In the midst of pool sounds, some of which were happy, some of which were fight-y, I sneaked a peek at World Cup action. And in doing so, I unexpectedly had my life-isn’t-about-you, it’s-best-to-work-together, never-quit sails filled as I did. For a little background, I’m a soccer novice. Soccer was around when I was young, but I don’t remember it much. Football – YES. Tennis, yes. Softball, volleyball, basketball, and swimming – check. But not soccer. At least not in West Texas. So when I met Jon when we were getting our MBAs at Thunderbird, I really had very little soccer knowledge. It’s hard to imagine we made it past that – considering soccer was Jon’s life. Jon grew up in Bolivia and played the game from the moment he took his first steps. It’s what they did. Kids
“It was so great,” my daughter told us while driving home. Her sister and I had just picked Snopes up after a week at camp. “But I didn’t have a ‘mountaintop’ experience,” she added thoughtfully. “You know, some life changing experience like I hear people talk about.” I was surprised when my daughter signed up to serve at the camp. Not because she’s one to shy away from serving. She genuinely enjoys helping. Her natural giftedness centers on caring for others. My surprise at her signing up to serve for a week at camp had nothing to do with serving, but everything to do with “camp.” My kids, though I desperately tried to make them, don’t much like camp. I’ve forced them all to try. Because camp – in so many ways – is good for kids.
“I need some help,” my friend said as she grabbed my arm. I trailed behind her and a very unsure little boy to the lane in which he was to swim at a swim meet yesterday. Her six-year-old was second guessing his pending participation in relay race. I was at the meet to watch Fury. Okay, so most of the parents and families watched. I yet again failed to restrain my inner swim coach, stood on the side of the pool, and yelled encouragement to my child in the water. How does everyone do it? Keep themselves politely engaged and happy without all the “GO! GO! PULL! YOU’VE GOT IT!!!!”s escaping their mouths at full volume. Between that and my talking too much, I need help – probably in the form of a straight-jacket on my mouth. My sweet parents came to watch Fury swim, too. It was like old home week for them. They spent
“Is this cheese still good?” my daughter asks me while holding a container of shredded Parmesan. “I don’t know,” I reply. “Maybe.” Then I do what moms so often do in a pinch, add a little dose of practical and float an answer that should work – especially in those times when we don’t know the answer “…. Smell it.” “What?” she gasps standing with the refrigerator door still open. “You always say that. What if it’s rotten and I eat it?! I could get sick! I might die!!” “Oh my word.” I grab the container. I open it, smell it, and hand it back. “It’s fine.” Smell it works with most dairy products and sandwich meat. I’ve also used it with clothing, as it relates to worthiness of wear. Smell it promotes independence and responsibility as it encourages a child to rely on themselves