First Soccer Goal--Not one, but TWO!

My seven year old scored her first soccer goal today--and her second. With most families, that would be cause for celebration, but probably not a huge deal or relief. For me, it was both.

You see, after my son was born, we started to have some behavior problems with her (she had just turned five at the time) and her preschool teacher told me on her last day of preschool that she didn't think my daughter would be able to function in full-day kindergarten. She also told me I should have my daughter tested for autism. A consultation with my pediatrician revealed that my daughter has a very hard time dealing with transitions and is highly emotional, but he thought her preschool teacher was a bit out of line. These qualities stepped to the forefront when my daughter started soccer practice a few weeks later. 

Alicia hated putting on the shin guards (in fact, she refused to do so during about half of the eight practices). She wandered on the side of the field during most of the practice and never paid attention to what the coach told her. It was clear to every parent of the the team that my daughter wasn't really 'getting' soccer.

I wasn't going to sign her up for a soccer team in first grade, but her dad wanted her to do it and she said she would give it another try. Sure enough, she refused to wear her old shin guard/sock combo from kindergarten. She was distant during practice. Games (their first year of 'formal' games) were even worse. My daughter never ran after the ball if other girls were close to it (I assume it was she was afraid of getting kicked by the other girls) and she galloped down the field. She did not run--she galloped. Whenever one of her teammates scored, she just jumped up and down and never followed the rest of the team to the end of the field.

To be honest, I was embarrassed when we left the field after each game. I was also sad for my daughter. Every parent and child on the team knew that my daughter was the least skilled, and some of the girls would never pass the ball or throw it in Alicia's direction. They would look toward her, the coach would yell to them that she was open, and then throw/kick it toward the other teammate on the field, even if she was not open. It hurt to see that these six year olds knew not to send the ball my daughter's way, because they knew it would end up with the other team. I knew my daughter didn't seem to care, but I cared for her. 

When she said she wanted to sign up for soccer again this year "because she is really good at it," I decided to push more to get her outside practice. I enrolled her in a weekly soccer clinic for six weeks in the spring that she didn't like very much. I put her in a week-long soccer day camp in the summer. I sent her to the weekly clinic this fall, in addition to the two practices and game her team did every week. I also told her to save all her anger that builds up against her little brother and sister during the week for her soccer game at the end of the week. 

At the first practice of the season this year, I did not feel any genuine enthusiasm from other families about my daughter returning to the team. The girls are all nice, but she never really bonded with them. As the season has gone on, other parents have mentioned to me that she has gotten more aggressive this year, and that she's improved. I honestly don't think Alicia totally understood what was going on in the game mechanics until recently. When she scored that first goal today, the other parents congratulated both of us. The girls who weren't 'in' asked me if that was her first goal (she was the only one who had never scored in a game). After the second goal, it was clear that my daughter was no longer considered the weakest link on the team. I don't know that there is a weakest link at all, but girls will pass the ball to my daughter now, and I am so happy for her because she knows she's doing good.

 

A possible beginning of the end

No, I am not mourning the end of LOST 24 hours from now. Actually; I am, but that's not what this post title refers to. Today I picked up the newly updated version of The Doctors Book of Home Remedies at Costco. While briefly perusing some of the remedies, I noticed an alarming trend of giving up caffeine for better health.


I've always known that coffee was not necessarily a good thing for me and that reducing my coffee intake would probably result in me having whiter teeth. That's all fine and dandy, but giving it up to be a calmer driver and/or less stressed? That sounds counter-intuitive to me. As does giving up coffee to have milder PMS. Really? I'm telling you now, my PMS is much more bearable because of the aid coffee gives me to stay awake. 'Nuff said.

Regardless of the caffeine-bashing in these remedies, I am glad I bought the book. It has a lot of good ideas for combating colds, nausea and sore throats. I have referred to the original edition several times over the past fifteen years and know that this one will also serve me well.

But, it won't be enough to make me give up coffee.

Maybe I can cut back...

maybe...

Memories on my Daughter's Birthday

Last week, my middle child turned four years old. While I have replayed in my mind the day she was born several times over the past four years, last Tuesday was the first time I really reflected on what an amazing event her birth was. Yes, I believe the birth of all children (and especially all three of mine) is an amazing event, but this was particularly emotional for me.

My attachment to her birth has nothing to do with a preference for her; I honestly don't have a (consistent) preference between my children. No, this birth has so much meaning to me because it was a moment that almost consisted of just the two of us.

I was admitted to the hospital for induction on May 10, 2006. According to my doctor, I was in pre-eclampsia and needed to get that baby out in order for my blood pressure to return to normal. According to the machines, I was in the early stages of labor when I arrived at the hospital. Unfortunately, the pitocin wasn't really doing it's job, as I only dilated to 7.5 centimeters, where I ultimately stayed for 17 hours. In the evening, my doctor decided to put a special gel on my cervix and give me morphine, so I would sleep well and hopefully be more dilated in the morning. My husband went home with my older daughter and planned to return in the morning.

Truth be told, I enjoyed my night alone in the hospital. I had brought my Veronica Mars DVD, as well as my VHS recording of the season finale from the previous night. There was no one to wake me up or tell me to fold laundry, so things were good. At about 5:00 in the morning, the doctor started the pitocin again, but I still wasn't dilating any more or having any more hard contractions. Furthermore, the baby was still at -3, meaning that she was pretty high up inside of me. The doctor would have broken my water, but she was worried that the baby's head would come crashing down too hard against my bones, something she had seen happen before.

