Matching Tracksuits

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Sports and Ice Cream

Saturday 19 May 2018

The Girl had her first volleyball game today. It was as one might expect when the majority of the girls playing haven’t had much experience on the court. Most volleys were one of three types:

  1. A serve that doesn’t make it over the net or lands outside.
  2. A serve that plops in front of a player who, through a lack of experience and a bit of accompanying fear, made a slight effort to go for it.
  3. A serve that is returned and then plops in front of a player on the serving team, through a lack of experience and a bit of accompanying fear, made a slight effort to go for it.

Not a lot of action. But a lot of excitement: the girls were all thrilled when they managed to make a serve (which actually happened quite frequently); they were shouting encouragement and joy when they managed to return a serve; they encouraged each other when someone messed up.

It was a beautiful thing to watch.

While the Girl was playing, the Boy was having soccer practice on the other half of the court due to the unpredictability of the weather this week. He finished his hour-long practice drench in sweat and as eager as ever to play more soccer.

It was a beautiful thing to see.

The afternoon brought the Boy’s birthday party. We had an old-school, kids playing in the yard party. There were water balloons, brownies, sprinker antics, chips, volleyball over the sprinker, soda, soccer in the sprinker’s mist, ice cream cake, trampoline flights, pizza, and endless laughs.

It was a beautiful day to experience.

Chess in Spytkowice

Friday 18 May 2018

M is K’s sister’s-in-law father, and he’s a keen chess player. I first played in him Krakow, at their apartment, in 2003 or so. We played one game, which lasted probably an hour and a half and went to roughly 40 moves, I’d guess. I knew I’d won with about 15 moves to go: he’d underestimated the queen-side attack I’d slowly been building.

Years later, when we went to Syptkowice to visit with them at their summer house, we’d always play. Since I’d won that first game, my ego was soothed, and I took more chances. In this particular game, those chances didn’t work out for me.

Enemies

Thursday 17 May 2018

Sometimes, the Boy can be his own worst enemy. It’s true of all kids his age — and older. He’ll get upset about something, fuss about it, then escalate it when the resolution doesn’t appear to be going his way. The trick is to get him to see that habit and stop it.

Today he was upset about something. About what, it doesn’t really matter, but it involved L, who was helping me clean the bathrooms in preparation for the Boy’s birthday party Saturday. We have too much to do in too little time, so some of Friday’s cleaning shifted to today. The incident spilled over to a whine-fest with his mother, then with me. I sat him down and talked to him about what was going on.

“We’re all getting things ready for you. For your party. Every single thing we’re doing, we’re doing it for you. I think if someone was doing this much for me, I wouldn’t be upset because they weren’t paying enough attention to me at that moment. I’d be thankful. I’d say, ‘What can I do to help?'”

He calmed himself down with the little breathing exercise I taught him — basically, slow, measured breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth — and then went to ask K if there was anything he could do to help. She set him to washing dishes, a chore he adores.

“Thank you for showing me how fun it is to work together today,” he told me in the midst of his toothbrush session. “If I’d kept fussing, I would have missed out on a lot of fun.”

Later that night, as we read Tashi in bed, Tashi had an opportunity to escape from bad guys who’d kidnapped him. He ran by the river, where he saw the wife of the Chief Bad Guy drowning. I stopped.

“Do you think Tashi should stop and help her?”

“No!” the Boy said incredulously.

“Why not?”

“Because she’s his enemy. If he helps her, she might just grab him and take him back to the other bad guys,” he explained earnestly.

“Or,” I said, thinking carefully how I could explain it, “she could be so impressed and touched that he helped her that she stops being his enemy.”

“Yeah, but in Smurfs: the Lost Village, when [some character whose name I don’t remember] fell of the boat and the Smurfs helped him out of the water, he said, ‘Yeah, but I’m still bad!’ and captured them. And it was their boat. They made it themselves!” His patience in explaining that was enchanting.

“Yes, that happens sometimes,” I replied, “but sometimes, something different happens. Sometimes they stop being enemies.” I knew this was going to happen in the book, and it rings true in my own life.

