I started this blog when Jack was a year old. There was this rough idea to write a book about being a stay-at-home Dad with a toddler, and the blog would not only be a way to maybe promote or create interest for it, but also showcase my writing for potential publishers. I don't know. The idea seemed valid, and it would also help me to practice writing and give some permanence to my thoughts and experiences.
The book never happened, but the blog was a wild success. With my immediate family members and a few strangers who stumbled upon it while probably searching for ways to buy diapers online. But I think -- next to my wife and of course Mom, who checked it every day even when I was only posting every month or so -- it was the most useful to me. An outlet for my thoughts and experiences, a place to work through the adventures and occasional stress of being a parent (of first Jack, and then also Kate), a way to write down things that I didn't want to forget.
My Mom printed out all of them; that was nice. Emily had them collected into an oversized book that I keep by my bed; also great to have. (I'm going to need to look into getting a Volume 2 published, which will be a little bit thinner.) And I hope they'll live forever on the Internet, entertaining future online readers who are looking for great deals on diapers.
So why stop? There are multiple reasons. One is that they're no longer toddlers, shuffling around and drawing pictures of rainbow faces and monkeys and dogs and stick figure adults. They're basically little people, and it feels a little too familiar or intrusive if I talk about Jack walking home with a girl or Kate's mini-dramas with her friends. They're 13 and 11, and before I know it he'll be in high school and she won't be far behind.
The second, kind of sadder, is that I don't see them as much as I used to. Crazy to say, but I used to see them after school every day, and there were daily trips to the grocery store, the YMCA for swim lessons, and organizing and scheduling playdates. Now there are sports practices or gymnastics classes at a minimum, but also kids disappearing from view shortly after getting home for homework (more than there used to be), video games (way more than there used to be) and other online pursuits -- games, texting with friends, Instagram and SnapChat. We can and do limit these things, but then what? Jack doesn't want to sit and do a craft project anymore. Kate only rarely has any interest in drawing a picture.
It's easy (but not entirely wrong) to blame the smartphone. If they didn't have that distraction -- the lure of always being able to interact with their friends, or watch a funny video, or whatever -- perhaps I'd see them a little more. But I think back to when I was Jack's age. If I didn't have a soccer practice, it isn't like I hung out doing crafts or playing games with my parents. I watched TV, read books and comic books in my room, talked on the phone with friends. Between school and dinner, and dinner and bed, the bulk of my interactions were when we watched the same TV show. OK and cards and board games, but less and less as we got older.
So the blog is done; long live the blog! I'm not fully comfortable writing soul-baring pieces about the kids anymore, but I've still got a dozen years and hundreds of past posts (654! Wow) to read through when I need a reminder of what it was like having these little people crowd around me to play, or help them to paint, or throw a ball in the backyard. It seems like only yesterday. It seems like an eternity ago.
When they get home today, I'll give them an extra hug, and they'll look at me kind of funny like, Dad? What's up? And I'll say, you know, I was just taking a trip down memory lane, remembering what it was like when you were little. And Jack will probably shrug and Kate will probably roll her eyes. And then they'll disappear off upstairs to whatever, and I'll have to work to get them back to do something that they used to have to work to get me to do.
It would be nice to tie this all up in neat bow, but that's not going to happen. I miss those days, and yet, I've seen so many great new things occur. Jack taking an interest in things he used to have no use for, like girls. Kate doing things I used to not be able to fathom her doing, like back handsprings or burying her nose in a book at the breakfast table. They're not the little kids they used to be. I'll blink and they won't be the bigger kids they are now.
Who knows what the next week, month or years will bring? Blog or no blog, it will happen. Somehow I'll keep writing about it, even if it's only in my head.
Thursday, November 15, 2018
Monday, April 16, 2018
Baseball and Softball
It's another April, and another Spring baseball season for Jack. He's aged out of Little League, so it's all new: a private team, rather than a "town" sponsored team, with fewer "Dad" coaches and organizers, more money involved, and kids from a wide variety of area towns. Jack played on this private team last Fall, but it was all sort of rushed and haphazard; over before we even thought much about what was going on.
Things are also different for Kate, who had me as her baseball coach for the same local Little League last spring, albeit a lower, younger level than Jack. We knew that would be her last year, and didn't hold out much belief that she'd play at all this year. So it was a big surprise to us when she said she wanted to play in a local Softball league this spring, one that a number of her friends played in last year -- and that she and all of them are doing this year.
Jack had a couple of games last Sunday, but it was so absurdly cold and unpleasant that the portion of my brain that registered it has already switched off. So the season truly began -- for both! -- on Saturday, a day that dawned bright, and clear, and sunny, for the first (and last) time in quite a while.
We got Jack a ride to his games (which started at 9 a.m.) early, with another of the team's parents. He told us later he'd given Jack a bacon and egg sandwich from McDonald's that Jack ate so quickly he had to check to make sure he'd actually given it to him. Note to self, make sure Jack has enough food at breakfast time. Emily and I drove up in time for the games, enjoying the sunshine.
