Thursday Thesicle

Sometimes gift bags are better used as goalie pads.

Papa Meets Teddy and some Firsts

Late last night my parents flew in on a plane from Idaho. So this morning Papa got to meet little Teddy for the first time! He was, of course, smiling and cooing and loved his Papa right away.

Teddy also had a couple other firsts yesterday: his first swing on a real, outside swing, and his first experience with an exersaucer. His first roll-over is under review. Here are the ranging swing emotions:

Mild concern

Cautious intrigue

Unexpected elation

Pure enjoyment

The part where he tries to eat the zipper on his jacket

What, this old swing? Been swingin' in it for years. NBD

We were loaned an exersaucer (see below if you don't speak modern parenting tongue) that Teddy is barely big enough for. His little toes barely touch the bottom. He likes it, but I think Cal and Clark like it more than Teddy.

So much to look at/listen to/touch/eat

The boys claim that Teddy rolled over the other day. I think he came very close to rolling over and was physically encouraged to roll over by an older brother. But both older brothers are banding together and claiming that he really rolled over all by himself. The weird thing is that I haven't seen an actual roll-over since the alleged roll-over. 

Teddy's first roll-over?

We spent Papa and Grandma's first day with their grandsons playing a lot of sports. Papa and the boys had a rousing, and probably irresponsible hockey game inside, we all played baseball outside, football outside, and, much to the chagrin of our downstairs neighbor, a little football inside. We also did some picnicking, grocery shopping, cooking, and took in the first innings of the first game of the World Series(Red Sox, yay!). Now Grandma and Papa have escaped the crazy world of our condo and are sleeping quietly in their comfortable quarters at Brian's parents' house. And we have a whole six and a half days left with them!

Brothers!

(looks like a) Selfie!

Teddy is concerned by the picnic

Is Teddy really Teddy when his hair isn't showing?

Clark, rockin' the homemade sports jersey (masking tape number)

Scored the double steering wheel cart at the supermarket!

Being a Port-a-Potty Doorstop

We decided to take the three boys to Brian’s softball game the other night. The weather was beautiful and perfect for the boys to run around and get tons of energy out. They always go to the games with Brian, even when I can’t because they are in heaven, running like wild creatures all over the ball field complex and running the bases whenever there’s a break in action. Those times though, Brian’s mom is usually at the game too, able to keep an eye on them when Brian is in the field and dugout and when he’s batting. They come home with every inch of their bodies covered in dirt, except for those bright white eyes, brimming with crazed, slightly-tamed mischief, and Brian throws them in the bathtub.

This tradition of boys’ night at the ballpark started when I was pregnant and has continued after I’ve had Teddy to watch. I don’t know why we felt the need to change things up that night and let loose the wild things with only me, tied to an infant, to keep them in line. But alas, we did.

Like I said- beautiful night, it started off great with the boys running down the hill in the slanted early evening sunshine from the parking lot to the field, me pushing Teddy in the stroller and feeling all maternal and fulfilled. How naïve I was.

Soon Cal needed to pee. Teddy was fussing in the stroller. There were port-a-pottys close so I told Cal and Clark to go over to one of them, Clark stand by the door while Cal went in and used it and then run back for hand sanitizing. They were uncertain of doing this without me, but somehow they managed it and I didn’t ask for details when they came back.

Of course after awhile Clark needed to go, and by then Teddy was full-on hungry and I was looking for a secluded area in which to nurse him. Clark refused to go potty with only Calvin there by the door so I grudgingly told him I’d go with them. It was then he informed me and the entire group of spectators that he had to poop. Of course he did. Now what?

I pulled the stroller over to the door of the port-a-potty and propped the door open with it. The stench was as bad as you’d expect it to be. I told Cal his job was to stand right by Teddy as I aided Clark, balancing over the precipice of blue water littered with floating feces. Just don’t puke, Dawn. Remember you’re the mom. First he peed and it went all over the back of his pants, so that was a nice start to the experience. Then came the poop. Fortunately there was toilet paper and I quickly took care of things, holding my breath. Teddy started crying and Cal was loudly complaining about the smell and that the door was heavy. It felt like everyone was watching us, a stroller propping open the port-a-potty, two whining boys, and a crying baby. Was this really what my life had become? A port-a-potty doorstop? I wanted to run away.