Just today, I had an encounter with a student that made me feel I was in Groundhog Day. During morning duty, I’m charged with keeping all the kids sitting in the hall quietly and the hall calm and to do this, we teachers enforce a basic rule: “You can whisper, but you can’t talk.” Suzie — not her real name, of course — always talks. She speaks in a fairly low voice, but she’s engaging her vocal cords, which means she’s talking. Plus, I can occasionally hear her thirty or forty feet away.

“Suzie, whisper please,” I said calmly. Respectfully. As I’ve done every day I’m on duty for the entire school year. Her response is to quiet her voice at first but to continue talking, not whispering. Her response to being redirected again is to suggest that because other people are also talking, that I’m unfairly targeting her. Today I explained the simple fact: “That’s because you’ve taught me to expect it from you. The other people are not consistently disobeying me. The other students do it once and a while; you do it every single day.” Again — quietly, calmly, respectfully.

Today, I talked to her about it again. It turns out, she doesn’t know what whispering is. “I am whispering,” she insisted. I explained again that if she puts her hand on her throat when she talks and she feels vibrations, she’s not whispering.

“Go ahead, try,” I said, smiling.

“No!” she cried, breaking into a smile herself. “It’s embarrassing!’

I pointed out to her that I wasn’t picking on her, that I in fact like her a lot and see a lot of potential in her. “As long as you can keep these little things under control.” (She also has a tendency to grow increasingly disrespectful when redirected multiple times.)

Here’s a girl that could have easily become my enemy. I could have simply snapped at her, signed her discipline card, or by this time, probably, simply have written an administrative referral. But instead of seeing an enemy, a rebellious little brat (like many adults would), I try to see something a little different: someone who just hasn’t had anyone take the time to show a genuine interest in her regarding the little things. It’s easier just to brush if off with sarcasm or a referral.

The funny thing is, in spite of the fact that she still grows disrespectful with me, I’m fairly certain she doesn’t see me as an enemy either. Sure, it’s not the same as saving the life of the wife of the bandit who threatened to pull all your nose hairs out like Tashi did, but it’s moving in that direction.

Wieliczka Revisited

Wednesday 16 May 2018

Reworked in Lightroom some shots from a few years ago.

Trying

Tuesday 15 May 2018

A busy evening for the Girl. Cross country try-outs from 6:00 to 7:15, then volleyball practice from 7:15 (obviously we were a bit late) to 8:15. Two things — sports, no less — about which she has never shown any interest until the last few weeks and now is bound and determined to participate in.

We arrived ten minutes early, and since the Girl is a rising sixth grader and most of the other kids were already attending the middle school, she stood around and looked like she felt a little lost. Friends were bantering back and forth, and she just stood and watched them.

She missed yesterday’s portion of the try-out due to her final choir concert for her elementary school, so as everyone began repeating the stretching and warm-ups from yesterday, the Girl was left looking around to see how everyone else did it. At one point, to stretch the quads, the coach told the kids to put their right hands on the shoulder of the kid to their right to help with balance. She did so, but the girl to her left didn’t put her hand on L’s shoulder. When it came time to repeat on the left side, L hesitantly reached her hand out to the girl on the left, noticed she still wasn’t balancing herself on anyone and managed to stretch without support.

How well I remember those moments of uncertainty at that age. Always looking about to make sure I’m doing what everyone else is doing. Trying hard not to call attention to myself in any way at all. Truth be told, I still behave that way in new environments with new people, but such a subdued L is an uncommon sight. I felt I was getting a little peek into what her first day of school might be like when, in a few short months, she begins middle school.

When did that happen? When did our little girl become a 5’3″ young lady who no longer looks like a little girl? I knew it was coming, but somehow I’d convinced myself it wasn’t just around the bend.

The try-out itself was instructive, for me and for L. She completed two miles in 22 minutes. It’s probably the longest distance she’s run. I sat in the car, reading (I’ve decided it’s time to reread a book that I promised myself fifteen years ago when I first read it that I would — must — read again, Steinbeck’s East of Eden), and I was aware of kids running in the field in front of the car, so I stopped and watched, waiting for the Girl. I was actually doing a bit of both, so when I didn’t see her, I just thought she’d passed by when I’d looked back down to read for a moment or two. Then I heard the kids behind me, laughing, complaining, resting. I went back to reading when a flash of blue caught my eye: L ran by, alone, dead last.