A while back I'd said I could keep the scorebook if necessary, and that indeed happened. Jack was the starting centerfielder and batting 9th, just like his number. He had a colorful new Westchester Academy jersey, predominantly red; his color.
For most of the two games, he played centerfield or right field. He was remarkably busy, which is both good and bad (would be nice if fewer of the opposing team's outs were long fly balls to the outfield). But he ended up catching 5 balls, and after one of the later ones I saw one coach turn to the other and say, I wish we had three of him. Something I'll remember, I think. It wasn't perfect (one he turned the wrong way on and it was over his head, another he couldn't control, so 5 of 7 on the day), but a very good day, and included a one-hop throw to the plate after a catch. He's become a really good outfielder over the years, something nice to see.
Jack also had a nice hit (after a week where I reminded him about a swing element he'd been lax on), and late in the second game came in to pitch the last two innings. With two on and nobody out the manager went to the mound and pointed to Jack in right field. He later told me Jack did a little fist pump, Yes!, which I'd missed at the time. Infielders turned two double plays behind him, and he ended up throwing 2 scoreless, one-run innings. He did little fist pumps after a play was made behind him. Fun to see. Walked one, a giant who in his previous at bats had hit towering fly balls over three different outfielders' heads, including Jack. That at-bat included Jack lobbing a rainbow Eephus pitch that was pretty close to being a strike and amused everyone. After the walk, coach said "I have no problem with that." Definitely walked the right kid.
While I was pleased with the on-field performance, even better was Jack's attitude and emotions during the game. In Little League, everyone on the team had been his friend and teammate for years. Here he only knew a couple of the kids particularly well, but still brought good humor and spirit to the clubhouse throughout, smiling and joking and rooting for teammates (OK and some talking about the videogame Fortnite). When there wasn't enough cheering after we scored, the coach said, "Are we at a funeral?" Jack said, but not in a rude way, "Well, there is a cemetery over there" (there was). Coach said, "I'm glad that somebody was paying attention."
The doubleheader ended without wins, but in good spirits, and we drove Jack and a friend back home. Where we had just enough time to get to Kate's first softball game, which she was getting a ride to with another friend. From Gymnastics class. It really does take a village.
Kate arrived wearing a pair of crazy mismatched socks; her friend's were also a somewhat garrish color. I snapped a picture which is the image I'd remember from that game: the two girls looking taller than you'd have expected in their colorful socks. Kate not wearing her visor, just as she never wanted to wear her hat in baseball. But when she did put the visor on, she pointed out "I can still scratch my head!" So she wasn't thrilled to wear it, but liked it more than a hat. I'll take it.
She started at first base, which was surprising, since you want the person who's best at catching the ball there. The team hadn't even had a practice yet, and Kate and I had only tossed it around a couple of times in the yard. She's much better at catching the ball than she used to be, and in fact, she caught the balls thrown her way during the game. Had the game gone any longer, she'd have gotten to pitch -- something she'd said a week ago "I don't want to do!" -- and was now, however, really hoping to do; upset when the game ended too soon for her to get the chance. Next time.
At the plate (batting leadoff!), she got two at bats, with a good hit to near short and a walk. Scored the first run of the year. On the bench, she joked with her friends, took her visor off as soon as she could, complained a little about her cleats (hand-me-downs, after buying a new helmet, glove and bat, we had to draw the line somewhere). After the game, they had a practice. She was clearly starting to run out of steam near the end; had been a long day, especially for a girl who had never exactly loved the sport. But she was still smiling and of good cheer.
That's what I'll take away most from the day, which ended with them both going to see a school play with friends; a really long day for both of them. Not the hits, or the catches, or the pitching (or the desire to pitch). But the smiles that were there at the beginning of the day, and during the games, and when they fell into bed relatively late at night. Neither one will play baseball or softball all their lives. But as long as they're enjoying it, hopefully it will continue for both of them for years to come.
Things are also different for Kate, who had me as her baseball coach for the same local Little League last spring, albeit a lower, younger level than Jack. We knew that would be her last year, and didn't hold out much belief that she'd play at all this year. So it was a big surprise to us when she said she wanted to play in a local Softball league this spring, one that a number of her friends played in last year -- and that she and all of them are doing this year.
Jack had a couple of games last Sunday, but it was so absurdly cold and unpleasant that the portion of my brain that registered it has already switched off. So the season truly began -- for both! -- on Saturday, a day that dawned bright, and clear, and sunny, for the first (and last) time in quite a while.
We got Jack a ride to his games (which started at 9 a.m.) early, with another of the team's parents. He told us later he'd given Jack a bacon and egg sandwich from McDonald's that Jack ate so quickly he had to check to make sure he'd actually given it to him. Note to self, make sure Jack has enough food at breakfast time. Emily and I drove up in time for the games, enjoying the sunshine.
A while back I'd said I could keep the scorebook if necessary, and that indeed happened. Jack was the starting centerfielder and batting 9th, just like his number. He had a colorful new Westchester Academy jersey, predominantly red; his color.
