Take me out to the ballgame . . .

Kicking back at Chase's ballgame last night, I hear some women giggling behind me. I wasn't really paying attention until one of the women yelled, "Hey, LeeAnn! Did you teach Chase those moves?" Chase was positioned in the outfield (center field), his least favorite position. I glance back there and catch him disco dancing. John Travolta-style.

It's his first year at kid-pitch. For those who haven't experience that, yet, it generally means few hits so the fielders get kind of bored. As I continued to watch, Chase transitioned to the stirring-the-pot move. Since the rest of us heard no music, one has to wonder what goes on in his head. Oh well, at least he was awake and also not drawing pictures in the dirt like he did during his t-ball year. Dancing could be an improvement, right?

Then, next inning, he was up to bat, again. Two strikes, three balls. One kid on 3rd. Feel the tension? I sure did. The pitcher gave him the stare, wound up, let 'er rip . . .POW! Chase knocked it clear to the grassy field. The crowd is cheering. Chase rounds first. The first base coach yells for him to keep going. Chase is on his way to 2nd. The outfield gets the ball and it looks like the 2nd baseman may get it before Chase gets there. The coach yells, "Go back! Go back!" Chase hesitates, looks back, starts to turn back to first. But is it too late? The fielder throws the ball to the first baseman. Chase is stuck between bases when . . . the first baseman misses the ball! The coach yells, "Run! Run to 2nd!"

After a few minutes of confusion, Chase made it to second. Which was, by the way, his very first double.

Second grade musical

This was Chase's 2nd set of lines. I sort of forgot my camera had video capabilities during the first set of lines. It is hard to hear him because the little boy next to me started crying while Chase was delivering his part.

After he perfectly delivered his first set of lines the audience all sort of chuckled. I'm sure it was because he is just so cute. However, that is Chase's big pet-peeve. He recently told me he doesn't like to talk to grown ups because they all think he's cute. (Life is hard.)

Those 3 little words. They mean so much.

Recently, Paul and I had a disagreement over the geothermal heater. After last month's higher than typical electric bill, I suggested that geothermal wasn't working properly. He respectfully disagreed. Paul felt that February/March ground is colder than any other month which caused a higher than normal electric bill.

I know that this is about as boring a topic as you can read on the internet, right? But anyone reading who is married understands that these disagreements are pretty typical.

Yesterday the electric bill came in astronomically high. Paul called an HVAC company who will be looking into the geothermal next week. We still have no results.

But for this reason, and I guess many other small, insignificant reasons, I was just kind of crabby yesterday. I told Paul this. I also mentioned that I was a bit irritated with him because I'd been telling him something was wrong with the geothermal and he wouldn't listen to me. I figured I'd pushed him too far when he sort of glared at me for a bit.

That's when it happened. He said those three little words that make any woman's heart go all a-flutter, "You were right."

Why? What three words were you expecting?

Smoky Mountain memories

We have just returned from a trip to the Smoky Mountains. It's beautiful. Bobbie planned our trip, mostly I think so she could show her grandsons where she was born and from where her people come. The boys loved it, but I must say we grown-ups enjoyed ourselves as well. At least after our muscles stopped screaming at us.

The first full day, Thursday, we planned to bike around the scenic trail at Cades Cove. It is an 11 mile loop. The first question Paul asked was, "Is it hilly?" The answer he received (from both Bobbie and Kelli) was that it is mostly flat with some hills at the back of the loop. So 11 miles didn't seem too bad. Here might be a good time to mention that Bobbie and Kelli had both driven the loop. In cars. I suppose one can't truly judge the grade too well when one is seated comfortably in their vehicle. I guess I'll just admit it - we walked our bikes up quite a few hills. After about 6 miles or so, we came to the visitor's center and Grist Mill. It was a good place to rest a while, look around and let the boys play at the creek. So when we had all gotten off of our bikes and George got the chance to look over the map he noted (aloud), "It's all uphill from here." You could almost hear the morale deflating from our bunch - with a big, giant "whoooosh." Since I'm admitting things I'll just tell the truth. We sent Paul on ahead on his bike so he could come rescue the rest of us in the Suburban.

While waiting for Paul, Bobbie and I thought we could make it a bit further with the boys, and we attempted just that. Since I was the leader of our crew, it was a bit stop and go. Not only to let the cars pass us, but also because I imagined everything that looked black was most likely a bear. (So Micah get's his wariness from me, ok?)

