion.

He is finding who he is and who he wants to be.

He gets my jokes and actually laughs at them. Eye rolling is the teenage way for laughing, don't you know.

And that is how you know you have a teenage boy in your house.

Just follow the smell

A Blue Wal-Mart car cart

It happened in a Wal-Mart parking lot....a full parking lot.

My oldest at the time was about 20 months and he LOVED riding in the carts that look like cars and are super hard to navigate through the store. You know those, right? If not, well, you haven't lived is all I'm saying.

If that's living, then living is overrated. Just one person's opinion.

But in the mind of my son, there was nothing else to live for.....only that very large blue car cart that had for the last several weeks been avoiding him.

But this morning, he was determined that the blue car would be his!

As he begged me to promise that he could have the car, I told him that maybe he should pray that Heavenly Father would help the cart be available when we got there. Yes, I know, sometimes God's answers are no and there was a high chance that the cart wasn't going to be there. But he prayed nonetheless.

As we pulled into the parking lot, my heart sunk because, like I said, the parking lot was FULL. As I put the van in park, I said a little prayer in my heart that there would be a cart so that my son could know for himself that God cared about him, that God had heard his prayer.

We made our way to where you pick up your carts, sitting there on the side was the biggest, most awkward blue car cart every known to man....okay, that's a little exaggerated. I guess a better way of saying it would be: Sitting there on the side was the biggest answer to my son's prayer...his heart's desire...the blue car cart.

Maybe is silly that I remember this. But maybe it isn't. I believe God gives us those tender mercies, those answers to the little things in our lives....at times when what we ask for are not live changing or life or death. But He recognizes our need to know that he is there.

Some may say, "Oh, well. That was just a coincidence." or "You were just lucky." Maybe so. Maybe so. BUT I don't believe that. I know that God heard both our prayers and felt to bless us in this way.

Prayer works, people. I know it does.

And that's that.

Thanks for listening.

How do you cool YOUR house?

Yup. We are smack dab in the middle of summer. It's pretty much hot wherever you go....at least as far as I can see....and I can see far. LIke the moon. The stars. The great abyss. See, far.

My point: It is hot. So we cool our homes to keep us from melting into the pavement. But not everyone cools their house the same way.

There are those you have central air...that's us. It was a must when we were looking for houses to buy.

Others use swamp coolers. Such a weird name...and kind of insulting if you ask me.

There are window units....which require you to open your window to cool off your home....huh? This one confuses me a bit but so does the phrase "Fun Run," so who am I to judge?

Ceiling fans, electric fans, paper fans...whatever it takes to stay cool.

My son came up with a way to cool our house about a month ago. That is, he decided to open the freezer door....and leave it open....

....for NINE HOURS!!!!

He came home from football practice and had to grab some ice for his water. Apparently he got side-tracked and forgot one important thing: Close the freezer door.

Off he ran to help our friend do some heavy yard work for 5 hours. I picked him up as soon as I got off work and we went to dinner and a movie.

I wish I could say that when I walked into the house it was like an icebox. However, that was not the case.

So in case you were considering this method of cooling your house this summer....

...DON"T.

I am a horrible mom

My son has practically been waiting his whole entire life to play high school football.

All his life, I tell you.

And I have been hoping, all his life, that he won't. will find some other way to break every bone in his body  sport to enjoy.

All his life, I tell you.

My son is now starting his freshman year of high school...
His thoughts, "Yeah! Finally!!"
My thoughts, "What the....what??"

So you can imagine his excitement that finally he was going to be able to play football.

I was....slightly less excited.

In fact, this is where I think I win the "Worst Mother of the Year" award because this is what my first thought was..."I sure hope he doesn't make the team."

Don't get me wrong. I want him to be successful. I want him to learn to work hard for the things that he wants. I do. I really, really do.

But we are talking football, people. You know...concussions, broken bones, locker-room banter/hazing, not to mention really cold stadium seats. Football. The real-deal-break-my-boy-in-two football.

So I admit it. I thought it. I didn't say it out loud....well, not until today where I am putting it down in print for the world, my son and my posterity for generations to come  to see...uhhh...ahem...oops.

But not to worry.

Because he has informed me that everyone makes the team.

(less that enthusiastic) "Yeah!"

Church what????

In case you didn't know this already, boys are gross.

G-R-O-S-S_!!!!

They do gross things. They talk about gross things. That make weird noises.....on purpose....in a specific direction...on purpose.