For most of the two games, he played centerfield or right field. He was remarkably busy, which is both good and bad (would be nice if fewer of the opposing team's outs were long fly balls to the outfield). But he ended up catching 5 balls, and after one of the later ones I saw one coach turn to the other and say, I wish we had three of him. Something I'll remember, I think. It wasn't perfect (one he turned the wrong way on and it was over his head, another he couldn't control, so 5 of 7 on the day), but a very good day, and included a one-hop throw to the plate after a catch. He's become a really good outfielder over the years, something nice to see.
Jack also had a nice hit (after a week where I reminded him about a swing element he'd been lax on), and late in the second game came in to pitch the last two innings. With two on and nobody out the manager went to the mound and pointed to Jack in right field. He later told me Jack did a little fist pump, Yes!, which I'd missed at the time. Infielders turned two double plays behind him, and he ended up throwing 2 scoreless, one-run innings. He did little fist pumps after a play was made behind him. Fun to see. Walked one, a giant who in his previous at bats had hit towering fly balls over three different outfielders' heads, including Jack. That at-bat included Jack lobbing a rainbow Eephus pitch that was pretty close to being a strike and amused everyone. After the walk, coach said "I have no problem with that." Definitely walked the right kid.
While I was pleased with the on-field performance, even better was Jack's attitude and emotions during the game. In Little League, everyone on the team had been his friend and teammate for years. Here he only knew a couple of the kids particularly well, but still brought good humor and spirit to the clubhouse throughout, smiling and joking and rooting for teammates (OK and some talking about the videogame Fortnite). When there wasn't enough cheering after we scored, the coach said, "Are we at a funeral?" Jack said, but not in a rude way, "Well, there is a cemetery over there" (there was). Coach said, "I'm glad that somebody was paying attention."
The doubleheader ended without wins, but in good spirits, and we drove Jack and a friend back home. Where we had just enough time to get to Kate's first softball game, which she was getting a ride to with another friend. From Gymnastics class. It really does take a village.
Kate arrived wearing a pair of crazy mismatched socks; her friend's were also a somewhat garrish color. I snapped a picture which is the image I'd remember from that game: the two girls looking taller than you'd have expected in their colorful socks. Kate not wearing her visor, just as she never wanted to wear her hat in baseball. But when she did put the visor on, she pointed out "I can still scratch my head!" So she wasn't thrilled to wear it, but liked it more than a hat. I'll take it.
She started at first base, which was surprising, since you want the person who's best at catching the ball there. The team hadn't even had a practice yet, and Kate and I had only tossed it around a couple of times in the yard. She's much better at catching the ball than she used to be, and in fact, she caught the balls thrown her way during the game. Had the game gone any longer, she'd have gotten to pitch -- something she'd said a week ago "I don't want to do!" -- and was now, however, really hoping to do; upset when the game ended too soon for her to get the chance. Next time.
At the plate (batting leadoff!), she got two at bats, with a good hit to near short and a walk. Scored the first run of the year. On the bench, she joked with her friends, took her visor off as soon as she could, complained a little about her cleats (hand-me-downs, after buying a new helmet, glove and bat, we had to draw the line somewhere). After the game, they had a practice. She was clearly starting to run out of steam near the end; had been a long day, especially for a girl who had never exactly loved the sport. But she was still smiling and of good cheer.
That's what I'll take away most from the day, which ended with them both going to see a school play with friends; a really long day for both of them. Not the hits, or the catches, or the pitching (or the desire to pitch). But the smiles that were there at the beginning of the day, and during the games, and when they fell into bed relatively late at night. Neither one will play baseball or softball all their lives. But as long as they're enjoying it, hopefully it will continue for both of them for years to come.
Monday, January 22, 2018
The Weekend
On Friday night, Jack had a couple of friends over to hang out in the afternoon. They drank Gatorade and played video games.
When they'd been picked up, I made us a fire. Emily got home, and we ordered pizza and watched a couple hours of the Goldbergs and laughed.
Saturday, Jack had a basketball game. We got back from that, and then piled in the car together to go to Kate's gymnastics meet. One of her best friends on the team's older brother is probably Jack's best friend. Emily and I watched the meet with the other parents, while Jack and Nic hung out, shot video, and cheered the girls on. Kate did great; better than her first one. After one routine, for which she got her highest score, a 9.0, I saw her running off the mat and looking up at us with a big smile holding nine fingers up.
Afterward, at the award ceremony, she got medals for 4th and 6th places for a couple of different events. She stood on the podium, accepted her medal, and then when all the girls were given a chance to salute with their arms high in the air, she threw her hands up high. Big smile. She clapped and smiled for her teammates when they got their awards, too.
We all went out for dinner afterward, a nice Asian stirfry where the girls chattered away happily while their medals clanked together and the boys joked and grinned about whatever 13-year-old boys joke and grin about. The adults sat and chatted and felt proud.