“I had terrible cramps,” she explained later.

“But do you know how proud you can be of yourself for not stopping?” I asked. It’s a big thing: our princess is learning to finish what she started, no matter what.

We jumped into the car and drove the few miles to the Y, where she’s going to be playing volleyball for the first time.

Almost everyone on the team is a complete beginner, so the coaches have to explain everything. The rules. Rotation. How to pass, to set, to serve. How to move once the ball is in play. At one point, L and a few other girls were on the sideline.

“You have to listen as I’m explaining to the other girls,” one of the coaches explains. “If you’re talking, you’ll have to run laps.”

A few minutes later, I heard him call out, “You three, take a lap!” L and two other girls began jogging around the court. I caught his eye, smiled, and gave him a thumbs up, which he returned, laughing.

After practice, I mentioned that to L: “Good job taking that lap without fussing,” I said.

“I wasn’t actually talking,” she explained. “I was just looking at the girl who was talking.”

“Better still,” I said.

That girl is maturing, I tell you.

Mother’s Day 2018

Sunday 13 May 2018

E was born the day after Mother’s Day in 2012. This year, his birthday falls on the exact same day, the day after we celebrate K and Nana. So it was a long but wonderful day.

Saturday in the Yard

Saturday 12 May 2018

The bushes in front of the house had just gotten out of hand: they shaded almost 3/4 of the height of the windows in E’s and L’s rooms. Every time I trimmed them, K suggested that I didn’t do enough, so today was the day: the bushes were getting violently trimmed.

That was to take only a couple of hours. I’d planned on mowing the backyard, trimming the bushes, mowing the front, and finishing before four. Two things slowed me down: E and the difficulty of radically trimming the bushes.

The Boy always loves helping me mow, which usually entails slipping between me and the upper bar of the lawnmower, resulting in an awkward position for me and generally slow mowing. Today it struck me: our lawnmower has rear-wheel drive, and so theoretically, the Boy could mow all by himself, with me just walking along beside to help control it.

When we got to the flattest portions of the front yard, I let him mow without my hand on the bar to guide it.

“I’ll just let you mow,” I said, “and then the spots you miss, you’ll have to go back and get.”

He loved the idea and promptly went zig-zagging across the yard. He tended to pull to the left, so he made strange arching patterns instead of the regular straight lines I obsessively put into our yard.

The period of time between the first bit of mowing and the second bit (the “flattest portions of the front yard” mentioned above) was approximately six hours, evidenced by the changing shadows in the pictures above.

In the intervening hours, we worked on the bushes. I trimmed; he loaded the cuttings into the wheelbarrow.

When we started, the foliage was so dense that it blocked most of the light and all of the sky.

When we finished, nothing was really blocked. I worried as I cut back the branches that it might be too late for such work, that I might damage the bushes by doing this. In the end, I thought that that might, in fact, be a blessing.

In between the first and the second bushes — lunch and a concert.

K and L spent most of the day inside, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Cleaning clothes, floors, bathrooms, and anything else that would sit still long enough. In the end, though, K had to come out: her garden beckoned.

“When will we ever have a relaxed Saturday?” K asked as we sat on the front steps watching the kids, who still had energy, play in the front yard.

“A relaxed Saturday? What’s that?”

Spent

Wednesday 9 May 2018

After-Dinner Play

Tuesday 8 May 2018

After dinner, everyone went out to practice sports.

The Girl finished her second day of tryouts today, and she came home feeling pessimistic about her chances of making the team. But did she give up? No way. On the way home, she and K stopped by the Y and signed her up for youth volleyball. And after dinner, she was out practicing an overhand serve as well as her underhand serve.

“You really should master the underhand first,” I suggested.

“I know, but this is what we were working on during tryouts today,” she replied.

The Boy finished soccer this weekend, but he’s still keen on practicing. For a while there, I was tossing the ball to L for her to practice passing and trying to kick the ball back to the Boy.