Speaking of, I'm surprised at all that we even got Micah out there on that bike ride. On the car ride to Tennessee, Micah had a LOT of questions about bears. He convinced himself that bears eat human flesh. I sort of figured he'd want to hang around inside the cabin the whole vacation.

On Friday, we spent the day at Dollywood. That was surprisingly nice. The cleanliness and friendliness sort of put Kings Island to shame.

Saturday we really packed a lot in. We started the morning with a tour of the Forbidden Caverns. These caves wind around under a mountain to a depth of 600 feet below ground level. We learned a lot about caves, bats and moonshine. Chase got to be at the beginning of the group, due to his asthma. So when the tour guide pointed out the little bats (the size of a McDonald's chicken nugget), Chase told her, "I don't believe I know the name of those bats." His class just did a study on bats.

After our tour, we stopped by a trout farm so the boys could fish for our lunch. They each caught a 1 - 1.5 pound trout, so we had plenty of food. Though the boys, themselves, preferred a cheeseburger. None of us had to catch a cow, thankfully.

To finish the day, the boys were able to race at the NASCAR Speedpark. To hear the boys tell it, it was great fun. I, personally, wouldn't know. Bobbie and I used our time wisely (we shopped).

While we were at the cabin, the boys (Micah and Chase with their cousin, Alex) climbed up and down the mountain. They placed a flag at the top. They hunted bears. They searched for mummies and ghosts. As Chase said, they were "always up for an adventure."

While they found no bears (for which I'm grateful), nor any ghosts or mummies, adventure was definitely achieved.

Groundhog day

We've experienced MAJOR CATASTROPHE tonight. After a nice day (Micah's basketball team won the championship at the tournament, tonight - hard to believe with a 1-9 regular season status), the boys decided to play outside until the last ray of sun shone. When darkness began to creep in, I opened the door to call the boys in and was met with screaming hysterics.

"Mommy! Come quick! Dahlia has a baby groundhog and she won't let it go!" (For anyone reading this who doesn't know, Dahlia is our 14 year old dog. Don't miss the key words there - 14 years old. I mean to tell you, the girl takes a full minute to sit down these days not to mention getting back up again.)

Well, what was I to do? I didn't even have my shoes on. There was no way I could have gotten myself shod and run the 100 yards or so in time. And if I had, miraculously, gotten myself there in time - then what? Do you think Dahlia would have obediently dropped the groundhog and licked it's wounds? (In case you don't know the answer to that, ask my mom. She lost a chicken or two at the teeth of my sweet pooch. She's also convinced that my girl killed her neighbor's goat. But I don't believe her. And ok, there's the time she chased the cows. And Mom's cat. Oh, and she kind of bullied Mom's dog a little, too.)

So anyway, I yelled for the boys to just come inside. I figured mending broken hearts was easier than interceding with my dog and her prey.

When they finally did get inside, they were visibly upset. Apparently, there was a nest of baby groundhogs. Micah says there were about five of them, but Chase maintains that there were no less than eight. Chase said Dahlia "chomped all of them, gulped some of them down and left blood everywhere." Micah said the babies were all screaming. Both boys said they tried to get Dahlia to stop and she wouldn't.

Yikes.

Chase is the most upset. He vowed never to hug Dahlia again. Again if anyone doesn't know, Chase LOVES Dahlia. He has all of his life. Sometimes he loves her too much (you know that old Mellencamp song, "sometimes love don't feel like should, you make it hurt so good." Mellencamp probably had an entirely different meaning - but I think that is how Dahlia must feel about Chase, sometimes). Now Chase is disenchanted with Dahlia. I guess he feels betrayed by her.

Bless their little hearts. I feel bad for the babies, too - I'm glad I didn't see it happen. I suppose this is the boys' first brush with brutality. It's a harsh and vicious world out there.

So Dahlia is in the doghouse (figuratively, we don't actually have a real one).

Tinsel Teeth

If only for the reason to use our free kid's meal Valentines before it's too late, we decided to dine at Frisch's last week. Well, only one evening last week. And, ok, I just love those fish sandwiches on rye buns, not to mention the coconut cream pie. (Hello, Diet, old friend. Can't say I've missed you much.)

