Spring Back

I feel spring. Not the way I used to feel it--coaxing sunshine, green shoots, soft air--but the way it feels with four active boys and two active church callings--jammed calendar, impossible schedules, exhausting, oppressive. I fear the end of affordable oil, but wouldn't life be easier if orchestra teachers COULDN'T plan back to back concerts across town from each other? If schools couldn't afford to bus your kid to the school 30 minutes away and had to let him bike to the one five minutes down the road? If we literally couldn't make it to the huge list of activities planned by church, school, lacrosse, soccer, piano, voice, cello? Yes, I chose some of this for myself and my kids, but still, I can't help but sometimes wish for a sort of transportation breakdown that leaves me stranded at home.

The Mumford boys got a shout out in Sacrament Meeting today from the Bishop. He was telling a classic story of what the Mumfords know as FTPA (failure to plan ahead, or ready fire aim syndrome), and he looked down at our bench and said, "I can just see the Mumford boys doing this." True, but slightly funny from a man whose own son broke his wrist longboarding, and (since he could still ride) broke his collar bone doing the same thing the very next week.

Zach ref'ed his first games Saturday. This required a ridiculous amount of behind the scenes work by me. But still it was mostly satisfying to watch him stride out onto the pitch in his ref uniform. It would have been TOTALLY satisfying, except that the uni featured shorts with a 2.5 inch inseam and a V necked, short sleeved shirt, and the outside temp was about 37 degrees F.

The website dictated that "Black long sleeved shirts under the official jersey are NOT acceptable." So I wouldn't let him wear his Under Armour. He was absolutely the ONLY ref there without it. Nobody on the sidelines seemed to notice him, which I found astonishing since he looked like a skinny vanilla popsicle. We stuck around for a few minutes to cheer him on in his first assignment, but after making him miss a couple of calls, we discovered that it wasn't so helpful to stand there yelling, "Blow your whistle louder!" and "Nice call, Ref!" and "Way to chase that play down!" So we took off.

Two and a half hours later, I went to pick him up. It would have been only two hours later, except that he was a bit confused about the length of the halves and gave his teams extra long games. I blew the equivalent of his first day's earnings on a hot chocolate (venti) and ran to the field for the last few minutes of the game. His nose was red and weeping slightly, and his body looked a little cramped. Luckily his second game was girls U9, which was less challenging ("Mom, I love ref'ing girls. Every time something comes up, they ALL LOOK AT ME to see what they're supposed to do!") After he blew the final whistle, I ran onto the field, hot chocolate extended. He wouldn't take it. After a few seconds of me trying to thrust it into his hand and him not taking it, he said, "Sorry Mom. I can't move my hand."

Still, I think he's going to enjoy it. And I think he's going to wear his Under Armour next week.

Mumford shorts (but not as short as the ref shorts :D):

Pulled from Tim's pocket just prior to leaving for sacrament meeting last week: a nose flute.

NCAA highlights: watching basketball with Zach. We're both pro-PAC-10. Tom thinks rooting for Stanford and UCLA is disloyal. Zach and I think it's fun. What's not to like about Kevin Love and the Lopez twins, as long as you're not trying to beat them?

NCAA lowlights: the commercials. I'm constantly craving pizza and I've realized that *I* am Sven.

Nigel walked up to me tonight and said, "Want to take the woman test? Hold out your arm." I obediently held out my arm. He hit it hard with a thin strip of cardboard. "Ow!" I yelled. He looked at me with satisfaction and pronounced conclusively, "Woman!"