At 6:45, I called my husband and told him that they decided to hold off on the pitocin again, and wait for the anesthesiologist to get there and give me an epidural, which should take about an hour. He was going to drop my daughter off at day care and head over. Ten minutes later, I went to the bathroom and my water broke. The contractions were fast, hard and close together. I was screaming for help as I made my way back to my bed; I had never felt anything so painful in my entire life. The nurse arrived and said I was fully dilated. I screamed for my drugs, but they said it was too late. The doctor showed up and dialed my husband's cell, but we couldn't get through to him. I wanted to wait for him, but they told me there was no way.

The doctor was trying to fit scrubs on over her clothes and the nurse tried to fold up the bottom of the bed for labor, but my daughter was not waiting another minute; she came out with so much force that blood splattered everywhere. She came into the world with me, a nurse and a half-prepared doctor in the room. They put my darling Emma in my arms and I called my husband to tell him that I had just had the baby.

His response: "No-o."

My response: "Yes, would you like to hear her?"

Him: "Really? I'm on I-5 and the rush hour traffic is bad."

Me: "Get over here!"

Twenty minutes later, he got to meet his daughter. Now, whenever my daughter frustrates me with her stubbornness, I think about how she and I started her journey alone together. She is a strong and independent girl, from the moment she was born.

The Second Great Battle of the Ant War

In my distractedness of the past couple months, I never got to finish my tales of the ant war. I'm still not sure what kind of ants have fallen in love with our home (yes, three months later, I still see them on occasion), but I do know one thing: they sure don't care about Terro. No, these guys are too smart to fall into ant baits.

When we went to pick up friends from Vancouver B.C. in August, I was terrified of coming home from Canada with our South American guests to a home swarming with ants. I'm not that into making company feel like they're at home. In preparation, we mopped the kitchen before leaving (so there shouldn't have been any food to attract these buggers; I already knew they liked cookie crumbs from my toddler). Sure enough, when we got home from Canada at 10:00 at night, I had to pull out the Windex and spray those bad boys down. And they just kept going!

I got into the habit of sweeping them into a puddle of Windex, and for the first time in all of my ant infestations, I began to feel like a mass murderer. Watching the poor little guys climbing over their fallen comrades to escape the broom and Windex made me think I was watching a war film. All I needed was Barber's Adagio for Strings in the background and I would have been in tears for those ants.

Then I realized that they just weren't going to leave my house. Ever.

I soon found that any time I didn't sweep up every last crumb after dinner, the floor under the table would be full of ants nibbling on a couple grains of rice, or carrying away toast crumbs. Obviously, I needed to find a new solution.

Back from Hibernation

Wow. I had no idea that going out of town for a week would keep me from my Internet hobbies for two months. Okay, finding Bejeweled Blitz on facebook probably didn't help much. I mean, why type out your thoughts when you can just click and slide your mouse repeatedly while shiny things pop up on your screen? Actually, I also got tied up in the whole "beginning of school & soccer" thing for my first grader. September was also a really dark month for us, with a lot of depressing stuff happening in the area (murder, suicide, economy, etc.), but I feel like things are getting back on track now.

So here I am.

One thing I've made progress on this past month is trying to kick my coffee habit. Well, not exactly trying to kick it completely, but I'm making progress in the "don't pay for coffee everyday" goal. That feels like a huge accomplishment considering I live in the land with a coffee stand on every corner.

Amid all the Debbie Downer action of the past month, there has been one major blessing: my daughter has not had any meltdowns in school. She had such a rough time transitioning to kindergarten last year, that I was really worried when I found out her 'best' friend wasn't going to be in her class. Luckily, she has done well, telling me she's getting to meet new friends in her class, but still plays with her old friends at recess--and her teacher hasn't had to pull me aside to discuss her behavior. It just goes to show that kids will always find a way to surprise you...in a good way.

The Great Ant War

In our old house, we had ant issues about every six months. The kind we had were called odorous budding house ants, which aren't really looking for food; they're just looking for a place to settle with another of their many queens. While these ants were harmless, the thought of tiny little creatures trying to settle in my home grossed me out.

One of the things I looked forward to about moving to our current home (two and a half years ago) was not having to deal with ants every now and then. Not too long after moving in, we had an isolated incident that went away pretty quickly with Terro ant baits. These ants were a slightly bigger ant than the odorous ones we had before.

About a week ago, these other ants started to show up again. I have no idea what kind they are, because these guys were attracted by the small crumbs my one year old tends to sprinkle throughout our main floor, and they don't die when I spray Windex on them (something the bug guys told us to do with the odorous ants). Now, the Terro isn't working against them, so I am in a battle for control of my kitchen floor.

That Perfect Attendance thing

Despite hearing from another mother that her child got an 'Outstanding Attendance' certificate, I kind of decided not to push the issue of the absence on my daughter's report card (even though she did not miss a single day of school). Today, my daughter wanted to show our visiting friends around her school, and happened to see the school's office manager in the parking lot. So, what do you think I did?

That's right, I chatted about the absence on the report card that shouldn't have been there, only to learn that there was nothing that could be done about the absence. What's done is done, basically, and the attendance record can never be changed. BUT, if I had contacted the office back in June, they may have been able to do something, since the system was still 'on' the 2008-09 school year. Okay, but the office closed on June 30th, which is a day or two after I got the report card. The teacher didn't get back to me until July 1st as to who to speak to in order to fix the situation, so there was no way to reach the office beforehand.

Then, she told me that my daughter should have still gotten a certificate if she only missed one day on her report card. In the office manager's mind, that meant that a certificate must have made it to my daughter's class (in her name), but never got to her. With all the chaos from our teacher being on maternity leave, only to be replaced by the sub from Hell, that wouldn't surprise me.

Should I let this go? Most likely. Am I too indignant about right and wrong to let it go? Absolutely.

Even though I can't get her report card changed to reflect her perfect attendance, I'm getting her that darned certificate.