Champions

I guess swim season is over. And I should probably mention how things worked out.

If you spend any time following my Instagram pics you already know the good news: Cooper won the 50 yard Breaststroke at championships. 

Yeah and high fives all around. 

Can we all just think back to Cooper's first year in swim team? Remember when his coaches picked him to be the 3D recipient? That was cool. I was so shocked by the award that I didn't even see him get it. I was in the back chit-chatting with my friends. 

Fast forward to this year. Final banquet and Cooper is up front collecting all kinds of medals and ribbons. Undefeated season in breaststroke, all-star swimmer, the list goes on. He has become such a great athlete. Then the coaches start recognizing high-point winners and I kinda checked out. You got it, I was chit-chatting in the back again. 

Then they announce the 3D -- a trophy that has gotten harder to win because now they only give it to 1 girl and 1 boy, not each 1 in each age group -- and they start to describe a very determined young man. One who went to every practice, and one who they know trains when he's on vacation, too. They talked about his willingness to swim up with the 11-12s and help out the older boys. They shared how he sets goals. And then they said Cooper's name! This time I got a picture (after I gasped with utter surprise). 

It's fun for Coop to earn a medal for swimming fast. But as the parent, hearing your child recognized for their work ethic is amazing. 

Swim team has changed our lives. I look forward to spending my summer with swim team friends who feel like family. Being in this program has been like being adopted into a family. It's not just my kid I like to cheer for. I feel so happy for so many of those athletes, and so grateful for the older athletes who have set such an extraordinary example for my Cooop. Now, we look to competitive tryouts and year-round schedules. But we will return to the Wahoos every summer.

Grit

The Coop in the middle and leading the pack.

I observed something in my oldest this weekend. Something I liked, but can't really describe. But I think it was grit.

He is such a good little breaststroke swimmer. Really. This is not me bragging. He is good at it. He's a natural. His body was made for it. He loves it.

The other strokes are just warm up for what he considers the big race. Because the Indiviual Medley -- or IM -- includes the breaststroke he likes that one too. Saturday, however, he DQd in the IM. After absolutely improving in every way on butterfly, he settled into a questionable pace for backstroke and then -- and this will be all swimmer-y and technical -- he flipped an illegal turn on the back to breast transition. Guh. And he knew it. So the rest of the race was just painful for him.

Out of the water he put on a good face. I actually thought to myself, "Oh I guess Coop IS a 9-year-old who swims for fun. This doesn't bother him at all." Plus, I'd like to point out, he caught up his first relay team to ensure a win, won the breaststroke, placed in the 100-meter freestyle, and swam up with the 11-12-year-olds in the 4x50-meter freestyle relay to win. This one DQ out of five very successful races seemed like peanuts.

Then Sunday rolled around and we went about our business. A family walk cut short by a going-away party at the swimming pool. None of the other kids are swim team kids. So I knew Coop would get in some relaxing play in the water.

When I showed up to take him home, I found him away from the group and in the lap pool. The kid was swimming his turn over and over and over, again. I had to tell him he was wonderful. Get out. Rest.

Some of us have this. This drive to practice so much that we not only do something perfectly, we never do anything but perfect. Some of us don't. Coop has two gifts. He was given great turn-out and a body for breastroke. But he also has the gift of grit. It's the second I admire.

Swim team friends are fun friends!

Feats of Strength

We had a fairly big weekend. In terms of living in the suburbs, you could say it was a heavy hardware weekend. The Coop played in the Lacrosse Championships of his league/division/small corner of the world and won. Then the following day he endured the chaos of a kid triathlon. Both adventures earned him a medal. He's kinda a big deal.

What we didn't expect, was to have our Mason recognized, too. Following the lacrosse game it was parent paparazzi everywhere. I got some amazing pictures of Cooper. But what I missed with my lens and must capture here is what Cooper's coach did for Mason. He gave him a medal for his support! Indeed Mason went to every practice and every game. He was Cooper's no. 1 fan. He has his own stick and was Coop's practice partner in the backyard. Coach will never know the significance of this to me. 

After the excitement of the day blew over and we were watching TV, Mason started nonchalantly doing sit ups. Then he moved on to push ups. Before we knew it he was working the tricep-dip on the stairs and holding a wall-sit for an eternity. We sat up, we noticed. Like it was nothing, he lunged past us on the couch and asked if we could think of any hard exercises for him. The night continued on with us thinking of truly difficult feats of strength for Mason. Anything and everything we invented, he tried. If you know Mason, you know this is a thing. I can't help but think he was boosted by his hard-earned hardware. 

Can't wait for high school track when I see that kick!