Anyway, Clark got cleaned up and I deemed that his wet pants were okay for him to keep playing in the dirt. Plus I needed to nurse so the baby would shut up. As we were walking out, Clark said he needed to go again. Are you freaking kidding me? I told Cal to stay with him and I left to nurse, ignoring Clark calling that he wanted me there. Bad mom? Maybe.

I found a semi-secluded area on the other side of a little hill behind home plate. I pulled out my handy nursing cover and got down to business. I was about halfway done when I looked up and saw Clark, pants and underwear around his ankles, doing a shuffle toward me in full view of all spectators. Excellent. Gravel crunched loudly around his feet and I closed my eyes in disbelief.

So, just to summarize in case you missed something: I had a boob in a baby’s mouth, a child coming toward me with no pants or underwear on in full view of the public, yelling at me that he needed help, and a third child laughing at his naked brother. Clark got to me and I made him sit in the grass and take everything off while I finished nursing and then I took out the spare clothes that I have learned to take everywhere with boys.

It felt like everyone in both fields must have seen what was going on with us, and be laughing, but Brian hadn’t even noticed any of the episode. Granted, he was in the outfield, but still I was surprised. We all sanitized up and then the boys proceeded to roll in the dirt and gravel, run through tall grass, and slide into home plate. Teddy finally fell asleep, and we eventually left.

I swear I’ll never do it again, no matter how beckoning the weather, until they are all teenagers. 

Teddy, before the night digressed

The three boys, NOT being disgusting 

Clark in the Batter's Box

The boys love baseball. This is largely due to the fact that Brian and I love baseball and also that we're teachers, so explaining things to kids is kind of second nature to us. As situations come up, we explain them, usually in detail. And we watch and listen to a lot of the Nats games. They know way more about baseball than I did at their age.

We play baseball with them at the playground, the park, the yard (though I've been pretty slow in this department this spring), we play baseball with them in the living room, we watch them playing baseball together all the time- inside and outside- and we overhear them talking about baseball too. But they don't only talk about hitting the ball and pitching the ball, they talk about intentional walks and old school windups and fastballs and sliders and split-finger change-ups. They wonder about bad calls and ejections and pick-offs and steal signs. Why isn't there a second base coach, only first and third? They practice their bunting and their diving catches and their double-play transfers. They work out. They slam into fences (walls of the house) and rob hitters of home runs. They slide head-first and feet-first into bases. And they do each play at least twice, because there's always the slow-motion replays that need to happen. It's a little out of control.

A couple weeks ago at the pool we ran into some friends from Blastball. Clark went over to the little boy, who was busy watching other kids playing in the water and hadn't seen us. Clark leaned over right to his ear, and announced proudly in his deepest announcer's voice, "It's Claaaaaaaark Crossssssson!" I realize this will only be cute for a little while longer.

Sometimes Clark will be gazing quietly into the distance and then ask me, "Do you know what I'm thinking about?" No, Clark, tell me. "I'm thinking about my diving catch I made in Blastball." (This catch, while impressive, was at least two months ago.)

Well, as of last night we have proof that they not only play and talk about baseball every day, they also dream about it. Brian got Clark up to take him to the bathroom at about 11pm. As he lifted Clark up out of his bed into a standing position on the floor, Clark said, in his announcer's voice, "Clark's in the batter's box!"

He did go potty, so I guess he had a productive at-bat.

I'm wondering how the little ball players will include Baby Peapod in their play as he gets older. I bet he'll develop into one heck of a backstop.

Blastball-ers in a scramble for the ball

Father's Day

I was hoping I could give Brian another baby for Father's Day today...but I guess Peapod is happy with his current residential situation, so we'll keep waiting for him to decide he needs more space.