Sunday, Jack had another basketball game. He and the team played well -- at times he has more defensive intensity than others, and this was one of those times -- and early on he hit a jump shot, which doesn't always happen. Team didn't win (it seldom does, we're not big, or strong, or particularly basketball oriented), but played well and there were smiles afterward.
Jack and one of his basketball teammates had a baseball practice a couple hours after the basketball game ended. I took the two of them to Taco Bell. During the 40-minute drive from the game, they took turns rapping, nonsense lyrics about tacos and football and whatever came to mind.
We showed up to baseball practice a little early, held in the basketball gyms at SUNY Purchase. A couple of huge guys were there playing basketball, presumably college students. So naturally Jack and his friend decided to challenge them to a game of 2 on 2. Wasn't exactly a fair fight but the other guys took it easy on them and both had some nice driving layups against bigger opponents. Who ran easy alley-oops on their plays and dunked for baskets. But they did that for 10-15 minutes before baseball practice, grinning throughout. When it ended because it was time for baseball, I saw Jack jog off the court with a huge smile.
Sunday night, I put Kate to bed. She showed me how she had made little labels for the back of her medals, what places she finished in and what events they were for. Really cool. Then we read a chapter of Harry Potter together.
All weekend, we saw kid smiles from doing things because they were fun. Maybe there are more important things going on. But for a couple of days, it was nice to just see them happy, and proud, and being kids, playing with their friends.
When they'd been picked up, I made us a fire. Emily got home, and we ordered pizza and watched a couple hours of the Goldbergs and laughed.
Saturday, Jack had a basketball game. We got back from that, and then piled in the car together to go to Kate's gymnastics meet. One of her best friends on the team's older brother is probably Jack's best friend. Emily and I watched the meet with the other parents, while Jack and Nic hung out, shot video, and cheered the girls on. Kate did great; better than her first one. After one routine, for which she got her highest score, a 9.0, I saw her running off the mat and looking up at us with a big smile holding nine fingers up.
Afterward, at the award ceremony, she got medals for 4th and 6th places for a couple of different events. She stood on the podium, accepted her medal, and then when all the girls were given a chance to salute with their arms high in the air, she threw her hands up high. Big smile. She clapped and smiled for her teammates when they got their awards, too.
We all went out for dinner afterward, a nice Asian stirfry where the girls chattered away happily while their medals clanked together and the boys joked and grinned about whatever 13-year-old boys joke and grin about. The adults sat and chatted and felt proud.
Sunday, Jack had another basketball game. He and the team played well -- at times he has more defensive intensity than others, and this was one of those times -- and early on he hit a jump shot, which doesn't always happen. Team didn't win (it seldom does, we're not big, or strong, or particularly basketball oriented), but played well and there were smiles afterward.
Jack and one of his basketball teammates had a baseball practice a couple hours after the basketball game ended. I took the two of them to Taco Bell. During the 40-minute drive from the game, they took turns rapping, nonsense lyrics about tacos and football and whatever came to mind.
We showed up to baseball practice a little early, held in the basketball gyms at SUNY Purchase. A couple of huge guys were there playing basketball, presumably college students. So naturally Jack and his friend decided to challenge them to a game of 2 on 2. Wasn't exactly a fair fight but the other guys took it easy on them and both had some nice driving layups against bigger opponents. Who ran easy alley-oops on their plays and dunked for baskets. But they did that for 10-15 minutes before baseball practice, grinning throughout. When it ended because it was time for baseball, I saw Jack jog off the court with a huge smile.
Sunday night, I put Kate to bed. She showed me how she had made little labels for the back of her medals, what places she finished in and what events they were for. Really cool. Then we read a chapter of Harry Potter together.
All weekend, we saw kid smiles from doing things because they were fun. Maybe there are more important things going on. But for a couple of days, it was nice to just see them happy, and proud, and being kids, playing with their friends.
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
Gymnastics meet
Kate is on a gymnastics team. For the past few years she's been taking classes and attending camps of various degrees of intensity; sometimes it didn't seem like she was getting much out of it. But she's found her way into a good program with a couple of really good friends, and been going 3 times a week for the past year or so. And now she's on a team, and had her first meet last weekend.
We've had plenty of sports weekends away with Jack and his travel baseball team over the last several years, but this time Jack was just along for the ride. It was all about Kate. She was a little bit nervous as we loaded up the car and headed out. "Nervited," she said, which was a combination of nervous and excited.
We checked into our hotel, and that Nervited condition manifested as Kate talking a little bit louder than usual. But she was happy, jumping around from bed to bed and using the narrow floor space to practice her moves. We went out to dinner at a pizza place, and she noticed a Ms. Pacman machine. She wanted to go play it, and it was her weekend, so we did. Arcade games are a little tricky for kids far more used to tapping and swiping on a computer or phone screen than wielding a joystick, so we quickly spent a buck or two and returned to the table. Food and drink arrived, and then her two best friends and their families shortly after that. Jack and I ended up going back to the room while the girls and Moms chattered away, excited/nervited about the next day's competition.