Why is this? Really. Why? I don't think I will ever understand this.

Well, as we were driving home from church two weeks ago, Brody let one fly. This is way too common. I think there is something about being in an enclosed space with a lot of uplifted people that brings the gas out of my children. 

Okay, so Brody lets loose. Kobe sniffs...gross...and says, "Oh my gosh! You just let a Church Fart!!"

Huh? What the heck is a Church Fart?

"A Church Fart is the worst kind of fart. Haven't you ever walked into a room at church after someone has cut the cheese? It stinks. Real bad. But oddly smells the same...every time.That, is a Church Fart. And Brody just did a Church Fart."

There, now don't you feel enlightened?

G-R-O-S-S

Show some restraint!!!

We have "No Touch" zones in our house.

I don't mean places in our house that you can't touch....although that is a good idea. Not that they would be respected in my house, but still. But that's not what I am talking about. You see, we have taught all our kids that there are places on their bodies that people should not touch. We are very clear on this subject.

Thank goodness for that!
Last Saturday, my 13 year old son informed me that his teacher had slapped his rear end. What!! Say that again!! Slowly. Start over, please.

"I was leaning over to pick up my backpack and someone slapped my butt. I stood up and turned to see that is was my teacher. I said, 'What the heck!' Then she smiled and said, 'I'm sorry. It was right in front of me. I couldn't resist.'"

Ummmm, excuse me! Why couldn't you! Are you 13 years old or an adult? Are you not a trained educator of children? Do you not watch the news??? What is wrong with this lady? There are some lines that you don't cross. Actually, there are some lines that you should never approach. Apparently she doesn't think there are any lines.

This teacher....has been bothering me this whole year. She is the art teacher. She sometimes will have pictures of naked people up, which I understand is "art" but I am not sure that's the kind of art you want to be displaying in your 8th grade art class.

She has also allowed crude, inappropriate behaviour to happen in her class several times.Like the time she had the whole class draw a picture of a male student with a broomstick between his legs. Not bad in and of itself except that the boy proceeded to masturbate the stick. Now the class was no longer drawing a broomstick, rather his erected male part. She simply laughed and told the kids to draw.

You can bet I was in the office on Monday morning. At best it was sexual harassment. Grossly irresponsible. Incredibly unacceptable. Needless to say, he is no longer in her class and the school is dealing with her.

"No touch" zones are not to be messed with.

Ever!

Boy, does he sweat!!

Did you know that your eyes can sweat?

I had no idea that this was even possible. I mean, I have had sweat drip into my eyes, and that burns. But I have never sweat from my eyes.

I just learned this new bit of information from my son.

You see, today we were cleaning. Correction, I was cleaning. Everyone was simply moving things from one corner of the room to the other, as slowly as possible. Including this son. So I did my motherly responsibility and called him out on it.

That's when his eye-sweating began. "Hey, son. You don't need to cry about this. It isn't that big of a deal. Just finish the task. Simple," I told him.

"I'm not crying. My eyes are sweating," he informed me.

Wow. And all these years I thought I was just being sensitive. Now I know that my eyes simply have a perspiration problem.

Overprotective....?

Common sense.  Prudence. Good judgement. Discernment. Wisdom

All things missing from my son's middle school social studies teacher.

Let me put this out there first off. September 11th was horrific! A day that should never EVER be forgotten. It was awful and unbelievable and mortifying all at the same time. I am not one to shelter my children from what happened that day.

They know that planes were hijacked by people who hate America. They know that some people died a horrible death. They know there were people who jumped out the windows of the WTC. They know there were courageous men and women who became heroes that day. Many of them dying. The loss was huge. One of the worst in American history.

My kids understand this.

All of them came home last week talking about the discussions they had in their classes. My younger ones had talked about it in their classes. My older two had watched videos. Kyla had watched the same video that we have at our house.

My son, however, watched a different video. A very different video. One that was going to be lasting more than 3 days. One that I am pretty sure I would NEVER have let him watch. I rarely let my children watch any PG-13 movies that I haven't previewed first. I have made a few exceptions, but they are few...very few and far between.

So when he came home telling me about his movie, I was a little disturbed. He told me about hearing the F-word over and over and over again. We don't use that language in my house and neither do most of the people that we hang out with, so to hear it repeatedly was noticeable for him. I am pretty sure the F-bomb puts any movie into the PG-13 rating.

But that's not even the worst part.