During our dinner we got to discussing how both boys will need braces as soon as they turn 12. Micah's little eyes turned as big as the plate holding his cheeseburger. "I don't want braces. I like my teeth the way they are." Then before we could respond to that, "Do they have to drill holes in the front of my teeth to put the braces in?" And Chase wondered, with a suspicious glint in his eye, "Just what are 'braces,' anyway?"

So I tried to explain how braces work and that drilling holes is not part of the process. Paul may not have helped quell Micah's anxieties when he suggested that he would keep a large magnet on hand and whenever he wanted the boys to come he would pull out his magnet.

I'm not sure how many times during our dinner Micah told us that he thinks his teeth are just fine the way they are and he likes his teeth. A lot.

I hope that during these next three years, orthodontists will have perfected the stress-free, pain-free teeth straightening method. Because, frankly, you have to catch Micah first and then hold him down for just a booster shot - and you know how quickly those are administered. I can't imagine how an orthodontist would hold him down to install braces.

Sometimes you're the windshield; sometimes you're the bug

Is there anyone that has gone through life without encountering the dreaded bully? Most likely not, but if so - feel free to comment about it (or anything).

Unfortunately, Micah encountered some bullying last week during recess. At least that is my motherly opinion. (I have gotten other opinions that what occurred could not be classified as bullying.) Micah likes to play basketball at recess and there is only one goal. Unfortunately another 3rd grader that enjoys playing basketball, does not like for Micah to join in. Therefore he has told Micah that he cannot play. A few times. It has hurt my boy's feelings.

And yet, I can't understand it. In my 35 year old mind I wonder, 'why does he listen to this kid?' However, my 9 year old mind probably would have not been so bold. He most likely inherited his meekness from me. (Don't laugh! I AM meek.)

Later, on Sunday night, Chase complained to me about his back hurting. Apparently one of his friends at church knocked him down. Oh yeah, after choking him. Last week this friend made bruises on Chase's arm. The thing is, this kid genuinely likes Chase. I think he's just a roughhouser. But Chase complained and whined about how much his friend hurt him.

I suppose I just sort of snapped. I asked him why he put up with it if it hurt so much. I said, "If it were me, I would tell him, 'Friend, either take your hands off of me or I will knock your lights out.' And then, if he didn't take his hands off of me, I would knock his lights out." Chase giggled, but Micah was appalled: "At CHURCH?!?" he asked. (Parental disclaimer: I don't really think Chase has this in him. Furthermore, Paul told me it was really bad advice.)

But I didn't stop there. "And, Micah! Why on earth do you let other kids tell you what you can and can't do? If I wanted to play basketball and some kid said I can't, I would ask him, 'who made you the boss of the basketball court?' And I'd play anyway!" Like I said, there was a definite snapping point. Micah liked it, though. He and Chase thought Mommy was being extra funny. The Big, Bad Mommy. I guess they've heard 8 or 9 years of "Play nice" and "be respectful" and "Staggs' aren't rude." So this was kind of a shock.

Anyway, hopefully it worked. Micah reported that he played basketball today, even after the "bully" said he couldn't. Eventually, the other kids just included him on their team. He was nicer about it, though. He said when the other kid told him to move somewhere else, Micah's answer was, "No, thanks." I like that. Polite but firm. That's my boy.

Who knows what the future of recess brings? And for that matter if my friend from church will wonder why I suggested that my son knock her son's lights out.

Hurry, hurry!

OK, I'll admit it. I got a speeding ticket last Saturday. I thought I had time to bring Chase home from Micah's basketball game, feed him lunch and get him to baseball practice in plenty of time. I was so wrong.

On the way to baseball practice, a lady pulled out in front of me on Main Street and since she was going slow and I was in a hurry, I thought I could speed up and get around her. Bad idea. Mr. Policeman was coming from the other direction and when he passed us, I glanced in my rearview mirror and, yup, he did a u-ey. He pulled over the other car AND me (I guess she wasn't going so slow, after all).

Sitting in the parking lot of a local restaurant, I hand over my driver's license and proof of insurance. Mr. Policeman asks where I'm going in such a hurry. It sure does sound silly to admit that I'm running late for my son's baseball practice. Mr. Policeman asks if my son is in the car with me. Yes, he is, I answer. Mr. Policeman sticks his head in the driver's side window to peer into the back seat. There sits Chase, grossly absorbed into his Nintendo DS. That child did not even glance up! Mr. Policeman heads back to his cruiser to write up my ticket. Yippee.

