HIstory repeats itself.. or did I say that already?

So, I was sitting in the car and glancing back at my youngest son. I see out of the corner of my eye that he is sticking his hand into an empty cup and grabbing ice and sucking on it, then.. to my horror.. spitting it on my floor! In my car! How could confuse it with a stable floor for Pete's sake! So, in my best admonishing voice, I tell him to stop and how disgusting that is.. and yada, yada, yada.. (because you know that all he really heard anyhow) and then turn back in my seat feeling very proud of how I handled it.

Then, because I am a woman and mother, therefore, suspicious, I glance back again. And yes, you have it.. his hand was in the cup. I do the death stare at him and he promptly pulls it out again. I turn back around, glance back-- he is doing it again. I give him the REALLY HARD death stare, and he pulls his hand out. I turn away, then back... and.. HIS HAND IS IN THE CUP AGAIN! But, this time.. he has a smile on his face and his eyes are narrowed to let me know-- he is enjoying this! I whip around to face front and realize.. to my horror...I have seen this before.

I flash back to the early part of my life. Pre kids, pre adult life.. just me and my sister in the grocery store with my parents. I can see my little sister pushing the cart and my dad saying to her... " don't' move the cart-- I will be right back" and going around the corner to grab something. (OK.. obviously I am old and this was back in a world where you could go around the corner of the grocery store and not worry of pedophiles or mass murders lying in lurk) .. anyhow.. there is my little sister.. waiting on my dad to turn the corner and .. she moved the cart. Just a small bit, but she did. My dad comes back.. stares at the cart and says-- "I told you not to move it." He goes in search of something else.. and she then pushed the cart a bit more forward. He turns around and glares at her and she stands there innocently looking at beans or something. He turns away.. and this time , my little sister goes in a flat run to the end of the aisle with the cart. My dad blows a gasket.. saying.. "I told you not to move the cart!"

I remember this being hysterical at the time, I remember laughing until my sides hurt. Why am I not laughing now? Oh yeah-- because basically, I am my dad now. What I find so incredible is that really, my youngest child acts a great deal like my younger sister! It could be birth order, it could be that she was around so much when he was a baby, or it just could be that I am destined to repeat my dad's parental agonies if I don't learn to see the humor in it all.

And mind, you, it was funny seeing him try to slip his hand in there without my seeing it. And while I cant stand for the spitting part, I can learn to see the humor in history repeating itself and hope that it will continue to do so for them when they are older... because what is it that our parents always said?

Oh yeah..."Just wait to till you have your own kids..."

The power of zen

Some of you wonder about my zen title. I earned this title the hard way. My sister dubbed me the zenmama when I was pregnant with my oldest and was sick to my stomach. She would rub my back and whisper.. you are a zen mama... and it has stuck. Still to this day when I feel sick.. I can hear her whisper, you are the zen mama.
My sister is truly the most zen person I know. While I have the nickname, if you know me at all --you know that as for me and my house-- we are not so zen. My sis however, is for reals zen. She meditates in a Korean Buddhist Zen Center.. and as of last night, I was informed that she is going to be a Zen Nun. All that I learn about harmony and peace, I learn from her. She is one with the earth and I am scattering across it.
The great thing is... being that its just the two of us.. we take great joy in giggling over ridiculous stuff. When she told me she is going to be a zen nun, I immediately said.. a Zen mama and a Zen nun.. and then we laughed and laughed. Then, she added... that while she is meditating in a Zen Center.. she is working .. in the Catholic church doing office work. I mean, you just gotta love that! (we are a Catholic family in case you are not aware of it)
And you wonder why I am a zen mama....
The thing is, of all she has taught me about her practice, there is not one thing I don't find beautiful. Strike that-- it seems there is some practice of drinking pickled water with rice bits floating in it.. and I find THAT not so beautiful... but everything else is simply amazing. Frankly, I think I do the name disservice... but it holds a sentimental meaning for me-- so I maintain it. But, truth be told.. I am not zen in any way, shape, or form. I am frantic and explosive in emotions and spirit. I know no strangers. I will talk to a tree if left alone long enough. Yet, I learn from my peaceful sister so may things that I pass on to the masses.. and in that.. we are a complete circle.
And that folks, is the power of Zen.....

What's for lunch?

I recently got to go out to lunch with my friend. It was an exciting thing-- it was our first lunch together after all, and we were bringing our two boys along so we could chat while they chatted. We were going to out local eatery area-- so that we had plenty to chose from and every one could be happy.. and again.. this was exciting! (ok so if you are rolling your eyes at what I find exciting.. you are not a parent of the young) Anyhow.. on with my story.

So, we meet and we chat and we happily decide on Chinese. We giggle thru line, tell a couple jokes, discuss the variations of food to chose from, and then happily pay for our warm and steaming meal and go find a place to sit. We are sitting there, the 4 of us, happy and laughing over our various ideas of funny and all of a sudden, it came to a screeching halt.

My friend was staring at her meal. Her chicken on her fork is wrapped in a long hair. I mean WRAPPED. It went around it several times. As if that is bad enough, she then tells me that she found a smaller "fuzzy" piece earlier in the meal but convinced herself it was her own. This is disturbing. I looked up to see the woman behind the counter with her obviously not working hair net and wonder-- how often does this happen and we not know about it???

