Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Half-courts


I've been meaning to get my kids to the basketball half-courts in the park across the street from our condo for over a year now. We're at the park playground often but it took me a while to realize the green netting in the distance was a water treatment plant instead of tennis courts so maybe I'm not the most tuned into sport facilities.



Daisy announced recently that basketball is really important to her fifth grade teacher and that she's so bad at it that her teacher told her to practice outside school. I was like GREAT, I just downloaded Couch to 5K so exercise is obviously part of our family routine in a new way now. You will get that ball practice.



Today, I located our cute family basketball that we had never actually used before and marched my daughters over to the park. I started Daisy off on dribbling on our way there. Violet immediately spazzed out with jealousy, grabbing the ball away from her big sister before fumbling and almost tripping over it then bouncing it against a curb so hard she took herself out. I could see we had a few things to work on.



But I haven't played basketball in a long, long time. The last time I can remember that wasn't at Chuck E. Cheese was probably a decade ago. And did I mention I'm not much of an athlete? Still, my dribbling looked like butter compared to my offspring. I gave them lots of encouragement but I also celebrated my victory loudly from the half courts when I beat them in PIG. In your face, kids.



Later, on a walk, Daisy turned to me, "So you got that good from watching TV?"


I didn't know what she was talking about but I liked the sound of her question . . . so good at what?


"Basketball!"


Oh I didn't learn that from TV! Just played growing up. Not on a team. Just for fun.


Daisy clarified, "I thought you would stink. But you're really good. You make a lot of baskets."


I hesitated but realized it was probably the last time in her life she would think her mom was a good athlete. Why ruin the moment? Like mother, like daughter.


Yeah, all it takes is practice.







Sunday, February 9, 2014

Belly Shot


I so regret not making a plaster of my pregnant belly.




The possibilities are amazing.

























I tried to prevent Tabitha from having the same regret but she was deaf to my concerns. Not surprising, since Tabitha's friends weren't allowed to even give her a baby shower. We did cooperate with her wishes at our gathering at Amy's this weekend. No delicious baby food tasting games or hilarious guessing the girth of the pregnant girl. It was so not a baby shower that when a few presents were brought out, Quinn turned to me, "But I thought this wasn't a baby shower."



My secret goal this weekend was to capture Tabitha's belly. She's far enough along that you can see the baby moving. And even though late pregnancy seems like it will never end when you go through it, it's really a brief bright moment in life. But Tabitha, who told me she was offended when I described her as glowy, will not have any fuss around Boy, what she wants us to call him for now.



So maybe you can understand why I was thrilled to capture this intimate moment.






Getting a chance to feel Tabitha's belly - and I don't want to brag but there might have been some under the shirt action - was equivalent in normal people's standards to getting to plaster her belly and decorate it with a symbolic montage of each stage of her pregnancy, as well as the love story that made this baby possible, while breaking into spontaneous, communal song celebrating our feelings about Boy. It was that touching.





Welcome, Boy <3






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Sunday, February 2, 2014

Texts from Violet


Mommy I'm drawing unicorns right now.
What are you doing right now mommy?

I'm thinking about you drawing unicorns. 
My phone may lose power today so tell daddy I'll pick you up at 8:30 

OK love you and why?

I forgot the charger. Love u too

Mommy you mean you left the charger here?

No at home in sv

Oh you at work mama

Yes I'm at work :) I'll pick u up at 8:30

Oh I love you and how long until 8:30

7 hours