Before going to bed that night (a little early for Emily and me; we were all in the same hotel room, of course, and Kate couldn't/wouldn't sleep with lights or TV on), we did a take on the "asking questions" we always do before bed. Favorite part of the day, what are you most looking forward to tomorrow, that kind of thing. Sleep did not come easy, since somebody woke up every hour or so for water, bathroom, or to say (Kate) "Is it time to get up yet?" No, Kate, it's 1 a.m. I believe Kate slept OK, although she slept late enough back at home the next morning that she was probably behind.
We were up early; she had to be at the meet stretching by 8 a.m., and it was 20 minutes away, and we had to register and everything. So at 6:15 or so Emily was up doing Kate's hair. Kate was chattering away, and then dancing in front of the mirror while brushing her teeth. I think that's what I'll remember most; Kate cheerful and excited getting ready at a ridiculously early hour. We had breakfast, packed up, and were on our way to the meet.
It was a huge community college gymnasium, with girls running and tumbling and jumping in all the various sections of the floor. Balance beam here, uneven bars there, vault in back. Difficult to tell for novice viewers (us) what was the actual event and what was a warmup, but we gradually figured it out by identifying the judges: if there were judges paying attention, it was an event; if there were coaches helping gymnasts, it was a warmup.
All the girls did all four events: vault, bars, beam and floor. I had seen some of Kate's floor routine in practice, I had seen her practice on her beam around the house. I had also seen her do vault, and knew that bars was her toughest challenge -- probably a little afraid, since for bars you're high up, you can fall on your head, and it's the most physically demanding (strength). I think; this is new to me.
Being a neophyte, I couldn't really tell what was good or bad in things like vault, beam or floor. With bars it was easier; she had to be helped at one point, and got her lowest score, and was upset afterward. But she got her highest score in beam, and that looked the best to me; a lot of the girls lost their balance and had to step off midway through and start again. Not Kate. She ended up getting an 8.85; I later learned that getting a 9.0 was required for a medal. So she was very close. And I think she was proud of herself, since when she came off she had a big smile and was happy. Thought she did well in floor, too, although I guess she could have been faster, jumped higher, something of that nature.
At the end, though, she seemed fairly happy; I told her how great she did, especially on beam and floor. They had this lengthy awards ceremony where she didn't get a medal; I didn't know why at the time. They gave participation/consolation medals to the 20-25 girls who didn't medal during the meet, which was probably unnecessary; I don't think they wanted one that way. Afterward Kate was a little sad, or maybe hungry, or both.
Maybe my expectations weren't as high as hers. I looked at it as, It was her first meet, her first-ever competitive athletic events of any kind (at times she cared about doing well in baseball, and at times she did, but I don't think it ever mattered that much to her; basketball she definitely didn't care a whit about). But she'd never been on that kind of stage with judges analyzing her every move. Bars were the only thing she struggled on. Everything else she did well on -- just not quite well enough to get a 9.0 and a medal. But she came through it by doing the best she could.
Afterward, I told her I was proud of her. How awesome, especially, she'd done on beam. How great she looked on the floor routine. I hugged her and told her I loved her.
Later that night, at home, she sent me a text from her iPad with a bunch of different emojis. It was largely indecipherable to me so I went and talked to her. She explained that she had decided she was happy and proud of herself. I said, I'm happy and proud of you too.
Next week, another meet. Hopefully she'll be less nervous and do a little bit better. Last night she practiced for a while at her various skills, and she'll have two more practices this week to work on things. Next week will be her second meet. She'll be a little more ready. And hopefully smile a little wider. Whatever: I'll still be proud.
We've had plenty of sports weekends away with Jack and his travel baseball team over the last several years, but this time Jack was just along for the ride. It was all about Kate. She was a little bit nervous as we loaded up the car and headed out. "Nervited," she said, which was a combination of nervous and excited.
We checked into our hotel, and that Nervited condition manifested as Kate talking a little bit louder than usual. But she was happy, jumping around from bed to bed and using the narrow floor space to practice her moves. We went out to dinner at a pizza place, and she noticed a Ms. Pacman machine. She wanted to go play it, and it was her weekend, so we did. Arcade games are a little tricky for kids far more used to tapping and swiping on a computer or phone screen than wielding a joystick, so we quickly spent a buck or two and returned to the table. Food and drink arrived, and then her two best friends and their families shortly after that. Jack and I ended up going back to the room while the girls and Moms chattered away, excited/nervited about the next day's competition.
Before going to bed that night (a little early for Emily and me; we were all in the same hotel room, of course, and Kate couldn't/wouldn't sleep with lights or TV on), we did a take on the "asking questions" we always do before bed. Favorite part of the day, what are you most looking forward to tomorrow, that kind of thing. Sleep did not come easy, since somebody woke up every hour or so for water, bathroom, or to say (Kate) "Is it time to get up yet?" No, Kate, it's 1 a.m. I believe Kate slept OK, although she slept late enough back at home the next morning that she was probably behind.