Shutterbabies

As our children mature around us there are times when I take a step back and feel confused. It's like I realize they've gotten to a place that's a bit more grown up and I know that they have reached the next stage but I didn't really feel it go by. Well, we're there, again.

This past week has been Spring Break in these parts. You might imagine that we would escape to warmer climes. So did we. But in reality we stayed really close to home and had a great time. One of our adventures was entering a photocontest that the kids noticed in a flyer that came home from school.

It honored Ansel Adams' 111th birthday. 

When I explained to the boys what good 'ol Ansel was famous for and the images that really set him apart from other nature photographers they actually understood. And that is how I found myself hiking one of my favorite running trails with both boys and a camera. 

They were both excited to use my camera. But they approached the project completely differently. Mason had remembered the trail from a hike we took about one year ago. He was determined to get to the view he was remembering and he would have none of the "views exploration" which Cooper and I were doing. 

Meanwhile, as I said, Cooper was stopping every 30 steps saying, "Oh this is a great view Mom." Until finally I had to crush his artistic heart and say, "NO, no it is not." This is how we stopped and started up the hill to find our artistic voice. 

Someone took this one of me, not sure which one. Not my best side. But hey, can't take yourself too seriously at my age. 

And here are their entries:

MASON, age 6

COOPER, age 8

Science Is Fun

Do you know what makes science fun? Vinegar. 

That's a little known fact. With enough eggs and vinegar you can pull together enough pictures and observation notes to create an excellent science fair project. You can also make your house smell really ... really ... really like a second grader's basketball uniform after it's been worn for both a practice and game on the same weekend without washing it. Also, if you stuff a dirty washcloth in the bottom of a laundry basket and forget about it for 5-7 days, it kinda smells like that, too. Anyway, they don't call it the smell fair.

Should you think the discomfort of preparation for this event was limited to an odiferous acid, let me also describe for you the contents of a birds' nest that we found in our yard and preserved for 8 months. Did you know, for instance, that baby birds actually crap all over the inside of the nest for approximately 30 days? As it turns out, 8 months in a sealed plastic bag turned that little bowl of sticks into a scientific marvel all its own replete with spiders. That my friends IS science.

I myself have never been a presenter or contestant in a science fair. That is why I am so particularly proud of these two. They had to go head-to-head with the judges. No mommies standing in the wings, no daddies helping with answers. Frankly, they really did know the concept of the scientific method and explained their hypothesis and conclusion on their own. The boys did it. They loved it. And they did great.  

I love this picture. Also, did I mention we tried to set fire to eggs? Mason wrote in his notes, "Burned Eggs Stink!" 

Here is Mason explaining his experiment to a friend. Read into his body language anything you want.  You are probably spot on.

The morning of science fair.

All I did was finance the poster boards, binders, folders, picture reprints, about a dozen eggs, two gallons of vinegar, and button-down shirts. Well, as long as we're patting ourselves on the back, I did a pretty good job as Mrs. Moneybags. Where's my medal? 

Best Vacation Ever

Let's face it, our kids have a way of romanticizing family vacations to the point of unbelievability. But it's nice to bask in their superlatives. Our short sojourn to Steamboat Springs was a success, even if we didn't ski the slopes. 

At the close of our long weekend, Mason and I waited patiently in the warm car while Steve and The Coop ran inside to checkout of the condo and grab a donut. Mason murmured, "Sometimes it's hard to say goodbye." 

His voice was so sweet and on the verge of emotional and I asked him why he felt this was true. 

"Because I had so much fun." he explained. I reached back with my Amazonian arms and patted his knee then realized it was the leg that was hurting after a day of sledding and playing rough in the snow so I said, "I'm sorry your leg hurts."

He replied while blinking back tears, "Maybe it's sad to leave, too."


Some pictures from the trip: 

The Cooperbowl

My son’s 8^th birthday was planned to fix all the ways in which he’d been disappointed at recess.

Picked last. Not picked at all. Rarely getting to try quarterback. Teammates making intentionally bad snaps when he finally got to try being the quarterback. Kids suck.

  

Clearly hearing about it in snips and bits over the past few weeks was really bothering me. Him, too. But The Coop really does let things roll.

I’m a bear.

And so that is how we came to rent a full indoor football field, name ourselves the commissioners of The Cooperbowl, and host what boiled down to an extended recess.

Oh did he have fun.

It was the first time we had planned to host our December baby’s party after Christmas, nearly three weeks after his actual big day. That might have been a mistake. But it was a nice change of pace. Or rather, the pace of the chaos in our house three weeks ago really didn’t afford the time for a birthday party.

After the running, and jumping, and sweating – my do boys stink – they sat down for some good ‘ol fashioned concessions and a quiz. That’s right, the Who-Knows-Coop-Best Quiz. Questions and answers that I’d like to keep:

Who is Cooper’s favorite football team? Broncos (it was the Jets until the 27^th of December).

