Ode to Spring Soccer

  (Twelve steps for cold, muddy misery:)

1. Rush through homework, skip dinner, change out of uniforms...

all...

because... 

of ... 

SPRING SOCCER. 

*Heavenly choir*

2. Dress five-year-old in heavily gauged plastic shields. Strategically place over shins.  
This is in case of attack.

3. Place expensive, uncomfortable, fashionable shoes on five-year-old's feet.  Attach dangerous spikes to bottom of said shoes to ward off assault from other participants. Feel comforted that five-year-old is wearing her shin shields for gosh sakes! Reason that the added mud and grass ALL over truck is worth it.

4. Important: Forget to dress children for Louisiana's freaking hot/cold, menopausal weather especially so you can win the idiot mom award...again. Leave house with light sweaters and jackets. Don't bother with hats, warm coats or any of that tomfoolery. It's February after all.

5. Drive to soccer. Psyche five-year-old into playing.

6. Get five children out of truck and navigate to one soccer field that is eight miles away from mode of transportation. Wait for five-year-old to rapidly dissolve into a puddle of blubbering incoherent tears (apparent fear of peers in cleats).

7. Bribe five-year-old with every imaginable toy, treat, and tantalizing temptation you can think of. Be flatly repudiated. The past five and a half years mean nothing. 

You are dead to her.

8. Spend 15 minutes playing soccer with other little people while simultaneously entertaining and freaking out baby on hip.

9. Throughout duration, ignore the five-year-old who sleeps in your home, and who is standing on sidelines, crying, blowing snot bubbles and complaining of low temperatures.

Pretend it's all so fun.

10. Last five minutes; give five-year-old your sweater to layer with and wipe nasal mucus on.

 11. Stop for a moment to ponder. To wonder why you're playing soccer with a bunch of midget people shorter than you are. Work through the name confusion of other girl on team named, "Sarah."  Realize sadly no one was cheering for you to begin with. 

12. Leave... towing five muddy, cold, whiny, and crying kids.

Yay spring soccer. 

YOU SUCK!

(Plus my sweater's all snotty.)

Soccer Shoes

 

 

Any questions?

Hello February!

I keep meaning to write. 

My goal for this year was to post twice a week.

Eh.

Life happens.

We started last Saturday out like this:

Sort of.

I'm still not sure exactly what's going on with our dear old van. But it might be a head gasket. Hopefully we find out on Monday. We were on our way home from a basketball game...

*chunk* *chunk* **chunk*
*sputter* *sputter* *sputter* *sputter*

We broke down just as we pulled into a gas station on post. Another mommy friend of mine came and loaded us up into her minivan and brought us home.

After our van broke down, we spent Sunday getting it to a shop. My superhero neighbors watched the kids and helped me drive it to the mechanic.

All the kids have been fighting off colds. And, we've had some crazy rain:

 

By Wednesday, it was Jack's 8th birthday. While I knew we weren't going to have his party that day, I wanted to do something special for him. First I thought we'd go to a movie, but there were no kids movies showing. So, then we settled for pizza and grabbing ice cream on the way home.

(We're borrowing superhero neighbor's truck.)
He got a call from my little brothers on the way.
That made him happy.

 In fact. As you can see...everyone seems pretty happy.

And, not sick.

So. We got ate at Fox's Pizza (Love their pizza! Plus, I can feed all the kids with their, "Big Daddy" cheese pizza, for 15 bucks.), stopped by Walmart for some ice cream. And, after one gum stealing incident, two lectures for karate chopping displays, and one, "Yes, they're all mine" conversation, we were on our way!

By the time we got home, every. single. child. was asleep. But I roused them with promises of ice cream and sprinkles...and we ventured forth.

By the time we had our coats off, Jack was moaning:

  

He had a fever and chills, and went to bed early. Poor birthday boy.

The rest of the kids finished their ice cream.


Apparently the sugar jacked Grant up so much...he forgot to watch out for walls:

He got the second largest goose-egg I've ever seen, after running into the corner of a wall. (Lincoln gets the #1 prize. He got one even bigger when Jason opened a door into his head the night Kennedy was born. Crazy day.) Don't worry. We put ice on it. His face doesn't look like that anymore.

After that we settled down to watch a movie. Reagan spiked a fever and fell asleep on the couch:

I love that she's trying to shove her hands down her pants.

(Yes. We live in a very beige/tan world. Tan walls, tan carpet, tan couch. Believe me. It's not planned. I'm just too poor and lazy to buy a new couch or paint.)

When she woke up, Lincoln picked her up and she cuddled with him on the couch. I wasn't trying to be a bad mom and ignore her. But I was helping Jack in the other room. I'm so thankful for Lincoln. He's been an awesome help this week.

A few hours later she was calling for me in her bed. I picked her up just in time to be puked on. I didn't take a picture.  She was AMAZED at the whole throwing-up process. Too giddy with discovery to be too miserable. It was SO funny.

Reagan's still running a fever. Kennedy's been coughing nonstop since Thursday. I've only slept a few hours  during the past four nights.

So this week has been pretty craptastic.
Sick kids, messy house, broken down car.
Kind of typical life stuff. We all have weeks like this...

In all this, God has really been showing me how much my material possessions are not mine. My money. My van. My house. How... He has given me all these things. Every single time we are in want of something...He supplies it. Always.  Sending angels in disguise. Neighbors. Friends. Strangers. And, yet...I still stress about money. I still worry about what other people think when there's a lack of it. I still want to hold onto it. Here He is, over and over again; supplying for our needs and wants supernaturally.

It's humbling.

He's telling me to trust Him. He asking me to have faith.

Even in the area of our finances.

And, I think it's about time I listened.