About 6 or 7 minutes pass, and Chase looks up to see that, for some reason, we are sitting in a restaurant parking lot. He also notices that it is 2:58 and baseball practice, he knows, is supposed to start at 3:00. "Mommy! We have to be at baseball at 3:00" he says. "Well, we're not going to make it" I reply. "What are we waiting for?" Chase asks. "Oh, we're justing waiting for Mommy to get her speeding ticket" was my answer. "Oh. Okay." Chase responds.

I declare - you could practically jump up and down on that boy and if he is playing his Nintendo DS, I don't think he'd notice.

Oh well. At least it wasn't Micah with me. I don't think I could have handled all the preaching I would have gotten from the backseat.

Yaaawwwwn. . .

We hit a milestone this weekend. Micah had his very first (non-family) sleepover. His basketball coach invited the team to his home for a s'mores-making, movie-watching all-nighter. Needless to say, I pulled my very own all-nighter, mom-style, complete with worrying, what-iffing, and praying.

Before I left him, I perused the movies slated for their enjoyment and they were all sports-related, motivational films. All were G and PG except for one PG-13. I was feeling pretty comfortable with that, kind of hoping that they would bypass the PG-13 one. Guess which one they watched first.

Micah reports that he did not sleep at all, except for maybe 4 minutes. But when Paul arrived to pick Micah up, Micah and the rest of the boys were still asleep (of course, I sent Paul to pick him up at 7:00 a.m.).

He says he had a blast, so I'm glad he went (yawn). Even if he is surlier than usual (yawn).


Responsibility update: Micah has now gone 3 entire weeks without forgetting a single school assignment earning a family bowling trip. Whenever we can fit that in, between basketball and baseball weekends.

May the force be with you

I'm sure everyone knows by now that Chase had just the most horrible week. Yes, we did take a trip to the ER very early Sunday morning, and by "Sunday morning," what I really mean is the middle of the night. Driving through the ghetto was particularly interesting. (Really, can't Cincinnati do something about that? All of our hospitals are located right in the heart of gang-domain. And there I was in my black Suburban, probably the most preferred vehicle of gangbangers, just praying there was enough light to see all the mud caked on the sides of my car. "Hello! Not a rival, here! Just a woman that really needs a vehicle with 4-wheel drive!" Anyway . . .).

But the whole week was pretty bad. He'd have these terrible asthma attacks followed by moments where he just wanted to run and play. Wednesday night he was up most of the night coughing and having difficulty breathing. Therefore I decided that he would not have to attend school on Thursday. He seemed comforted by that.

Thursday morning (as I was preparing to take Micah to school) Darth Vader comes running through the house, wielding his light saber. Then Darth begins to attempt to engage Micah in a battle.

Are you kidding me?

"If you are well enough to be Darth Vader, then you are well enough for school!" (me)

"Well, I didn't know that!" (Chase)

Seriously, do I need to write these rules down somewhere?

Monster Jam Spectacular

Today the boys created monster trucks and held a Monster Jam. Top photo: Chase's creation set in a wall of fire (notice the smoke pluming out behind). Bottom photo: Micah's creation in an arena (notice the crowds of people in attendance).

If the carrot was in your ear, then don't eat it

As the words left my mouth, I was struck with wonderment. Who ever says things like that? Who ever has the opportunity to?

Moms do, apparently.


Ok, now for the Micah update:
He earned a small LEGO set!! Yep, an entire week went by without forgetting one single school assignment. I am so proud. Of course, now we are dealing with Micah's reasoning that he should be able to earn a new LEGO set a week. (Um, yeah, we need to stretch it out to a month-long project, now.)

Apples of my eye

"Ah, the sweet smell of apple, I haven't tasted you in so long." - Chase Staggs (2/6/09)

Updates:

I've met with Micah's teacher and the gifted coordinator about Micah's responsibility issues. We have new tools in place: a checklist next to the door and a goal of one week of turning everything in. We'll see how next week goes (cross your fingers). He's excited about it. We've turned it into a science experiment, per the advice of his GC. We are monitoring how it goes a week at a time and if it doesn't, then we try something new. We will compare notes to decide which methods work best. Micah is the ultimate decision maker. Reaching goals = prize of Micah's choosing (within reason).

Chase was the author of "The New Bully in Town." Starbucks gift cards coming soon.