What belt has Cooper earned in karate? Orange

What is Cooper’s favorite color? Green

Other than football, what is Cooper’s favorite sport? Swimming – though he first answered soccer (?!?!?!!?).

Who is Cooper’s favorite football player? Peyton Manning – though I know he loves Tim Tebow.

What is Cooper’s favorite special? P.E.

What is Cooper’s favorite book? Diary of a Wimpy Kid

There were some other questions I wanted to ask Coop. You know, my usual birthday interview. But it seems that all questions are answered with “butt cheeks”, “fart head”, or “I dunno”. I gave up.  

Planning a Party? Visit my sewing blog for resources. 

All The First Days of School

As we come to the close of our second week in school, I’d like to write a few words about the first week of school. I am absolutely finished with the defining “first” moment of school. That’s too much pressure for this nutcase. I took the machine gun approach to celebrating the return to class.

There was not one single moment of reflection and melancholy, but a whole blob of them coming at me fast and furious. So many of my friends and family have asked about Mason’s first-first day. Did he cry? How did you do? Yada yada and all that.

Well, here’s the thing. No one cried. Well, no one from our family cried as they walked into class on the first day that attendance was taken. But there were some tears. Since everyone is looking for a sob story, I'll piece it together here.

On New School Year’s Eve the kindergarten teacher hosted an ice cream social. Brilliant. There was ice cream, no tears. Well, except from me when I watched her love on another person’s kid that I didn’t even know. She was so amazing that I teared up with awe at her ability to love small, grubby, children who were for all intents and purposes strangers to her. I also breathed a major, and I do mean major sigh of relief.

Then there was the meet-and-greet. This is a new tradition at our school. It’s like freshmen orientation for everyone, all grades, all students, plus parents. It’s also the day you haul all your school supplies to school. They take attendance, which is to say they check to see who brought 4 reams of paper, 120 paper plates, 100 gallon-sized ziplocks, 48 sharpened pencils, 24 glue sticks, etc. I know for a fact that when I started school back in 1980 all of my school supplies fit nicely in my backpack. Someone needs to teach the district about supply-chain management and the power of buying in bulk. Wait, that’s another post for another day.

No one cries at the meet-and-greet. We had some nerves. Namely Mason absolutely could not bring himself to eat breakfast. But Cooper was delighted to see his buddies and settled into his seat in the middle of his very favorite people. Cooper’s teacher has previously taught 6^th graders. I believe that 2^nd graders will try her patience, but could not be happier with her level of expectation.

As we walked the halls of school we bumped into our friendly principal several times. He’s a greeter and a small-talker. So, he spoke to us at least 3 times in the 2 hours we were on campus. Mason yanked on my skirt and asked, “Who’s that strange guy? He’s everywhere.”

Following a very busy but mostly positive day we drove to Mason’s swimming lesson. Guess who was sitting in the lobby of our swim school?!?!!? Our principal! Mason stood still in his flip-flops but did not say a word. He went into his lesson and I proceeded to explain to the principal why it was a special treat to see him outside of school. When Mason was done with his lesson he leaned in and whispered to me, “See, I told you he. Is. EVERYWHERE.”

Please note Coop's choice of socks.

By Tuesday we were all photographed to pieces. But this was the real first-day of school. The boys elected – independently – to wear matching, highlighter-yellow shirts. (Jenn Webinaci you better find this reference amazing.) Then, we were late. We were late to the FIRST day of school! Yes, we’re those parents. So, Cooper ran to his line all by himself and barely waved goodbye. Steve and I walked with Mason to his.

Again, the amazing kindergarten teacher led the kids in a cheer about having no fear and being brave. This cheer was for the parents. Then she posed with each child for a picture. Then they went into class. Mason did not cry. I did not cry. Steve did not cry (well, maybe he did but he wears really dark sunglasses). Then my bestie came up to me and gave my arm a squeeze and I wanted to cry, but I did not. The corner of one eye got a little wet, but it could have been allergies.

Kisses all around and parting of ways and I was off to start my new life as mother with things to do without two in tow. I didn’t miss them until 2:30 when I would normally be picking up Mason from preschool. Then I basically drummed my fingers for an hour before I picked them up.

No one cried. Well, not until Thursday evening in the car. All good questions come while driving in the car. Mason blurted, “Hey mom, when is my half day?”

“Oh buddy. You don’t have half days anymore. You’re all grown up.” Then I looked back to see his response.

His chin actually quivered, he sniffed. Then he bravely blinked away a tear and a half, and stated, “OK, I can handle it.”