Instead we had an ordinary day. The boys and I made breakfast for Brian- bacon and egg sandwiches. We went to church. We went grocery shopping. We went to the driving range for the boys to golf. I ate chocolate. Brian made yummy chicken salad sandwiches. We watched baseball on TV. I cut the boys' hair. The boys and Brian had a loud, rowdy game of a cross between tag, hide and seek, and wrestling. We called our fathers. Clark insisted on calling Grandma to tell her Happy Father's Day. I ate more chocolate. Cal drew a house and practiced drawing eights and other "beautiful things." Clark colored a motorcycle. Cal told me he wished we were having a girl so she could have my face, because my face is cute. Awww.

Here are some pictures.

Working on breakfast

a little pepper...

Assembling the sandwiches

Golfin'  with Dad

They look so little with their haircuts!

Setting up...

The lefty drives

The righty aims

Water break

"Drawing beautiful things"

Clark's Happy Father's Day sign

Cal's sign

I'd also like to say Happy Father's Day to my dad, who turned 60 this week!

 And to my husband, who I was hoping to make a father times three today, but didn't quite make it...

And I'm glad they both get along so beautifully together.

From the Blastball Journals

When I first heard that the earliest the boys could play T-ball here is age four, I was kind of bummed. I envisioned them getting starting sooner for some reason. (Tiger Mom alert) The T-ball program for four year-olds is called Blastball and after reading the description I was skeptical. Then when I found out the cut-off date for playing in the spring was April 30th and the boys birthday is April 29th, I felt pretty great. They had almost had to wait until the fall to play. Phew. The Blastball commissioner (yes, that's a thing) asked for parent coaches and so I volunteered Brian and myself to coach the boys' team of six boys. The Red Wings.

The Mighty Red Wings

The first practice the boys were super excited...until they found out there is only one base in Blastball. That's right. The batter hits the ball off the tee and runs to first base, which squeaks like a rubber ducky when he steps on it. If the batted ball doesn't cross a line that is straight out in front of home plate about 10 feet, the batter gets to try again. After reaching first base, he returns to his team behind home plate to the whoops and cheers of parents. Meanwhile the team on defense has to stand behind the line and try to stop the ball. Sometimes after kids stop it (or it rolls to a stop) they throw it toward first base where a coach is, but usually it just rattles around on the ground for awhile while the kids dive for it, narrowly missing each other's heads. Oh, and most kids don't use gloves in the field. And certainly not the batting gloves that my boys think they need to use.

On the way to the first practice

Even though the rules sounded lame to me at first, during the first game I realized that this is totally appropriate play for most of these kids. Anything more would be a stretch for many of them. I'd say about half of the kids can't quite hit the ball far enough on the first or second try (and some can't manage to get it past the line at all) and it's pretty common to see a kid or two wandering off in the middle of play-- telling his mom that his pants feel weird or that he wants a snack or a high five or is ready to bat now.


However, as suspected, Cal and Clark are quite the contrast to the meandering,  reluctant ball player. On Friday nights they hang up their jerseys on their closet doors. Saturday morning they wake up and "need privacy" to get dressed in their "locker room" (bedroom). They wanted to wear belts the first day. (They don't have belts) They love it. Even though there are no outs and no runs and no winning, they love being out there decked out in their jerseys and hats with their teammates and often smashing the ball over everyone's heads.

Speaking of heads, they're developing rather big ones, too. At the second game, Clark made a diving catch. He actually dove, caught the ball in his glove, held onto it, and fired it to first base. Not a common Blastball sight. He then raised his hands in the air and loudly declared to everyone, "I didn't know I would make an amazing catch!" He then immediately ran off the field and high-fived me, Gammy, and the other Red Wings parents...and then the River Dogs parents...oops. Their bragging so far hasn't been bad in front of other players, but at home they've both repeatedly told us how good they are at baseball. We're trying to agree with them but also tell them it's not a nice thing to say...which is a confusing concept to them I think.

Game time!

Ready position! Alligator arms!

Cal winds up

Clark in action

After the games a parent brings snacks which usually involves Gatorade that the boys importantly swig down while swaggering around talking about the good game, and their made-up score (which always favors the Red Hawks) and how tired they are from playing so hard. (This often sounds like a postgame player interview.)