Occasionally, the two activities almost collided.

Finally, the Boy, exhausted, took a break

and then gave me some tree-climbing lessons.

Monday

Monday 7 May 2018

A few Two random thoughts from the day:

The Girl is trying out for volleyball. She started working on her skills Saturday after having bought a ball that morning.

“How did it go?” I asked when I got home.

“I was the worst one there,” came the simple reply.

It turned out that it was a two-day tryout session, and so I immediately wondered if she’d be discouraged from her first experience and say, “I don’t have a chance of making the team. I don’t want to go to the second day.” And I was wondering how I might handle that. Is it something I should make her do in the interest of building character — following through on what you set out to do and all that? Or should we just let it go?

Turns out, the dilemma never presented itself: after gymnastics, she asked if we could go practice volleyball for a few minutes.

Second thought: While the Girl was in volleyball, I did some shopping, and I went through the self-checkout lane when I was done. If they’d had these things in Poland twenty years ago, I might not have stayed. It was tough, those first weeks; it was especially tough making friends when I didn’t speak the language. The store saved me. No self-service there: no, just a counter and a packed shelf behind it, with a sales clerk between you and your merchandise. So I had to ask for every single item. Which led to funny mistakes and misunderstandings. Which led to laughter. Which led to friendships.

 

End of Spring 2018 Soccer

Saturday 5 May 2018

The Boy finished his second season of soccer. It was a successful season, no doubt. Talking to the coach during Monday’s practice, I heard the kind of praise about one’s child that parents dream of. “He’s really got something,” he said. “He plays thoughtfully. He watches. He thinks. He doesn’t just barge in. He waits for a moment.” This jives with E’s own description of his strategy: “I just run around the edge [of the pack of children all trying to gain access to the ball] and wait for a good moment.”

(Click on the images for a larger view.)

After the game, spring planting. The Girl decided she wanted to help. Wanted to drive the stakes that will hold our simple borders in place. Wanted to rake the soil one last time. Wanted to put the young plants in the ground.

(Click on the images for a larger view.)

The Boy, just having woken up from a nap, had to fight for his right to drive a few stakes in…

Returning to the Old

Thursday 3 May 2018

Looking at old photos.

Found a few that needed Lightroom attention.

Attention given.

Herding

Wednesday 2 May 2018

We took Clover for her first intermediate-level training session tonight. I was a little worried about it: we’ve been neglecting her training, and I thought for the first few minutes that the Dog might not be up to par with the other students in terms of obedience. Once she calmed down a bit though — she’s always so excited around new dogs — she did just fine.

The trainer, who was a different young lady from the trainer who led us through the beginner training, mentioned that she used to train Border Collies almost exclusively. K and I looked at each other, knowing exactly what the other was thinking.

After class, we asked her about some of Clover’s issues, specifically her continued nipping. She explained that we needed to provide her with a way to exercise that instinct — she is a herding breed, after all — in play and not with us. She suggested using a yoga ball. “It’s too big for her to get her mouth around, so she can’t pop it. But it’s big enough that she can nose it around, which is what she needs.”

L just happens to have a yoga ball. It’s now Clover’s.

In short, she went wild. She pushed that silly ball all over the backyard, nipping at it, herding it.

Sunday Evening Downtown

Sunday 29 April 2018

K and I left the kids with the grandparents and headed downtown for some dinner and a walk. It’s one of those things that we keep putting off, and as soon as we do it, I find myself thinking, “Dang, we ought to do this more often.” We could skip dinner for all I care and just have the walk and the chat.

Greenville has really grown in the last eleven years. The downtown park has expanded and what was once simply wild space next to the park has been incorporated and cultivated enough to make it look like a park but left wild enough to still make you think, “Is this really just a few hundred meters from the heart of downtown?”

With all the cold weather of late, I think everyone in the county was eager to get outside at some point this weekend, and what better time than the last few hours of the weekend?

This week we’re staring down is the first of May, and May has always been a rough month for us. E’s birthday, end-of-school activities at school, Memorial Day — it all piles up.