Superstitions

My life in the summer means high school baseball games almost every night. Our family has been zig-zagging the state over the last 6 weeks, traveling to games as far away as Pella, Knoxville and Carroll; many days leaving Boone mid-afternoon and not getting home until 11:00.

The games have been fun to watch, as the boys are having a good season, and are undefeated (so far) in our conference. It's great to see them playing well, but we know that each night is different. We see many players go from a hitting slump, to a night hitting balls that sends outfielders running to the fence. 

Baseball is truly a game of inches, and it's amazing how "mental" it can be. The boys often feel baffled as to the reason they are hitting well, or striking out repeatedly. Each player stands at the plate and has to "read" the ball as it comes out of the pitcher's hand, deciding in less than a split second if he are going to swing or not. Position of the hips, elbows, and shoulders also affect whether the hit will be an easy-to-field grounder, a lazy fly to the outfield, or a squarely hit ball that burns past the short-stop. All outside edges of the strike zone get pitched to, and it's easy for the guys to fall victim to curve balls and change-ups. 

With all those tiny little details to attend to, I see my son, his team-mates, and even the dads in the bleachers become superstitious. After a good night at the plate, they attempt to keep the luck going by wearing the same t-shirt, parking their car in a certain spot, or some other silly little ritual. Ben played with a sore wrist one day, so he had it wrapped with athletic tape. He hit the ball unusually well that game, so I wasn't surprised to see his wrist taped for several days after that.  I usually roll my eyes at these quirky behaviors, and prefer to shoot up a silent prayer each time Ben goes up to bat. A week or so ago, even I got sucked into this superstitious thinking. 

One day, in an effort to be a good mom, I got organized and prepared a big mid-day meal. Since we're gone every night, it's impossible to cook a healthy evening meal and we live on sandwiches and fast food. That day, Ben went off to his game fortified with homemade ham balls and cheesy potatoes, and he slammed the ball to the outfield nearly every time he went to bat. I was so happy for him, but silently crediting his success to the hearty pre-game meal I'd prepared. For the next several days, my faulty thinking kept me as busy as a farm wife at harvest time, slaving away to make a meal that would stick to Ben's ribs and help him  be successful at his game.

Well...as you probably predicted, there wasn't any power in the ham balls after all... or enchilada casserole, meat loaf, or chicken fettuccine alfredo. Ben's performance at his games is only a product of his motivation, mental focus and a variety of small adjustments in his batting stance and swing. 

Today I'm making french dip sandwiches for lunch...only because I want the whole family to have something nutritious before we drive to Norwalk. Ben has my prayers, and beyond that, he doesn't need my help out there.

Doggy Dental Work

The other day, I took the dogs for their regular yearly check ups. After the necessary vaccinations, heartworm tests & Heartguard medicine, I got out the checkbook and braced myself to hear the total.  Apparently, it would be only a subtotal, because the doctor noticed that Buddy's gums were swollen and inflamed, and it was likely he would need to have teeth extracted. She recommended that he come in for a thorough cleaning, which is done under general anesthetic.

Sighing, I realized that it was the right thing to do for dear old Buddy, and I decided to make the appointment for the doggy dental work and get it over with.

On Thursday, I reluctantly delivered him to the vet clinic at the appointed time. Then I watched the clock until they called a few hours later to tell me he was awake from the anesthesia, and doing well. During the procedure, they found that five of his front teeth were extremely loose and had to be pulled. The doctor also removed a mass of some kind from his gums and it was recommended it be sent to a lab for biopsy to determine whether the lump is cancerous. As they tallied the grand total and I got out the check book, I sighed, convincing myself that having the lump tested for cancer was the right thing to do.

So... several hundred dollars later, I drove home with poor Buddy beside me, looking drunk. He leaned precariously on the seat with his eyelids at half-mast, until he finally drooped over and slept the rest of the way home. The poor little guy is a bit funny looking anyway, with no tail and mismatched eyes. Now he is missing the bottom row of front teeth, and eating with his sore mouth requires more effort and tongue visibility than it used to.  He requires soft food for a few days, so I've even been making him scrambled eggs each morning!

Yes, I am a hopeless animal lover, and would do about anything for my pets. I know that part of being a pet owner is spending money on vet care. It's a little depressing, however, to think about the money we've spent on dental care, yet none of the humans in the family have been to the dentist yet this summer!

Underwater University

This picture makes me so sad. I found it on the Des Moines Register's website and the impact of the flooding at the University of Iowa really hit home. Many of the other pictures I've seen are ariel shots or pictures taken in a way that I can't quite mentally orient myself to.

