Typically Texan

I'm headed out to a client's office this afternoon of March 30. I am wearing my leather coat.

It is a damp 48 degrees outside.

Wiley has three soccer games on Saturday. The high temperature is expected to reach 90.

Too bad there're no trade backs.

Queen for (half) a day

We did have our garage sale a week ago Saturday. Our soccer team raised nearly $1,100. We sorted items the night before, having to wait until the temperature cooled some. It didn't cool enough, though. I ended up awake most of the night with chills and fever from heat exhaustion. But that's okay. It made it easier for me to justify sitting in my camp chair throne all the next morning, confirming prices and holding the money, while other parents did the hard labor.

Our signs, put up before dawn on Saturday, said the sale would be 7:30 -1:00. On Craigslist we posted sale hours as 8:00 - 1:00. Our first customer showed up at 6:45. By 11:30 we were virtually sold out and closed up shop.

We had an unbelievable amount of traffic stopping by, sometimes with ten cars in our little court. It helps when you have good publicity. It really helps when you have fifteen year old boys able and quite willing to direct traffic our way from the nearby intersection.

The boys used signs, hand motions and general hilarity to great effect. At one point they came back to the house for more poster board and markers. They made signs advertising hugs for a dollar. It worked, adding five dollars to the pot. Most of the customers appreciated the good humor of it all. Some curmudgeon didn't, though, and called the police. A cop gently (we think) reminded my son, the guilty one, to stay out of the street.

Whoever called the cops might have been from the family having the garage sale down the street. Our boys had been setting up in the intersection to hide their sign, which pointed the opposite way. That's definitely why we had an anonymous young man sitting in a chair across the street from our house, holding a sign to get customers directed back towards them.

The best part of a garage sale is pricing the items. We tagged the larger items, but everything else was subject to whim, the particular customer and the time of day. People in the first hour paid "full" price. As the morning wore on, the prices dropped.

Since I had the change and was most familiar with the inventory, I generally got final say on prices. What power! I sat in my chair and ruled. For the little girl who wanted a book and bag of crafts, the price might be fifty cents. It's such fun to see a little one deliberate and finally choose and carefully pull out her own money. One woman spent $134 on clothes, dishes, shoes ($2 a pair and we sold about 80 pairs during the day), bedding, a chair and a washer and dryer. My older son, with his pickup and another parent, delivered the items to her nearby apartment. It turns out she had recently moved here and has a husband in a wheelchair and needed everything she bought from us. That was sobering.

Another early shopper bought lots of clothing at $1 an item and then wanted a better deal because she was buying clothes to "send to Mexico." I told her no, this was a fundraiser to help boys afford competitive soccer, but I could make a deal at the end of the sale. She called me at noon and I offered all the clothing we had left, several hundred items, for $50. She agreed. Of course, when she got here, she suggested $40 should be enough. Nope. (I was still queen.) I told her the minimum was $50. Otherwise I would donate the clothes to our school district's clothes closet where I knew they would go to good use. She paid the $50 and we completely filled her car.

Now why was there so much clothing and shoes? Just think about all those fifteen year old boys who have grown 4-8 inches and three shoe sizes in the past year. We sold a lot of boys' and men's items.

My favorite negotiation of the day involved a well dressed couple driving an expensive car. They had stopped by twice, annoying me each time, arguing over a dollar here and there on their purchases. The third time they came by the woman was interested in a lap blanket designed like an American flag.

"How much is the blanket?"

"The blanket is $5.00 and I'll throw in the American flag pillow for free."

"Will you take $4.00?"

"No."

"Well, I don't want the pillow, so how much is just the blanket."

"It's $5.00"

"But wouldn't it be $2.50? I don't want the pillow, I just want the blanket."

"The blanket is $5.00, I'm just throwing in the pillow if you want it."

She paid $5 for the blanket, and I guess she did want the pillow, because she took it, too.

Garage sales can be a lot of fun with the right attitude. If you need to rent a queen some time, just let me know. I work cheap.

The difference a day makes

We just got back from eating really good Mexican food. It was a nice break for me before I start my marathon tax return weekend (with NCAA basketball in the background.) It has been a lovely afternoon, still nearly 75 degrees. Driving to a client's office this afternoon, I was delayed by all the zoo traffic that had backed up the interstate.

It's too early for wildflowers - the Indian paint and Texas bluebonnets. But the trees are all abloom or past bloom. The weeds are green and spring plantings are started. I wore a sleeveless shirt today. Flip flops and capris are next.

I've been planning my work schedule, hoping to make Wiley's first spring soccer game for his club team. The game is scheduled early Sunday morning.

It may not be an issue. The forecast for tomorrow, Saturday, has a winter weather advisory. We should expect wind chills in the twenties and up to two inches of snow. It should be about 30 degrees at game time.

I don't know what to say except - I'm going to see snow in Texas on March 20. Maybe we've found the 4th dimension, a parallel universe of contradictions, and somehow slipped into it.

List of necessities:

From the top -

full length down coat with hood

knit scarf

fleece gloves

blankets

lava buns

stadium seat

Ugg boots

propane portable heater

Can you tell I'm a high school soccer parent in Texas, with a season that goes January through March? Where's that global warming when you need it? Come on, help me out here!