We were up early; she had to be at the meet stretching by 8 a.m., and it was 20 minutes away, and we had to register and everything. So at 6:15 or so Emily was up doing Kate's hair. Kate was chattering away, and then dancing in front of the mirror while brushing her teeth. I think that's what I'll remember most; Kate cheerful and excited getting ready at a ridiculously early hour. We had breakfast, packed up, and were on our way to the meet.
It was a huge community college gymnasium, with girls running and tumbling and jumping in all the various sections of the floor. Balance beam here, uneven bars there, vault in back. Difficult to tell for novice viewers (us) what was the actual event and what was a warmup, but we gradually figured it out by identifying the judges: if there were judges paying attention, it was an event; if there were coaches helping gymnasts, it was a warmup.
All the girls did all four events: vault, bars, beam and floor. I had seen some of Kate's floor routine in practice, I had seen her practice on her beam around the house. I had also seen her do vault, and knew that bars was her toughest challenge -- probably a little afraid, since for bars you're high up, you can fall on your head, and it's the most physically demanding (strength). I think; this is new to me.
Being a neophyte, I couldn't really tell what was good or bad in things like vault, beam or floor. With bars it was easier; she had to be helped at one point, and got her lowest score, and was upset afterward. But she got her highest score in beam, and that looked the best to me; a lot of the girls lost their balance and had to step off midway through and start again. Not Kate. She ended up getting an 8.85; I later learned that getting a 9.0 was required for a medal. So she was very close. And I think she was proud of herself, since when she came off she had a big smile and was happy. Thought she did well in floor, too, although I guess she could have been faster, jumped higher, something of that nature.
At the end, though, she seemed fairly happy; I told her how great she did, especially on beam and floor. They had this lengthy awards ceremony where she didn't get a medal; I didn't know why at the time. They gave participation/consolation medals to the 20-25 girls who didn't medal during the meet, which was probably unnecessary; I don't think they wanted one that way. Afterward Kate was a little sad, or maybe hungry, or both.
Maybe my expectations weren't as high as hers. I looked at it as, It was her first meet, her first-ever competitive athletic events of any kind (at times she cared about doing well in baseball, and at times she did, but I don't think it ever mattered that much to her; basketball she definitely didn't care a whit about). But she'd never been on that kind of stage with judges analyzing her every move. Bars were the only thing she struggled on. Everything else she did well on -- just not quite well enough to get a 9.0 and a medal. But she came through it by doing the best she could.
Afterward, I told her I was proud of her. How awesome, especially, she'd done on beam. How great she looked on the floor routine. I hugged her and told her I loved her.
Later that night, at home, she sent me a text from her iPad with a bunch of different emojis. It was largely indecipherable to me so I went and talked to her. She explained that she had decided she was happy and proud of herself. I said, I'm happy and proud of you too.
Next week, another meet. Hopefully she'll be less nervous and do a little bit better. Last night she practiced for a while at her various skills, and she'll have two more practices this week to work on things. Next week will be her second meet. She'll be a little more ready. And hopefully smile a little wider. Whatever: I'll still be proud.
Thursday, December 07, 2017
Actual Snuggle time
We got Kate a loft bed a while back, and that sort of put an end to us snuggling with her before bed. For a while. But at some point recently she wanted to revisit it, so Emily and I clamber up there into her bed before she goes to sleep and lie down with her and chat a little, just as we used to and probably did with Jack until he was almost 12 (occasionally still do, what the heck, time will come soon enough when he wants no part of us. Her, too.).
During football season, Emily does most of the bedtimes for Kate, but I get Wednesday and Friday, when there's time. So a little while back she introduced me to the process, which is pretty awesome.
First, she climbs up into her bed, and I stand patiently by the light switch as she arranges her blankets, pillows, and stuffed sleeping friends. When she gives me the go-ahead, I turn out the light.
Second, I climb up the ladder, all along worried I'm going to miss a step or brain myself on the ceiling.
I manage to lie down next to her, where we then take turns asking each other questions. Sample: "What's your favorite Christmas song?" "What do you like best about our living room?" "What is your least-favorite Halloween candy?" Sometimes answers lead into further questions, but there's usually some interesting insights into Kate's mind and her day.
After the questions are complete, Kate says, "OK, actual snuggle time." At this point we stop talking and close our eyes. Within a few seconds, she does a big yawn. I generally follow with a big yawn of my own.
Then she says, "Good night, Daddy." And I say Good night, Katie. I love you. And clamber down the ladder and close her door for the night.
During football season, Emily does most of the bedtimes for Kate, but I get Wednesday and Friday, when there's time. So a little while back she introduced me to the process, which is pretty awesome.
First, she climbs up into her bed, and I stand patiently by the light switch as she arranges her blankets, pillows, and stuffed sleeping friends. When she gives me the go-ahead, I turn out the light.
Second, I climb up the ladder, all along worried I'm going to miss a step or brain myself on the ceiling.