This film showed dead people. We're not talking about Hollywood's version of dead. We are talking about real people, recently dead people. Their bodies. Their faces. Eyes open and all. I have not seen many dead people in my lifetime, but the few that I have seen are seared into my memory. 

My son added that you could hear bodies hitting the ground in background. And he knew it was bodies because the camera guy said they were just falling from the sky. 

My question is this. Why do we need to expose our young ones to so much so young? I mean, really? I get teaching the tragedy of the attacks. But there are videos that show the tragedy without showing everything. And to me, that video was over the line.  

Maybe I'm over-protective, but it's my right to be that way. I don't see a need to have that age group listen to foul language, no matter the situation. It will only promote it. Secondly, once those images and sounds are in their heads, they will not ever leave. I wonder if he even thought about that.

It's one thing if he wants to show it to his own children. His prerogative. But he doesn't have that right to show highly inappropriate not to mention unnecessary disturbing videos to my child...not without my permission.

Yes, I called the principal. No, she wasn't aware of the video. Yes, she would take immediate action. The principal was great about it. She agreed with me.

Do you? Would you have a problem with that?

I learned it from my kids: Rice Take

I've been feeling like my children need to learn how to do things on their own. Partly so they can become responsible adults someday. Mostly because I am tired of doing everything. Yeah, I know. I'm selfish that way.

I decided I would start this past Sunday. We were having friends over to eat and were having Hawaiian Haystacks. This recipe calls for rice. Cooked rice. Great! We have a rice cooker so surely Kobe could handle it with no problem. Right?

Cooking Rice: Take One

He pulls out the rice container and fills it up with the rice and the water.

"Now what?" he asked.
"Okay, now put it in the rice cooker," I instructed.

Easy enough, right?

I look back and he is pouring the rice and water into the cooker....instead of setting the container in it. Pouring it in. Ack!!!!  Praying it wasn't broken, we cleaned it out.

Cooking Rice: Take Two

Once again he measures the rice. Once again, he measures the water. This time, he puts the container of rice and water into the rice cooker, pushes start and off we go.

By this time, our friends have arrived and we visited while we waited for the rice to finish. Okay, let's be honest, Hubs visited, I finished cutting up the veggies.

Finally the rice beeps done and we are ready to eat. I open cooker. All it took was one look to know that he hadn't added enough water. Ugh! There was really no time to fix it. Everyone was ready to eat.

So eat it we did. Or at least some of us did. It was only a little crunchy. The adults ate with no complaining, but the youngers took one bite and they were done.

Cooking Rice: Take Three

We ended up making one more batch. This time it was perfect. Only it was about 40 minutes late.

Overall it was a memorable experience. He learned how not to cook rice. Isn't that how life is sometimes. We learn to do things by doing them wrong. Making mistakes. Trying again. And again. And sometimes one more again.  We try and try until we get it right. Or at least right-er.

Next stop, laundry!

A smile on my face

I really am not a vulgar person. But this was not what I expected to see when I went to the zoo with my first grader. But see it we did. Always makes for good conversation on the way home.

Can I just say YAY!? I am so happy to be done with soccer. No more scrambling to find uniforms, socks, shin guards, shoes, balls, water bottles, etc. Can you tell it was time? So time.

Ain't he cute?!?! He is my baby...you know...the one who forgot how to be potty trained. I wish he would remember.  

It was free comic book day. Kobe has just started to get into them. This was Grandpa Captain America and a much older and wider Thor. Funny. But if you haven't seen Avengers yet, you must! I am not kidding! It really is that good!!

"First off, you have only been there once. Today. How are you a valued customer?"

"Secondly, it's only a good deal if you are shopping for rims." 

"And $70 is not practically free."  

Happy Mother's Day to you all!!

I Learned it From My Kids: You're not going to believe this

His homework was ruined. Totally, utterly, and completely ruined.

"Mom! How could you let this happen?" he irrationally asked. Remember, tween.

"Me? How could I let this happen? So I was the one who didn't put your homework in your backpack? Instead I left it on the chair? That was me?" I asked.

There was nothing he could say except, "What am I supposed to do? I have to turn it in today."

"I am Mom! I can fix anything," I reminded him.

You see, for whatever reason, after he was done with his homework, he decided that instead of putting it in his backpack or even on the kitchen table, he was going to put it on the dining room chair.

No big deal, right?

Yeah, no big deal...until this morning when everyone gathered for breakfast. No big deal until his potty-training brother chose to stand on the chair that held his homework. No big deal until said brother decided he didn't want to be potty trained at the moment.