We're fortunate in that the other boys on the team are also pretty enthusiastic about baseball, with just one meandering, gum-chewing, adorable exception. The parents are great too, and all eager to be involved. There is supposed to be a parent with each child even at practice and it's not common that we have two parents and two grandparents for one child even at practice. We've already had a little after-practice pizza party at a local restaurant and the opening day Little League parade.

It's all adorable and fun and I'm really glad I have little boys who love baseball. Maybe we can get them into real T-ball in the fall even though they won't be five...hmm. Tiger Mom out.

Bonus: YouTube video of Cal and Clark hitting

4 Year-Olds' Sports Party

Since the boys are obsessed with sports, as I've written about here, we decided to have a sports birthday party for them. Last year it was astronauts and space robots they were obsessed with, but that phase is over and now every day is a sports day.

We borrowed sports equipment from several different friends, and set up Gammy and Poppy's yard and driveway with a baseball field, soccer field, basketball court, golf course, football field, and hockey rink. I asked everyone to wear jerseys for the occasion. We set up a popcorn machine and smoothie station on the deck, grilled hot dogs and hamburgers, and also had the sand table out which is always a big hit with the kids.

The past few years we've also had their birthday parties at Gammy and Poppy's house in their nice backyard and we had two beautiful days for the parties. Not so this year. About 45 minutes to an hour into the party it started raining. So we had somewhere around 60 people (half of them little people) all over in the house, with some brave ones still playing outside for awhile. It was disappointing, but obviously we knew the risk of planning such a party and we had to get over it.

I made baseball and football cupcakes for dessert. The boys and I had partially made two pinatas but I ran out of steam and never got them painted. That turned out fine actually, because doing a pinata in the house would have been a disaster, as would have been a soggy pinata outside. I got foam pennants and stickers for the kids to each decorate a pennant to take home. The favor bags were wrapped up like peanuts at a ball game.

Here are some pictures.

The boys helping put all the names on the pennants a few days before

My baseball and football cupcakes

Goodie bags wrapped like hot peanuts

Pennants to decorate

Just a ball player hydratin' 

Gammy the smoothie queen/popcorn machine runner

Brian decorated by hanging jerseys on the fences

Backyard

Four year-old birthday ball players

Pennants!

Fierce!

More athlete brothers

Henry's first pennant

So THAT's where all the lady bug stickers went...

Alex was so excited to give the boys their gift...

It's more twin brother athletes! (upside-down)

My Baby Alex is growing up!

Santiago preferred to decorate the back of his, so...

Upside down and hidden Oliver

Clark photo-bombs Sonja's delightful pennant picture.

Pretty Rebecca

Some sports snuggling with Aunt Julie

That's an intense hockey player with Uncle A

Another set of helmets to add to the collection...

Capitals bobbleheads and other Caps gear from Gammy and Poppy
They'll even get to ice skate at the Caps practice facility!

From what I've heard, even though much of the party ended up being inside,
the kids still had enough fun to be completely wiped out.

We've spent the last week enjoying all kinds of new toys from our kind friends and family. Here is some documentation of the fun the boys have had with their new things.

Thanks to Grandma, Papa, Great Grandma, and Cowboy Grandpa,
these boys have scooters, helmets, pads, and ferocity. 

They LOVE their umbrellas from Alex! We had three rainy days to try them out.

Radio-controlled cars from cousins have been motoring
all over the house. Soon we'll try them out in water, too!

Golf gear and an inside putting hole have been a big hit.

A soccer ball to decorate, awesome place-mat doodle pads, art supplies...

Today they got to try out the golf shirts and hats.

Yep, they work

They tried out the scooters and new caped superhero shirts.

Alex tended to Clark's boo-boo. Shouldn't have taken the helmet off...

The radio control also works as a tool for knee surgery on RG3.

We are so blessed by our family and friends who helped make the party fun and the birthday special for the boys. Thank you. They are constantly telling everyone that they are now four years old. Brian and I cannot believe it! These years are going so quickly.