I've seen the shots of the Mayflower dorm, where I lived as a freshman. The name seems a little ironic now that it seems to be sticking up out of a body of water. From the way the pictures are taken, it's hard to see where the water level is in relation to the building.

This picture, however, is the one that really gets to me. It shows an entrance to the Union that I went in and out of daily when I was in school there. That door led me to a quick cup of coffee and tables for a place to study between classes. I walked that way to buy books and other supplies at the Union book store. That was the way to get a quick lunch when I didn't want to go back to the dorm. It's hard to see such a familiar sight in such a surreal and tragic way.

One Window at a Time

Today I washed my kitchen window. 

Seems kind of lame when I see myself type those words, but that is my accomplishment for the day. One of my goals before summer is over is to get all the windows in the house washed. But the way the "lazies" have kicked in, I don't feel a bit motivated to do a window-washing marathon or tackle any other big project for that matter. Each day of the summer seems to fill itself up with exercise class, cooking, dishes, laundry, and going to the kids' baseball games. I'm loving the chance to curl up every afternoon with a good book and my two dogs.

It really isn't like me to be content with such slow paced days. What has gotten into me? You could say that I have "evolved" and matured to the point that I'm able to savor the little blessings in each day. It's more likely because spring at our house was filled with undertakings like painting the kitchen and the frenzy of cleaning out the basement, I'm burned out on big projects for now. 

I can't ignore my list though...it's the piece of notebook paper filled with projects I hoped to get accomplished  over the summer; things there doesn't seem to be any time for during the school year. Every couple days I make myself check the list and find something constructive to accomplish and check off.

So today I grabbed my new bottle of mint-scented window cleaner that I bought during a recent shopping binge at Target (no that wasn't on The List) I climbed up on the kitchen counter and tackled that dusty window that was speckled and spotted from months of rain and sink splatters. When I got done, the window looked amazing. I even vacuumed the window screen, and it was amazing how clean and clear the view of the back yard had become.

Did I continue on, and tackle another grimy window in another room? Nah. That was enough for one day. I dabbed a little window cleaner on my wrists and behind each ear and headed for the couch on the porch.

Gathering my Ducklings

I've never been afraid of storms, but I don't like it ONE BIT when severe weather is headed our way and I don't have my family with me. Just like a mother duck, when things look dangerous, I want to gather them together and tuck everybody under my wing. This is harder as my "ducklings" are growing older.

Last night a strong line of storms moved through and I was uncharacteristically nervous about it because none of my kids were home. As the dark clouds were bearing down from the west and the super doppler alerts were issuing new warnings every minute, my oldest son Joe was driving home from night class in Ankeny. A quick text confirmed that he would be home before the weather got bad here in town. 

Ben was at the high school softball game. Being a pretty independent guy, he doesn't love it when his mom tries to keep tabs on his wearabouts. I went for the subtle approach, texting, "Since the storm is moving in, let me know when you get safe inside somewhere". A few minutes later, he responded, "I'm inside." Of course, the Mother Duck in me couldn't settle for that, so I replied, "where?" Apparently I pushed too far, because I got no answer. 

Sam was at camp a half-hour northwest of here. Since checking in on him was not possible, I said a prayer that this strong line of storms would somehow miss Hidden Acres and the camp would be protected. My eyes stayed glued to the radar, as if my vigil would somehow affect the path of the storm.

Today, even though the sun is shining, I am heartsick for the families whose sons were boy scouts, and who won't be coming home from a camp in Western Iowa. Those parents would probably give about anything for an abrupt two-word text message from their son.

Later I read the  blog from the camp director at my son's camp about their experience in the storm. It confirmed what I knew in my heart all along. Sam was in good hands, and probably just as secure at camp as he would have been at home with me. Having my kids beside me during every storm just isn't possible anymore. As much as I want to,  I can't protect them from the weather or the world by tucking them under my wing.  

A Close Call at Camp

Today Perry and I took Sam to church camp. It's a wonderful place a half hour northwest of here called Hidden Acres. The camp directors are friends of ours from church, and all of our boys have loved spending time there. They love the swimming pond, climbing tower, zip line, and now there is a neat new indoor facility with a gym and swimming pool. The program is well run, and the boys come home from a week at camp with a neat new perspective on their faith.

Sam was counting the days and minutes until it was time to leave. A few months ago, we had signed him up with a a friend, which always makes the experience more comfortable and eliminates any homesickness. We even coordinated arrival times with the friend's family so the boys could get settled in to their cabin together. 