It's all (not so) fun and games

Last Saturday was Micah's basketball game. His team has yet to win a game. They've come so close, but still no win. It was rather silly to even have a basketball game Saturday because the week before everyone was snowed and iced in and unable to practice. But the game must go on!

Not one single boy on that team played well, Saturday. No one seemed to know what they were doing out on the court. Micah included. On two separate occasions the ball practically reached out and grabbed him and he missed it, both times. He let his guy get away from him several times. He only attempted one shot (and missed).

Why is that so hard for a parent to watch? I know it's not just me because I've heard other parents 1) yell at their kid during and after games and 2) make excuses for why their kid didn't play perfectly.

Anyway, on the second time the ball whizzed past Micah, I heard this angry sounding woman yell out, "Watch the ball, Micah!" And then Micah looked up in the stands at me and nodded, sullenly. Yes, folks, it was me, Mommy, yelling rudely and without compassion.

Not even one minute later, Micah's guy that he was supposed to be guarding got loose with the ball and scored. How my heart fell when Micah looked up in the stands at me, again, with that broken look.

Please, don't let me be that mom. Not the kind of mom that gets mad if her child doesn't outscore, outperform, outdo everyone else.

This is a game. There are plenty of opportunities in life to fail, to hurt. Not this, though. It is a game. Wasn't it invented for pleasure?

Well the game ended. Boy did it end. 25-3.

Micah doesn't know if he wants to play basketball anymore. How awful. I hope it's not because of me. I apologized to him. Then I let him know that all that matters in games is that he has fun and tries his best. But mostly has fun.

He said "ok," but he didn't say it with much conviction.

This mom stuff - it's not for wimps.

No TV? Aaack!

As most everyone else has experienced, we've undergone a major winter storm this week. First 4" of snow, followed by 1" of ice, then topped off by another 3" of snow. It is beautiful.

The boys haven't been to school since Monday (did I mention that today is Friday?). We were blocked in for the first couple of days by several trees down in our driveway. And since the 1" of ice, their outside time has been limited due to the hazard of unstable trees. On Tuesday, we lost our t.v. reception. Ah, the joys of satellite.

So, you see where I'm going with this. No school, very little outside time, stuck at home, NO TV. Major motion picture companies could make millions off of the horror this strikes into a mom's heart.

However (and quite surprisingly) we've had such a lovely week. We've played games, put together puzzles, read, run around the house pretending to be Luke Skywalker and some Storm Troopers. You should see the LEGO creations.

I've amassed quite a collection of custom comic books this week. One in particular was about a Baby vs. a Bully, whereupon in an unexpected ending the Baby takes down the Bully and then proclaims, "There's a NEW Bully in town." ($5 Starbucks gift card to the first person to name the author of that comic book).

The government should have done studies in my house this week. Maybe then they'd relax a bit about the big digital switch. Are you ready? (Whatever).

What happened last week

It's been a while since I've posted a new blog. Either things are currently really boring or really busy, I haven't decided which. As it is, I have no one-good story to tell this time. Just a few updates.

Micah's quest to be more responsible has been, well, frustrating. Last Thursday it was warm - at least in the 40s - and I decided to take the boys to the park after school. They were allowed to bring their scooters since I was walking Dahlia on the trail. When we got to the park, Micah had his scooter but not his helmet and therefore was not able to ride. Needless to say, he made the trip to the park almost unbearable! How much enjoyment can one get from a walk when one has to listen to stomping and whining, anyway? Sadly, the afternoon got worse.

When we got home the boys were to do their homework while I fixed dinner. Micah looked through his bookbag and was horrified to find that he had forgotten to bring home his homework. His first reaction was to blame the substitute for not reminding him to pack it up at the end of the day. And while he makes a good point that a disruption of normalcy can make one forget things, let's face it - this sort of thing happens all too often with Micah. Unfortunately this was the 3rd time this month he'd not had his homework to turn in for some reason or another and that means he will not participate in the school's "Bulldog Club." The Bulldog Club is a special time for kids who 1) behave, and 2) do their homework. And if they stay in it all year, the kids earn a T-shirt at the end of the year. Micah has NEVER missed out on a Bulldog Club and is devastated (and I mean devastated - really, tears and all) that he will miss out on it this month. I, too, am heartbroken for him. I sure hope he starts getting the hang of this responsibility thing soon!