I manage to lie down next to her, where we then take turns asking each other questions. Sample: "What's your favorite Christmas song?" "What do you like best about our living room?" "What is your least-favorite Halloween candy?" Sometimes answers lead into further questions, but there's usually some interesting insights into Kate's mind and her day.
After the questions are complete, Kate says, "OK, actual snuggle time." At this point we stop talking and close our eyes. Within a few seconds, she does a big yawn. I generally follow with a big yawn of my own.
Then she says, "Good night, Daddy." And I say Good night, Katie. I love you. And clamber down the ladder and close her door for the night.
Friday, September 08, 2017
Last Little League games
It was a month ago now, and my memories are rusty. But I took notes, planning to write about it one day. And that day is now, since tomorrow Jack will probably have his first post-Little League baseball games. So I've got to get this down before it slips away.
Most of Jack's final Little League summer was played at different, larger fields. Some of the kids at age 12-13 are just too big. Lots of home runs, and then you want to give the kids the opportunity to lead and steal bases. So Lyon Park, where all of his home Little League games up until this season were played, was mostly silent. We missed it.
But we scheduled games there the last Saturday and Sunday of the summer season. Not ones that counted in our League standings. And neither team was particularly strong. But everyone needed those games, if only so we could say goodbye.
It rained Saturday morning. It really looked like we might not play at all, which would have hurt. But the rain stopped, the fields were OK. Kids arrived and jogged out to right field to have a warmup throw and catch. Like always.
At the start of the game, kids clamored around Coach Pete. "Who's starting? Am I starting?" Everyone wanted to know, everyone wanted in. "Jack's starting," said Pete, like he'd decided it right there. Maybe he did.
Jack pitched shockingly well. As in, he gave up a double down the line on the first pitch and then proceeded to get 3 outs with just 3 pitches. More of the same in the second inning, though a few more pitches in striking out two. The last one was on some kind of off-speed pitch. Curve ball? I didn't know anyone had taught him one. I asked him about it later. He said, I just threw the ball slower.
He had another 1-2-3 third inning, came off the mound with a big smile; as happy as I'd ever seen him. Slapping high fives with teammates and grinning. Not sad because it was ending, to quote Dr. Seuss. Happy because it happened.
Had a nice hit in the game, too, and the Pirates won big. We stayed a for a bit to watch the younger Pirates team play.
On Sunday, the Pirates stomped another opponent. Half the team, it seemed, hit home runs. Saying goodbye to the park they'd played at for years. When the game ended, we really said goodbye. Barbecue, cupcakes, kids running around and playing. Then we had a parents versus kids wiffle ball game, something we'd never done before. It was a beautiful, perfect day. In every way.
There was a little more Little League baseball. Went down to Myrtle Beach and played a tournament against some really good teams. Were competitive, but not the best team there and lost our first playoff game. And that was it.
But even then there were moments. Like the pelting rain delay that interrupted the game. Kids forgot that it was a close, tight game and remembered they were kids. They ran the bases in the pouring rain, set up a bowling alley with paper cups and baseballs, got soaked, went back to rooms, changed into different clothes entirely before we could finish the game. That rain delay might be one of my main memories of the Myrtle Beach experience. Kids running around having fun.
At the post-game huddle, I was remembering something that Coach Pete had said to the kids a year or two earlier, at the beginning of the season. These will always be your teammates. Whatever baseball comes next, whatever happens in your life. These will always be your teammates.
I miss it, but I remember that, too. Little league games are over, and they will be missed. But baseball isn't, and neither are teammates. And neither are memories, like the one of Jack's huge, happy grin when he came off the Lyon Park mound for the last time.
Most of Jack's final Little League summer was played at different, larger fields. Some of the kids at age 12-13 are just too big. Lots of home runs, and then you want to give the kids the opportunity to lead and steal bases. So Lyon Park, where all of his home Little League games up until this season were played, was mostly silent. We missed it.
But we scheduled games there the last Saturday and Sunday of the summer season. Not ones that counted in our League standings. And neither team was particularly strong. But everyone needed those games, if only so we could say goodbye.
It rained Saturday morning. It really looked like we might not play at all, which would have hurt. But the rain stopped, the fields were OK. Kids arrived and jogged out to right field to have a warmup throw and catch. Like always.
At the start of the game, kids clamored around Coach Pete. "Who's starting? Am I starting?" Everyone wanted to know, everyone wanted in. "Jack's starting," said Pete, like he'd decided it right there. Maybe he did.
Jack pitched shockingly well. As in, he gave up a double down the line on the first pitch and then proceeded to get 3 outs with just 3 pitches. More of the same in the second inning, though a few more pitches in striking out two. The last one was on some kind of off-speed pitch. Curve ball? I didn't know anyone had taught him one. I asked him about it later. He said, I just threw the ball slower.
He had another 1-2-3 third inning, came off the mound with a big smile; as happy as I'd ever seen him. Slapping high fives with teammates and grinning. Not sad because it was ending, to quote Dr. Seuss. Happy because it happened.
