Even if you just hear about them. I recently wrote 11 questions for a youth soccer coach. Quietly, I don’t officially have a team for this fall. It’s the first time since Swedish tennis player Anna Holmstrom finished fourth in the 1912 Stockholm Olympics.
So, it’s been a while.
I wrote the questions for the next generation of youth soccer coaches. Dudes with accents and pointy hair and fantastic calves tend to infiltrate the sidelines of those of us out of Generation X, we of graying roofs and middle-age spread.
So, this A to Z Challenge really kicked my butt. It happened in the home stretch of soccer season. It fell during a time we stressed over Elise’s college status (she got in!) and lots of work workload. Spring’s a time of renewal, too. Although it’s mostly pollen.
If my guest post list were a troubling of goldfish, they’d mostly be belly up.
As readers might remember, when I have a guest-post Wednesday without any guest posts, I turn to my phone. I pick 11 random pics and share them here. Let me know what you think. I promise to have something from an awesome guest next week.
One visit to her blog and you’ll know why. Lisa writes that her blog is about “motherhood, candy, pregnancy, TV, photography and birth, but not that in order nor in equal parts.” Her blog has morphed to one about IVF and infertility to one about breastfeeding and parenthood.
It’s not just being the anti-favorite in a game or in life – it’s a lifestyle. It’s humility and hope, it’s dreams and down-to-earth. It has one common ingredient, one building block that makes everything else possible. And without it, it’s tough to accomplish anything.
To believe it’s possible marks the first step. Not to sound all Dali Lama on you, but it’s true. I believe in a universe of beliefs. Weeks ago, I started a list, both serious and funny. It came together, 42 beliefs.
You might know Jennifer as author of the blog Outsmarted Mommy. She’s cornered by two sons and a husband. Even a dude like me knows it takes more than three boys to outsmart a mom. I suspect a ploy to set up a sneak attack.
There’s nothing sneaky about Jennifer’s blog, though.
It all started with a letter to her boys. She tossed away life in corporate America for a life of slippers, finger paint and exceptional writing. Motherhood Mondays examine aspects of being a mom, and J-Liz also has a funny side. Really, it’s called My Funny Side.
Today, she’s here to tell about what she’s lost as a mother.
There are approximately 3,436 questions in my Go Ask Daddy Google Keep file.
One question stands alone as the best quote I’ve had from my kids in quite a while. Not because it asks about the meaning of life, or for dada to sum up Jesus’ gospels, or even to explain why Pluto can be a mouse’s dog but no longer a planet.
It’s not even to ask why Clint Black is white and Barry White was black.
“Dad,” Grace asked, “can you say sh*t on your blog, or do you have to use those little star thingys?”
We parents know the drill: Every day is a circus. Every day is a carnival. Every day is a prison break wrapped in a mutiny dipped in dirty socks, cracker crumbs and lost homework.
Welcome to parenthood.
Everyone’s flavor is a little different, the smells wafting from the kitchen aren’t the same, and although the noise levels are probably pretty consistent across the board – with decibels that make a Concorde jet sound like a nose-hair trimmer – it’s not a life I’d ever, ever change.
It exhilarates, exhausts, disgusts, and lifts us like nothing else possibly could.
How would you sum up the journey in six words? Inspired by Hemingway’s assertion that a story can be told in six words, I asked that to parents around me – at soccer practice, in the blog world, even at the grocery store.
Here are 55 responses … from the anxious to the delirious to the simply joyous, all honest, all from the heart.
Sometimes, I have to call off the dogs with these girls.
Remind Elise that her strikes on goal are a threat to girls’ dentition at times. Stress to Marie that it’s OK to show a little mercy. In practice. Peel Grace off a boy she’s face-planted into the carpet who can’t move his lips to say uncle.
I once had to go to work after a wrestle session with a littler Elise and Marie that got a bit spirited, and left me with a swollen face and minor bleeding of the mouth. It wasn’t always this way, though.