We are talking the first release of the morning. All over the chair. All over the floor. And consequently, all over Kobe's "Fraction and Decimal" homework. 

A little of blow drying and a lot of Lysol and the homework was saved.

So, what did I learn?

First, I learned that if we don't take care of those things that are important to us, people are going to pee all over them.

If I really believe that our bodies are temples, then shouldn't I avoid viewing media that promotes the exploitation of them?

If I believe that sex is sacred and should be saved for marriage, then shouldn't I turn off any music, movie or TV show that treats it with complete disrespect?

If family is of extreme importance, then shouldn't I make it my top priority and eliminate all the unnecessary distractions?

The world is just standing there with its pants down waiting...waiting to pee on whatever is important to us. So let's not let them! Lets put our treasures up up where no-one can ruin them.

The second thing I learned was that potty trainers should go to the bathroom as soon as they wake.

What did you learn from your kids this week? If you want to share, link up. 

Tdap smack

My 12 year old has to get the Tdap shot. Right in the rooster. At least that's what I am telling him because it is really fun to watch him squirm.

"Am I gonna have to pull down my pants?" he asks uncomfortably.
"Yessiree. To the ankles, my boy."  Mean, I know.

So I called to get an appointment. Because we are in between insurances now, I wanted to know how much it was going to cost me.

"Well, some doctors, if they know you are self-pay will give you the free shot and charge you the $12 administration fee. While others will give you the regular shot which costs $35 plus a $35 administration fee," she explained.

Huh?

I understand the name brand shot costing more. That's just common sense

"Why in the world does it cost more to administer the name brand shot than it does the generic?"  I am pretty sure the same nurse will be administering whatever shot I choose. She will be walking the same distance from the medicine cabinet to our room. You can count on them giving the same standard circle band-aid that they give for every shot. It's pretty basic. Pretty much aim and shoot, right?

Of course I would go with the cheaper shot...right? But then I got to thinking...maybe there is something special that makes the second shot worth the extra $60 that they aren't telling us about.

 Like, maybe it turns your skin green for a few hours. But that wouldn't make sense because the shot is in the rump and who are you gonna show. "Hey, Best Friend! I got this really cool shot. It changes my skin green. Wanna see?"

No. Not worth the extra money.

Well, maybe it is a stronger dose. So strong that you are guaranteed not to get sick for 2 years. But what doctor's office would do that? Hello! They would lose money. And with my family, lots of it. Yeah, not good for business. I doubt they would offer that.

Maybe they give you a drink of water after the shot? A $60 cup of water? What? They do that all the time in the hospital after you have a baby. "You want some apple juice with ice? No problem. A binkie for your baby? Sure. An extra blanket, no problem." Yeah, no problem until you see the bill.

So pretty much it was a no brainer. We are getting the $12 shot.

Right in the gooser!

Hooking up with Jen Matlock's ABC Thursday...the letter T. 

**Reminder: Tomorrow is "I Learned It From My Kids" hook up. If you wanna link a post to mine, you will have the opportunity. 

Don't look!

"Don't look," he said as he stepped to the sliding door of the van and unzipped.

Like we wanted to look.

Two and a half hours in the car after downing 16+oz of fluid meant that he couldn't hold it any longer....not even the last 10 minutes. So to the side of the road we went. (Don't worry....we were still in the sticks.)

"Promise you won't look!" he repeated.

"I promise I will not look. This is me...not looking."

A few seconds later we hear, "Holy cow! (Giggle giggle) Look how far I can pee. (Hahaha!) Wow! That is far! Did you see that??"

So of course we all looked...you know, without looking. And let me say...that boy can pee. As in he could probably go all the way to nationals in the "Standing Man Pee" contest...if there was such a sport....(Though I wouldn't consider it a sport. Would you? I mean, how would you even practice for that? Would you need a coach?) Nevertheless, I am glad there isn't such an event.

All of us were laughing....Hubs was crying. He'd never felt so proud. Not really. He was just imagining the passing cars seeing the stream. Hilarious.

Ahhh, yes. Good, old fashioned, home grown entertainment.

See what happens when you aren't looking.

?????

 Kobe and I were looking through the ads for Black Friday. He opens up the Wal-mart ad and says, "This is what I want for Christmas.". I look over and he is pointing at the Xbox that was on sale.

"You want an Xbox? But we have a Wii," I reminded him.