P.S. After 69 minutes of tough play, our team won tonight 1-0 on a penalty kick with twelve seconds left in the game. Go Raiders!

The rest of the story

Starting about eighth grade, our older son started wearing his hair short. With clippers we were able to keep it trim and avoid the time and expense of hair cuts. I was pleased when our younger son started doing the same this school year. In November we replaced the old, now rusty clippers with powerful new ones.

On the Sunday after Thanksgiving Wiley sat on the back porch as I started his haircut. High school soccer tryouts were the next day and he wanted to make a good impression. I took the first big swipe through his thick hair. "Oh no, oh no, oh Wiley, I'm so sorry." I had forgotten to put the Number 2 guard on the clippers so he basically had no hair instead of hair about a quarter inch long.

There was no recovery. The first stripe was so long and wide I had to finish the hair cut to match. So in the middle of winter he ended up basically bald. He didn't take it badly. I don't know if that made me feel better or worse.

I picked him up at the junior high that Monday afternoon to take him over to the high school for tryouts. Oh, my!

Classmates had written on his head during the day. One of his teachers called him "Bathroom Wall" in honor of the grafitti. I couldn't believe he had let boys mark on his head the day of tryouts. He shrugged it off.

Well, he definitely stood out on the field. At the end of tryouts, the coach talked to him for a few minutes alone. Wiley was invited back to the second day of tryouts, but was warned never to look like that again.

After a second day of wet, freezing tryouts, Wiley made the team, the only freshman from his school to do so.

A couple of weeks later, at the initial parent meeting, the coach was joking with us about that day. It seems during the private conversation with the coach, Wiley confessed. He wasn't trying to be disruptive, he had fallen asleep in class, and so his friends marked up his head.

I don't know if he has fallen asleep in class since then. I do know he triple checks the clippers now before we start a haircut.

Looking ahead

My boys had some milestone moments last week.

Brian moved out to his own apartment on Saturday. He didn't have to. He was welcome to stay here (for free) as long as he was in school. It has been a fairly "cush" life for him the past six months, immune as he is to my nagging. He could come and go as he pleased, eat and sleep as he pleased. I even did his laundry most of the time, my choice.

But he recognized the need to make a move, a need to put some struggle back into his life so that he would grow. He should do fine. He has more than enough talent and ability. It has been a distaste for effort that has temporarily derailed him the last couple of years.

Over the past week, as he waited for his move in date, I would occasionally question him. Did he need anything? Did he want to go through the attic and garage picking out old furniture? Did he want things out of the kitchen? What about a grocery store wish list?

That's what moms do. We look ahead and anticipate and prepare. Each time I spoke my son's eyes glazed over as he looked ahead. The date would come. He would move his stuff. If he needed something, he would take care of it then. No additional thought required.

My other son tried out for and made the high school soccer team. This is a significant achievement in our school district, as the ninth graders are in junior high rather than high school. A ninth grader must be exceptional at his sport to be permitted to leave his junior high campus to participate at the high school level. Thirty-five freshmen from three junior highs tried out for eight spots. Wiley was one of the eight and the only one from his school to make it.

As the tryout date approached, I would occasionally question him. Did he have his paperwork done? Did he have the right equipment? Was he prepared to work hard during the very brief tryout and not take anything for granted? Would he be okay if he didn't make the first cut? Was he prepared if he did not make the final cut?

Each time I spoke my son's eyes glazed over as he looked ahead. The date would come. He would make it or not. If he needed something, he would take care of it. No additional thought required.

As we approach a new year and a new decade, I will continue to look ahead and anticipate, but more and more as an observer rather than a participant. My children's paths are their own, whether straight or curved.

Of course I will not be able to suppress an occasional "have you thought of......?" My kids will just have to humor me. And if their eyes glaze over as I ask the question, I will understand.

Physical Fitness

This weekend there was a news story featuring a female college soccer player. In the featured game she had been shown a yellow card by the referee.

A yellow card in soccer is similar to a technical foul in basketball. The yellow card means the player has made a dangerous play, been unsportsmanlike or expressed dissent (argued with the referee or used foul language.) A second yellow card or a red card and the player is ejected from the game, the team then playing a man short.

During the remainder of the game this player punched players in the back, intentionally kicked them instead of the ball, and at one point she yanked the opposing player down to the ground by her ponytail. The referee did not catch these egregious offenses, but the cameraman did. The player has since been suspended by her coach indefinitely.

Soccer is not a sport for sissies.

My son the soccer player does not usually engage in these types of shenanigans. He plays with hard shoulder to shoulder contact and moves aggressively for the ball. He does not hold shirts, tackle with cleats up or shove in the back. With boys there usually is not a hair pulling option, but if available, he would not use it.

He does tend to step on the heels of the forwards he marks and I'm sure he mouths off some in defense of his territory. He's not nasty, he's just quite irritating. And he is very good at taking the ball away.

A kind parent took these pictures for us.

Wiley has taken the ball away from the forward.