Had a nice hit in the game, too, and the Pirates won big. We stayed a for a bit to watch the younger Pirates team play.
On Sunday, the Pirates stomped another opponent. Half the team, it seemed, hit home runs. Saying goodbye to the park they'd played at for years. When the game ended, we really said goodbye. Barbecue, cupcakes, kids running around and playing. Then we had a parents versus kids wiffle ball game, something we'd never done before. It was a beautiful, perfect day. In every way.
There was a little more Little League baseball. Went down to Myrtle Beach and played a tournament against some really good teams. Were competitive, but not the best team there and lost our first playoff game. And that was it.
But even then there were moments. Like the pelting rain delay that interrupted the game. Kids forgot that it was a close, tight game and remembered they were kids. They ran the bases in the pouring rain, set up a bowling alley with paper cups and baseballs, got soaked, went back to rooms, changed into different clothes entirely before we could finish the game. That rain delay might be one of my main memories of the Myrtle Beach experience. Kids running around having fun.
At the post-game huddle, I was remembering something that Coach Pete had said to the kids a year or two earlier, at the beginning of the season. These will always be your teammates. Whatever baseball comes next, whatever happens in your life. These will always be your teammates.
I miss it, but I remember that, too. Little league games are over, and they will be missed. But baseball isn't, and neither are teammates. And neither are memories, like the one of Jack's huge, happy grin when he came off the Lyon Park mound for the last time.
Thursday, July 06, 2017
July 4th
Jack and I were under the weather on the 4th of July. He had a bad head cold, I had a head cold and a cough. So while Emily and Kate went to the pool, a barbecue, and fireworks, we had our own 4th of July celebration.
We watched Jaws. Jack had never seen it; we had long wanted to show it to him but figured it made sense to wait until he was a little older. I covered his eyes at the Ben Gardner part and the severed leg floating down to the bottom of the ocean, the parts that scared me the most when I first saw it (at age 7). He was really riveted during the last hour or so -- maybe not so much the USS Indianapolis story, but the whole back-and-forth with the shark attacking the boat.
We played a round of Mario Kart, something we used to play back when he was younger, then drifted away from, and now do again on occasion.
We ate a living room picnic dinner of pasta with meat sauce, leftovers, on chairs in front of the TV. Jack had water in a blue cup, I had a red gatorade, we each had cupcakes -- blue for him, white for me. Very patriotic.
We played cards. I taught him gin rummy, which he immediately took to, especially after winning the first game. Big smile. "This is great, let's play again!" We played Blackjack, which is lacking something with only two people and no money, but we went through an entire deck anyway. Played about 10 hands and I think we split them 5-5.
We watched a little of the Macy's 4th of July celebration on NBC. I'm not sure I ever watched it before. Wow was it terrible. Pop stars doing karaoke versions of songs you've heard every 20 minutes on the radio. Yeeks.
We dug out some sparkler fireworks that we've had for a couple of years. Went out on the back deck and lit them and ran around the yard. Well, walked fast, neither of us was at our best. But he lit mine with his and I lit his with mine and they sparkled and burned and we smiled.
At around 9 p.m., shortly before the town fireworks were to start, we washed up, closed all the windows, turned on the air conditioners, and went to bed. When I checked on him 15 minutes later, during the crashing and explosions of the fireworks less than a mile away at the high school, he was fast asleep.
We watched Jaws. Jack had never seen it; we had long wanted to show it to him but figured it made sense to wait until he was a little older. I covered his eyes at the Ben Gardner part and the severed leg floating down to the bottom of the ocean, the parts that scared me the most when I first saw it (at age 7). He was really riveted during the last hour or so -- maybe not so much the USS Indianapolis story, but the whole back-and-forth with the shark attacking the boat.
We played a round of Mario Kart, something we used to play back when he was younger, then drifted away from, and now do again on occasion.
We ate a living room picnic dinner of pasta with meat sauce, leftovers, on chairs in front of the TV. Jack had water in a blue cup, I had a red gatorade, we each had cupcakes -- blue for him, white for me. Very patriotic.
We played cards. I taught him gin rummy, which he immediately took to, especially after winning the first game. Big smile. "This is great, let's play again!" We played Blackjack, which is lacking something with only two people and no money, but we went through an entire deck anyway. Played about 10 hands and I think we split them 5-5.
We watched a little of the Macy's 4th of July celebration on NBC. I'm not sure I ever watched it before. Wow was it terrible. Pop stars doing karaoke versions of songs you've heard every 20 minutes on the radio. Yeeks.
We dug out some sparkler fireworks that we've had for a couple of years. Went out on the back deck and lit them and ran around the yard. Well, walked fast, neither of us was at our best. But he lit mine with his and I lit his with mine and they sparkled and burned and we smiled.
At around 9 p.m., shortly before the town fireworks were to start, we washed up, closed all the windows, turned on the air conditioners, and went to bed. When I checked on him 15 minutes later, during the crashing and explosions of the fireworks less than a mile away at the high school, he was fast asleep.
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