On another note, Chase's Sunday School teacher (Mrs. Sue) called us tonight. What a delightful woman - really! She wanted to remind Chase to read his Bible this evening. He was in the bathroom and couldn't talk, so I told her I'd pass the message along. Mrs. Sue said that before she called us she called Katie, another of her students. Katie asked, "Have you talked to Chase, yet?" Mrs. Sue responded that no, she hadn't gotten to Chase yet. He was further down the list. Katie said, "Be sure to tell him that I miss him, when you do talk to him." (I know it's mean, but I just HAD to tell Chase that. How can you pass up an opportunity like that?) Chase slapped his hand to his forehead and said, "Aaargh! I HATE it when she says things like that!" (tee-hee! Ah, Chase - the chick magnet).

I'll end with this last bit - because it just epitomizes the typical male, in my opinion. Saturday night I visited with friends and made an Italian sausage lasagna to take with me. I thought it'd be just as easy to double the recipe so I could have an extra to serve on Sunday after church - especially since we'd be having one of Micah's friends over. I put one in the oven and the other in the refrigerator. Paul came home while the one was baking and commented on how good it smelled and how unfair it was that I was taking it to other people. I told him he was in luck, that there was an extra one and we'd eat it on Sunday. When I got home that night he asked me how my friends enjoyed the lasagna. I said everyone like it and that he would, too. Paul answered that he had already eaten a piece and served it up to the kids for dinner as well. I didn't quite know what to say. "Paul. I hadn't COOKED that lasagna yet. Remember? I told you we'd have it on Sunday." He said he thought it seemed a little crunchy and crumbly.

Men!

The Enabling Mommy

This past Tuesday evening, Micah was measuring with meters, centimeters and decimeters for math homework.When he had completed it, he handed it to me to look over - as is our custom. Sadly, I must admit I have no idea how to measure in anything other than inches, feet and (sometimes) yards. (Drat that confounded metric system! Doesn't it know to stay out of the U.S.?) Anyway, I asked Paul to help and together we were able to check over Micah's homework.

It was time to set the table for supper and I didn't want Micah's homework to get gloppy so I put it away in his bookbag (let the ominous background music start now).

Wednesday, Micah brought home a note from his teacher saying that his homework was not turned in, nor any of the other various folders for which he is responsible and that he would not be able to participate in recess until all is turned in. When I asked Micah why he did not turn in his requirements he answered that he could not find them. They were not in his bookbag.

Well! I knew differently! I did not leave that job to my (perfectly capable) son. No sir, I placed it in his bookbag, myself. So after Micah and I searched the house high and low, and the car, I sent off an email to his teacher stating that I had put his homework in his bag and I am sure it made it to school and could she please have Micah check everywhere at school, again?

Thursday morning came around and Micah's teacher replied to my email. Micah had checked all around and had not located his missing items. I searched the house (again), then went to school. Now, before you lecture me on being too intrusive, Thursday happens to be the day I regularly volunteer at the school. So I was going anyway.

I checked the office and the lost and found (with no luck) before heading to Micah's classroom. Lo and behold, there on the shelf above the bookbags out in the hallway are all of Micah's missing items - plain as day. I showed Micah's teacher - who was bewildered. She said Micah had looked around for two days without finding his items. We decided that we should give him another chance to find his things and left everything lying where it was. At that point, his teacher asked if I regularly packed his bookbag. "Er, uh, I mean . . ."

OK. Point taken. I THOUGHT I was helping my kids out, but truth be told, I am teaching them to be dependent on me. Well, no more! We are going to be one mighty independent and organized household.

Boy, it's hard, though. This morning (Friday), I saw his homework lying on the bench in the mudroom before we walked out for school. I fought every urge to place it in his bag. I watched him pick up his bag and go outside without his homework (man, it physically hurt to watch that). I will admit, I told Micah to check the mudroom before we drove away. Paul says I should have said nothing. I think he's right - it's as hard a lesson for me as it is for Micah.

I have to add this, though. As I'm writing, Paul and Micah just came home from his basketball practice. Paul reports that Micah walked out of the house without his coat, basketball or dribbling report. Yup, we've a long road ahead of us.

Ain't it great? Chase is eight!

Chase celebrated his 8th birthday today! (I'll try not to get on my "how did this happen? where is my baby?" tangent.)