"I know. But I don't care. I either want this Xbox or Uncle Scott's Xbox."

Looking a little puzzled, I asked, "Is Uncle Scott selling his Xbox?"

"No. I don't think so," he responded.

"?????"

So I Married a Deaf Man: "Yah. My dad is Deaf. So."

I thought today I would let you view our life through the eyes of our 11 year old. (BTW, we are totally going to skip the quotation marks because I am so lazy. Sorry teachers....it just ain't happenin'.)

Enjoy.

me: So, son, I have a question for you.
Kobe: Ok

me: How does it feel having a deaf dad?
Kobe: Awesome

me: Awesome why?
Stefanie: It is different and so cool

me: Why do you think it is cool?
Kobe: I get to learn sign language. I like that

me: And what is the hardest part?
Kobe: The hardest is you can't really get his attention. You have to run to him and tag him to get attention

me: And what is the funnest part?
Kobe: My favorite part of having a deaf dad is talking to him in sign language,and learning it

me: Do you think you would want to marry someone who was deaf?
Kobe: Yah. Totally.That would be really cool

me: How do you feel when your friends find out your dad is deaf?
Kobe: I may feel embarrassed or I may feel cool

me: Why embarrassed?
Kobe: Because they will be looking at me weird when i am talking to dad in sign language and tell everyone at school that I have a deaf dad. That has happened to me before

me: How does that make you feel?
Kobe: Awkward

me: What do your friends usually say when they find out?
Kobe: They say, "Your dad is deaf? Why?"

me: What do you say?
Kobe: "Yah, he is deaf because he got sick when he was little."

me: What is the weirdest thing that has happened to you when you were with Dad?
Kobe: When people were staring at us when we were talking. I feel kind of like they think I am weird or something. I feel awkward.

me: Do you think you get away with things because dad is deaf?
Kobe: Yah. Like sneaking stuff. And saying bad things to him (speaking it).

me: You say bad things to dad? Like what?
Kobe: Like "I hate you" or "You are stupid."

me: You say that? That's crazy. Good thing he can't hear you, huh.
Kobe: I don't. Brody does. All the time.

Me: Do you ever wish he could hear?
Kobe: No way! I want a deaf dad!

Let's Roll

My oldest child was God's attempt at making me arrive places on time. He hates being late, and that is an understatement. He starts freaking out about 30 minutes before the thing starts. Church seems to be the exception to his rule.

So on Friday, he was doing his normal freaking out and made his way into the car. Instead of climbing into his seat through his door, he decided to climb in via the driver's seat...because we all know that is the fastest way to get to the passenger's seat....cough cough...ahem.

While climbing from the driver seat to the passenger seat, he accidentally released the emergency brake. As our driveway is slightly slanted, the car began to roll. I look up and there rolled my car. Kobe's eyes looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

Doing what anyone else in that situation would do, I grabbed onto the side mirror and started to pull on it, as if pulling the mirrior was going to stop the car. I'm strong, but not that strong.

The next smart thing I did was yell, "Stop the car Kobe! Stop it!!"
He looked at me like he was about to poop his pants. "I don't know how to stop the car!"
"Oh. Right. Okay."

Instead, he reached over and unlocked the door. I'm not sure how that got locked, seeing that he climbed in through it, but no matter. It was locked. That was good thinking on his part. He is part Hubs.

I opened the door, jumped in and slammed on the brakes right before the car jumped the curb and hit our neighbor's truck. I am not sure why I didn't just tell him to pull the emergency brake. Probably because that would have been too simple a solution. I don't do simple.

I couldn't help giving him a hard time.

"When you say, 'Let's go!' you really mean it."

What is that smell?

I smell.

No, I don't mean that I stink...although you would have disagreed with me if you stood next to me in the grocery line this morning after my rigorous Zumba workout. Yeah, I did smell.

What I mean is that I have a sensitive nose. If there is a good smell or a bad smell...it will be smelled. I love to smell my hair when I am bored; my hands when they are lotioned, my clothes when they are clean. I dread walking into my house and smelling my unpotty trained child's diaper that wasn't taken all the way outside, the burnt toast from this morning and the overall Rufus smell that constantly fills the air.  

But if you think my nose is bad, my son's is worse. He really smells.

He has always had a sensitive nose. This kid would never wash his pillowcase if he has his way because then it doesn't smell like...well...his night head sweat.

I knew he was going to be a sniffer at a very young age. Two to be exact.

