Football

Owen loves football. I have often said that if you cut Ryan open, he would bleed taxes. Well, Owen would bleed football. He loves to play football, he loves to watch football, he loves to talk football. Several years ago we let him play flag football with the Homeschool Football League. It was a wonderful organization. However, over time, the practice location kept getting moved further and further away and due to other commitments, Owen quit playing. He begged every year to play contact football. I was worried over his size and every year the practice days conflicted with gymnastics. But this year, he had some other friends that were playing in the league and told us that the practice was on Tuesday and Thursday which would not interfere with gymnastics at all. After much begging (on Owen's & Ryan's part) I agreed we would try it just ONCE! I have to say, I am still impressed with the league and as always I am very impressed by Owen. He really got out there and did his best. He was one of the few that the coach did not already know. It was really cool to watch the transformation of being on the sidelines to being part of the "team." This is a picture of Owen before the first game:
Owen is the one nearly doing a split while in position for the ball to be hiked. We could always tell which one was one - the one nearly on the ground:

I love this picture. I don't exactly know why; that is Owen #66. They just seem so "manly":

This is a picture after the game:

The football season is over now. The conference game was Saturday; after being ranked 2nd all season, they came in 4th in the play-offs. Ryan and I were out of town and missed the game. We got home Sunday to a very disappointed boy. He didn't take the loss like a man. He took the loss like a broken-hearted 11 year old boy - he wept and wept and wept and wept. He wept for the lost game, he wept because we had missed it, he wept because the season was over. Then, he felt much better and all was well in our little corner of the world.

A little of this and a little of that

Well, I am still planning on posting the details of Ian's party. I cannot believe it has been a week. This weekend was just as busy as last. Friday we had co-op (it was my week to teach), subtesting (for Emily and Owen's black belt testing), and Saturday we had Owen's football game. All of those activities were consecutively boom, boom, boom. We didn't get home until midnight Friday night and then had to leave at 9:45 the next morning to go to the game. The Father/Son campout was this weekend as well. This is something my boys (all three of them) look forward to all year. However, in our "something has got to give" campaign; that was what got cut. Unfortunately, this was more for Owen's benefit than Ian's. Ian carried the longer lasting disappointment. So, because we had gotten home so late on Friday night, we decided to postpone our Friday Family night to Saturday night so that we could enjoy it a little more. After the game on Saturday, we were able to come back home. After a few stops, we got home around 4. We decided to play a game of kickball before supper. My dad and the little girl across the road made the teams 4 against 4. We had a great time. Then, we came in for pizza and movies. On Friday's we eat on the floor and sleep all together on a big mattress on the middle of the living room floor. We bought a projector last year and watch our bedtime movie on the wall. Well, Ian's movie was scratched so we were just messing around after supper and then the kids went to get on their pj's and Ryan went to bake the cookies (not from scratch - just pull of the paper and place on the pan). Anyway, Ian had gotten out his bubble blower thing but it wouldn't work. He got out a different bottle and started blowing bubbles. His bottle was one of the one's that doesn't spill. The new bottle he spilt all over the floor in just opening it. So, we poured out his old bubble stuff and put in the new. Ryan had my ipod playing in the kitchen and I handed the bubble bottle back to him. Rather than taking the bottle, he stood there ready to attack bubbles. So, I did a very uncharacteristic thing for me - I blew bubbles! I blew and blew and blew. My sweet baby popped and popped and popped. He did chops, he did punches, he did kicks, he tried to eat them, he blocked them. We blew and popped bubbles for 20 minutes. I know to most of you are probably thinking, "yeah, so?" At that moment, with Ian in the kitchen, I was the kind of mother I WANT to be. I didn't fuss about the bubble stuff getting on the floor, I didn't blow once or twice and then quit, I didn't give suggestions for him to do something other than what he was doing. We just blew bubbles. I felt like my heart would burst. I cannot exactly identify why - if it is because he is my baby and I am not sure how I feel about that, and he is getting so big; if it was because my family was near and we were just us being us; if it was at that moment, I felt so undeniably blessed. I guess it was a combination of all of those things. I know for that moment, I wanted to pause time. I wanted to hold on so tight to all of them and never let go. Then Ryan burst into my daydreaming and says "the cookies are ready to decorate." Ian so sweetly pats me on the arm, gives me a wink and says "good blowin', ma" and runs off to argue over which color sprinkle goes on which cookie and who gets to decorate how many. Where does the time go?!