Before my story of his birthday begins, I just have to tell this other, shorter story because it's so darn cute. Bobbie and George took him out for his special time Saturday and let him pick out his birthday present. He chose a LEGO set that was more than they planned to pay. Bobbie tried to talk him into other toys, but Chase apparently begged and pleaded for this particular LEGO set. So, being grandparents, they bought it for him. Bobbie told me that while standing in line Chase said, "I just can't believe I am actually holding this in my hands!"

See? Isn't he just the cutest little thing?

Anyway, I tucked him in tight Sunday night. Gave him hugs and kisses. I said for him to give me my last 7-year-old kiss ever and then said goodnight. No sooner than I had come downstairs to brush my teeth, Chase was by my side.

"Oh, yeah, Mommy, when you go out to get my birthday present tonight - remember I want a LEGO Agent set, Mission 8. Try to find that, ok?" (Clearly Chase believes that I am a last minute shopper. Everything was not only bought, but wrapped up and ready to go. And the gifts did NOT include that particular LEGO set.)

I hugged him again and sent him up to his room.

After I washed my face and got my pj's on, Chase was back in my room. "Another thing, Mommy. I need a new mattress. I really want a Tempur-Pedic, ok?"

"You want a mattress for your birthday?" I ask in disbelief. I wonder if there are any other 8 year olds on the entire planet that would ask for a Tempur-Pedic for his birthday.

"Yeah. You know, along with a few toys." He responds.

I hug him, kiss him and send him to his room - again.

The third time he comes into my room Paul tells him that we'll start taking away one present for each time he comes into our room. So he decided it might be best to try to get some shut-eye.

At approximately 3:30 a.m., Chase comes into my room. He wants to know when would be a good time to open presents. When I suggest 7 a.m., he is appalled. "THAT LONG?!?"

I help him back to his bed, fearful that Paul may hold true to his word.

Seven o'clock came way too early, but I dragged myself out of bed, grabbed my camera and headed to the kitchen to watch the present-opening. Chase's brand new, shiny bike was sitting there with a bow on top. I couldn't wait to hear what he would say.

"Oh, I wondered what kind of bike you got me" was not the response I was expecting.

"How did you know we got you a bike?"

"Micah told me."

We would never entrust Micah with secrets. He apparently went on a search mission through the night. And then blabbed. Which is why we don't trust him with secrets.

Oh well, you can't go wrong with a DS game. And fortunately he got that, too.

Basketball Practice

It was my turn to take Micah to practice again on Tuesday (the GPS was in the vehicle, awaiting, this time - see December 12 post). At 7:00 I gave Micah warning. "We need to leave in 20 minutes, Micah. Change your clothes and get your dribbling report." Micah, who was busy stomping his dad at a game of tennis on the Wii, gave me a noncommittal grunt for an answer.

When the time rolled around and I was ready to leave, Micah could not find his dribbling report (the paper that states that he practiced dribbling every day). He became quite upset. "If I don't bring my dribbling report, the coach will make me run!"

I (being Mom) don't like this. I like to protect my children from, well, everything. However, I can see that this is one of those teachable moments that you read about in parenting books. We searched for a few minutes but then, after having no luck finding the report, I announce that we must leave or else we will be late.

Micah became even more upset. "I don't want to go to practice! I'm not going! I can't run because my leg still hurts!" (We went rollerskating a few days ago, thus the sore leg).

I was tempted to not make Micah experience any of this, but I insisted he go and face whatever punishment was ahead of him. I mentioned that maybe this would help him keep up with his report in the future. When Micah continued to complain about his leg, I suggested he could mention to the coach that it was sore but that he needed to let the coach decide what to do.

We get to practice and Micah makes a beeline for the coach. "I couldn't find my dribbling report, but my leg hurts because I went skating and fell down a lot," Micah blurted.

Micah's coach blinks confusedly at Micah. "I'm sorry. Tell me again, what does your leg have to do with your dribbling report?"

When the coach was finally up to speed on Micah's situation, he decided not to make Micah run, but did spend some time lecturing him on the principle of discipline.

With that over, Micah and I went to the sidelines where I asked him to take off his coat and jeans so he could start practicing. Micah said, "You want me to take off my jeans?!? But, Mommy, I don't have on anything underneath!"

Sigh. Was any lesson learned here? Perhaps it was a lesson for me. Turn off the Wii before giving directives.

P.S. He did stay and practice in his jeans. And he did look silly among the other boys in their basketball shorts and other gear. But he did very well. And was not too humble about it, either.