Those of you who know me personally know I can be a tad OCD. As I sat there and watched-- at least 10 people went thru the same line as us and bought food and went on their way to eat that food. There is a high chance that they would never know about the Rapunzel length hair that we had encountered in our lunch. Does this scare anyone besides me? How many meals have I eaten that moments before someone else was finding disgusting evidence of poor hygiene in. *insert green face here*

Needless to say, and much to my delight, my friend got back her money from the lunch-- and mine. So there is such a thing as a free lunch-- it just sometimes comes with foreign objects in it.

Really? Another baseball blog?

Ok.. so I know it seems nuts that I keep writing about sports. I swear, my soul must have been hijacked. But yes, this is another blog on baseball.. but this time.. its on my utter disappointment.

My youngest is on a team that has a great bunch of parents. I am pretty lucky that both of the teams I currently sit on have a terrific group I can hob nob along side of. My youngest team however, has a severe lack of leadership when it comes to the head coach. He is young, so I will give him the benefit of the doubt.. but we are several games -- and more than several practices-- into the season and I am not seeing anything resembling leadership coming from him. I will concur that for the age group of 5 and 6 year old, this can be a trying sport to teach. However, I have video of this coach throwing the ball to himself during the games and ignoring the players.. leaving them to run and get out on a base because they still are not sure WHERE to run or WHEN!! It strikes me as odd that he would even be out there with them if there is such a obvious lack of enthusiasm. I heard from others that you get career points if you volunteer for things like coaching and it helps with promotion. Now, I wont knock anyone for trying to make rank-- in our game-- its what you do. Its all about the rank. BUT-- to do so at the expense of a bunch of kids is shameless. It has gotten bad enough that the parents have bounded together to "fire " him. Yes, we are trying to "fire" a volunteer. It's nothing I am proud about. I am usually so supportive of volunteers. But at this stage, its about my kid getting the skills he needs to play and finding enjoyment from it. I want Aj to go out to the diamond and understand what its all about. Where first is.. how to have a stance.. how to throw.. how to bat! Currently, we have become so frustrated that the dads (and some moms) have gotten out there to take over coaching. Really.. should it be to this point?

I know it seems a silly thing to rant about, but I paid money for him to join this league.. I expect some type of preparation for a game. I want my child to have pride and since Aj seriously has the natural gift to play... I want him to enjoy it!

Why is it so hard to find a coach who will help in that area?

No zen here! None!

Take me out.....

Its that time of year again.. baseball is upon us. I love this time of year. First off, its the one sport I understand AND enjoy. I rest certain in the fact that it due to my dads love for the sport and then the gradual transition into boyfriends and eventually my husband loving the sport. It was always easy for me to sit and converse about it with various members of the Y chromosome. I remember as a young girl hearing my dad explain to me "foul balls, RBIs, bunting and stealing bases". I grew up knowing what the phrase Dodger Blue meant and hearing the game on radios when we were away from a TV. Yes, baseball reminds me of my youth so it holds a dear spot forever in my heart.
However, as I grow older and I have my own boys, I realize that while baseball holds a spot in my past.. it is very much a part of my present now. Both my boys are playing again this year. I am always slightly amazed at how well they can play sports, (this naturally comes from their father.) He, as well, can play any sport with ease and perfection. Both boys seem to be on that track. But even if they were the worst kids out there on the field, I would live to sit out there and watch my children play. I can sit in the warmth of the sun on the bleachers and watch as the balls get hit-- or missed-- and feel the undeniable joy that comes with feeling one's youth whilst watching the next generation. And how can you not get a smile on your face when you are first hand witness to the look of bliss on a child's face when they hit a ball or make it to a base? How can I help but appreciate and absorb the feeling of success and excitement that comes with rounding third and crossing home plate? Even pick up games, with kids laughing in the fields and hitting balls with their friends. Its a wonder to watch. its a wonder to feel.
I guess that's why this time of year is so great to me.. watching little league or major leagues -- its all the same.. it all is my proverbial fountain of youth. And I bask in it happily.
Take me out to a ball game...

Ever?

Ever been so happy and you don't really know why?
It could be a million things...
the kids cleaning their rooms unasked,
getting a good parking spot,
getting work done ahead of schedule...
bills all paid and money left over,
your favorite movie is on TV,
anything
but whatever that "thing" is..
or all of them put together...
it makes you so happy..
so blissfully happy,
that you don't want the day to end,
that you don't want the moment to fade
that you don't want to remember what unhappiness is..
and you are just so very thankful for it.
That's me today--
that's me now
feeling the zen...

A ball of a time.

My new workout consists entirely of the ball. I sit on the ball to do weights. I sit on the ball to do sit ups. I lay on the ball to do back sit ups-- I am pretty sure that's the technical name for it. I LAY on the ball in a plank like formation to do more weights. It is not a graceful act. Scratch that... my BFF does it and she looks graceful-- therefor, it is not a graceful act for me. I tend to be cussing quietly under my tongue.. with a look of annoyance on my face.. and that takes the grace right out of the picture. My question is this: when did a ball become not fun? I look at balls now and my stomach immediately remembers to hold itself in. One would think with a giant silver ball to sit on, a workout would be fun! One would be mistaken. My scary trainer has us doing it on the ball because it saves time and works out several areas all at once. While this can be seen as a good thing, currently sitting here typing is making my abs ache.
All because of a ball.