As we pulled up to the main building, Sam and I hurried to the check-in line. It was a little later than we had hoped to arrive and we imagined his friend, Storm would be wondering where we were. Sam gave his name to the counselor with the clip board. She scanned up and down the list, double checked the spelling of his name, then replied, "I don't see you on the list." My heart went cold at those words, and my brain went on mental rewind. Of course he's on the list, I registered him online, back in March, I reassured myself.  I could have kicked myself for forgetting to bring the confirmation letter, then I tried to remember where I'd put the confirmation letter... and finally wondered if I'd ever seen a confirmation letter. 

The teenage employee went back to the office to check with the director, and I tried to act calm so Sam wouldn't see that my mind was spinning in a panic. After the counselor returned, she sent me inside to Dede's office, who told me they didn't have any registration for Sam on their computer. My heart stopped beating as I imagined having to take a disappointed boy home in the car, but before I could react, she calmly told us that they would simply add his name and he could stay for camp.  She checked the list of boys in Sam's friend's cabin and God must have been smiling on us. There was one open bunk in that cabin, so Sam would even be able to say with his friend as he'd planned. I felt myself breathe again, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude at her flexibility and understanding.

We finally caught up with Storm, who had been trying to tell the counselor that he was waiting for his friend Sam (who didn't appear to exist). We explained everything to the counselor, who good naturedly welcomed my son into the group, much to my relief.

I came home and checked my computer, but found no sign of any email confirmation, so either there was a glitch with the web site or I made a mistake in some part of the online registration. I feel so stupid, realizing that a careless oversight on my part could have caused Sam to miss out on his week at church camp. Tonight I am thanking God for the way everything worked out for Sam, and feeling sure that He's got a lesson in all this for me.

Good Help is Hard to Find

I know the problem is universal, but it still frustrates me....teenagers who stay up half the night, sleep half the day, and are virtually no help around the house. When Joe is home from college, and the boys and I are all home during the day, the amount of dishes and laundry that that we go through is unbelievable. I feel like all I've done since school got out is load and unload the washer and dishwasher.

Over the years, I've tried a lot of different ways to get my kids to help around the house. Making lists, setting deadlines, giving reminders, and then making a few threats- none of these have proven to be very effective. Getting my kids to participate in the daily housework routine leaves me feeling like some sort of parole officer. Anytime Sam is asked to do a job, he always happens to be in the middle of his all-time favorite tv show (what a coincidence) and he promises to do it the minute the show is over. The problem with Disney and other cable networks he watches is the way they show marathons of the same tv show. It's nearly impossible to tell when one episode ends and the next one begins.

Ben either has a serious memory problem and forgets everything I ask him to do, or he is ignoring me. (Bets anyone??)

The last time Joe emptied the dishwasher, I heard him laughing and confessing to Perry as he unloaded, "I don't remember where this stuff goes, so I just put it anywhere". I know what he's doing...purposely trying to frustrate me by putting the measuring cups are in the cupboard with the plastic leftover containers. He's assuming that when the top to the crock pot can't be found because he put it next to the cookie sheets that I will just give up and quit asking him to help around the house.

It's early in the summer yet, so I'm going to keep insisting that they pitch in. They are members of this family, and they need to help with the dishes and laundry. I can persevere, that is, if I can find the filter basket for the coffee pot....

Out for the Summer!

 Well, it's finally here...the first day of summer vacation! The past couple of weeks have passed in a frantic blur... special end-of-the-year activities, piles of end-of-the-year reports and files to update. There never seemed to be enough hours in the day to get everything done, yet it also seemed like June 3rd would never get here. It was especially hard when I knew other schools were out for the summer and we were still plugging away.

A few days ago, I started "the list"... two lists, actually, of the projects I want to work on and things I want to get done over the summer. I'm not the kind of person who is ever content to just be lazy and "play" all summer. I like to reorganize my classroom stuff, always trying to get a better system in place for all the math manipulatives, literacy centers and science unit materials. I'm never satisfied with the way I keep records and assessments of my students' work, and each summer I try to "tweak" the forms I have used to make them more convenient, and report card time less hectic and stressful. It's fun for me to search for and collect new ideas for school activities.

My home list consists of cleaning things I don't seem to get to during the school year, organizing closets & cupboards, fixing or replacing things that are broken, trying new recipes, yard work, and shopping for specific items for the house that may take a bit of hunting to find. I also hope to get a lot of scrapbooking and reading done this summer.

This morning, my brain is in a fog, and I don't quite know what to do with myself. It may take me a while to shift down to a different daily pace. Instead of starting each day like I've been shot out of a cannon, I can take the time to putter around the house and consider the possibilities. 

Hmmm.....think I'll have another cup of coffee....