He wouldn't shake hands with people when he was little because he didn't want to smell like them. If friends put one of his toys in their mouth he wouldn't play with it again. Ever. I remember cuddling him close to me and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He wiped it off with his hand, then lifted that hand to his nose and took a long whiff.

Yup. Natural born sniffer.

I am not quite sure how the two of us are going to survive these stinky, p-u-berty years....

Any suggestions??



Linking up with Jen Matlock's ABC Thursdays.

By the way, tomorrow is my recipe group here. We are making foods made with Citrus...lemons, limes, oranges. If you have any you want to share, LMK and I can linky it up on Friday.

All you are is...mean.

If you are a professional, I would expect you to behave like a professional. Am I wrong here?

I don't care how old you are. I don't care your field. I don't care how much I am paying you. You have the obligation to treat me, your customer with respect. This requirement is magnified the moment I place one of my children in your care.

This summer, my oldest joined the swim team in our community. It has been such a great experience for him. We encouraged  him to join because we knew it would be a confidence booster for him. We figured because it is such an individual sport and yet still a team sport it would be perfect for him.

You see, my oldest is very tender hearted. A better friend you will not find because he is genuine. He asks you a question because he really wants to know more about you. He is keenly aware of others feelings and doesn't want to hurt anyone. Great guy.

The flip side is that he isn't aggressive...at all. He struggles with this because so many boys his age are. They are much more competitive and rough and less considerate of others. He is willing to let others win just so they will feel good about themselves.

This is why when we heard about the swim team, we signed him up. And like I said, it has been great.

Today, however, when I pulled up to the pool to pick Kobe up, he was really quiet. Unusually quiet. I looked at him and asked, "Hey. What's up? Is everything okay?"

"I guess I am a baby," he replied, tearing up.
"What? Who told you that?" I asked, feeling the temperature in my blood start to rise.
"The assistant coach," he sniffled out.

I asked him to explain what happened.

**It is important to note that for the past week, they have been swimming with jeans so that when they compete, they will be much stronger.**

Well, today, for whatever reason, Kobe was having a hard time. Maybe it was because he swam in six different events Saturday. Maybe it's because he had his trunks on under his pants. Maybe it's because he is still getting over being sick. Maybe I am giving him too many excuses. But for whatever reason, it was really hard for him today.

Doesn't everyone have an off day? We are allowed that, right?

Apparently the assistant coach didn't think so. She started yelling at him, "Come on, you baby! Stop being a baby!!" She said this more than once.

These are children.

They aren't college students who have developed thick skin. They aren't high school kids who couldn't care less what you say because they know more than you anyway. No. You are working with impressionable kids who take what you say to heart. Some of them literally.

It's one thing to come from a peer. It's totally different to come from an adult. But it is absolutely unacceptable to come from a professional. Do you not know the difference between encouraging and degrading? Surely you know it does nothing in building their confidence.

I assured him that he wasn't a baby. The problem was not his...it sounded more like it was hers. Perhaps she hadn't learned that degrading others was not considered motivating.

You can bet that I will be at the pool tomorrow. Keeping an eye on that gal. Most likely speaking with the head coach.

Am I overreacting? Would you be upset? What would you do? 

Really, what should I do?

Moooving right along!

I have a child who loves milk. If given the choice between milk and almost any other beverage, he would choose milk. Honestly, I think if he could bathe in it. So glad he can't because that would just be nasty. Really.

This is the same child who gets headaches. All. The. Time. As in, he lives daily with headaches, sometimes they are livable and other days they are crippling.  This has been happening since he was seven years old. He is now eleven. We had tried every
thing: visiting the pediatrician, dentist, optometrist, chiropractor, neurologist, MRI, loading him up with water, veggies, meat,etc. Nothing helped!

One day, this milk loving child had a large Oreo blizzard which was quickly followed by a massive migraine. 

Hmmmm. Veddy Interesting!

So we cut all milk from our milk loving child, for a week. And guess what! Not one headache. All week. Holy cow! It was that simple.

Not only that, but Hubs who also suffers with headaches, did the cut too. And wouldn't you know it...zero headaches.

How did we not figure this out sooner? Maybe you all are saying, "Well, duuuuuh!" But not even the multiple specialists we went to asked about his diet. Weird.

No matter. Now that we know the cause, we can keep an eye on it. Now that we know, we can hopefully prevent them. Now that we know, this mama can feel at ease...for the moment.

Dang dairy!