The forward has no ability to prevent the pass, but he's coming after Wiley anyway.

The pass is away, but not the opportunity to vent some frustration. The referee could have called a foul on the other player, but our team already had control of the ball.

Wiley is just laughing, and he laughed about it again when we showed him these pictures, recalling the satisfaction of that particular play.

That's the great thing about boys and about boys who play hard, but fair. There are no grudges that carry over the end of the game. And if an opponent gets a little frustrated and needs to vent, that's okay. After all, when you're winning the game, you can be forgiving. And have fun.

Still Charmed

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about my son's ability to inflict damage on others while remaining personally unscathed.

Well, I didn't "knock on wood," so in the fifth and final game of his Labor Day soccer tournament he was hit hard enough to be injured. He finished the game that Monday morning, but later showed us the bruising and swelling. When it did not significantly improve the next day, we took him to the doctor.

The doctor diagnosed an injury which will need surgery in the long run to relieve discomfort, but in the short run just needs rest. He could play again once the pain and swelling subsided. After another week and a second doctor visit, he was told to wait a few more days.

Today he was feeling fine, able to run and jump without pain, and will be back at sports full time on Monday. Today the sun came out consistently for the first time in two weeks.

Since his injury, all his soccer practices and games have been postponed due to the rain and sog. He won't have missed a thing.

A Charmed Life

My younger son is an average size boy in the world of competitive sports. You might have even said he was below average, before he grew over three inches in the last two months. He's now just under 5' 6" and slim.

I have tremendous fun watching him play soccer. He is an aggressive defender and marking back, often finding himself matched against boys much bigger and taller. That's one of the reasons the recent growth spurt is so welcome.

But no matter what size he is, he is always sturdy. He has an uncanny ability to stay on his feet, leaving his larger opponent on the ground after a contest for the ball.

Soccer rules allow players to have shoulder-to-shoulder contact if it is part of a genuine attempt to play the ball. As far as my son is concerned, he is always making a genuine attempt to play the ball (except maybe when he's dogging an opposing forward's heels.) Yesterday was no exception, and fighting for possession of the ball, the other kid ended up on the ground with a separated shoulder and broken collar bone.

I don't know how he does it, this one boy wrecking crew. He seems to be consistently lucky while those near him are not.

When Wiley was a toddler he cracked his daddy's rib in a moment of exuberance. When he was about four years old he came diving over the back of the couch I was laying (lying?) on. He broke my shoulder, which had to be repaired with surgery a few painful months later.

I and the rest of our family have learned to approach him with caution. He's the sweetest boy I know, but sometimes not safe to be around.

How he uses his "luck" over the next few years of high school should be interesting. Think it will change when he discovers girls?

It's a sign

We committed our son to his new soccer team tonight. On the way to practice we quizzed Wiley on what number he would like to have for his uniform in case "his" number was not available. He has had the same uniform number since age six. It's the same number his sister used in basketball and his brother used in soccer. Number 21 was available. We definitely picked the right team.

Meet the Parents

Today we're meeting the parents of the soccer team we think our son is switching to. We've been invited to the pre-season swim party and cookout. I made chocolate chip cookies to take. They turned out all right. You can be sure I did NOT make my chocolate cinnamon cake.

Club soccer is truly a family activity. In our world of competitive soccer there are usually two to three practices a week that last about an hour and half each. The nine league games each fall and spring are played at fields about an hour away. The players usually have to be there forty five minutes before the game starts,. With the games lasting at least an hour and a half, that's a lot of time spent with the same people each week. Add to that a few tournaments during the year, some of them out of town, and you can rack up the hours.

But unlike getting together with relatives , there is no requirement that soccer parents like each other or try to get along.

It can be tricky getting along with the parents of your child's teammates (particularly with school teams.) Some parents are screamers, at the referees or the coaches or the kids on the field. It's particularly grating when a parent screams at his own child. Some are complainers, muttering just audibly enough for you to know that they think your child is screwing up or getting too much playing time. Some parents think their child is the MVP of the team, never responsible for an error or missed opportunity. If you have kids who've played sports, you know what I mean.

With club sports, parents do influence the tone of the team. We've been fortunate with our boys' soccer teams so far. A majority of the team parents have been encouraging fans and pleasant companions at the games and as we travel.

Now, after being with the same core group of parents for four years, we are switching teams. Our primary goal has been to keep soccer fun for our boy and for us. In changing, we only considered teams in our part of town. This will cut our commuting time by almost an hour per practice, giving our son more time for his academics and school activities. (It will free up even more time for me and Ricky since it will no longer be impractical for us to drop him off and then return to pick him up from practice.)

There are three teams in our area. All three are good, solid teams moving up. We did not even consider letting him try out for the top ranked of those three teams, though. Why? The best way I can say it is that the parents on that team just seem a little unkind. They are quick to yell at the officials and the parents of the opposing team. They don't hesitate to call out opposing players, young boys, for perceived fouls. It's unpleasant to be near them on the sidelines.

The other two teams both have good kids and good parents and have open spots to fill so Wiley had a choice. Either one would have been just fine.

We're looking forward to joining this new club and blending into the family. Hope they like us!