Soccer

This fall, I officially became a soccer mom. First the minivan and now this. 

Elle wanted to play soccer in the YMCA league with her friend Grace, so we obliged and she tackled her first season of competitive sports. Ok, sports of any kind. It's hard to say whether she'll turn out to be the athletic type, but I think she had fun and she clearly enjoyed basking in the Dragons' undefeated status. Regardless of how much actual input she had in the team's success.

It sounds ludicrous to say, but I think she was at a significant disadvantage starting so late (yes, apparently 5 is late in the soccer prodigy world), as most of the other players had a year or two of experience, and at least understood the rules. Some appeared to be middle schoolers masquerading as 5-6 year olds, both in size and athletic prowess, and at the very least the rest had grasped concepts like which way to kick the ball and the difference between offense and defense. So it took most of the season for E to get it, and even at the end I'm not sure she fully understands that, when on defense, she doesn't necessarily have to stay planted in the spot Coach placed her in. Let me tell you though, she guarded that 6 x 6 inch square of grass with her life.

My job for most of the early practices and games was to make sure E was not sitting in the grass analyzing flowers or chasing butterflies on the field. I never played soccer, so my coaching advice was often met with skeptical glances or chuckles from the more experienced parents. Apparently my understanding of the term "off-sides" is a bit distorted. 

Elise loved eating snacks cheering on her big sister, and tried to rush the field whenever possible. During practice, the coach would ask the team, "Everywhere we go, we what?", and little E always responded enthusiastically, "RUN!"

Then there was the fateful day when Elle got chosen to play goalie for the final quarter of one of the last games of the season. My heart dropped into my duodenum when I saw it happening. She doesn't have a clue what to do! They're going to kill her! I envisioned an onslaught of rapid-fire shots pummeling my melodramatic sensitive firstborn, and the impassioned meltdown that would surely ensue. But, largely thanks to a 6-foot-tall 6-year-old beast of a stopper, no goals were scored on her watch. She even made one fantastic sliding save, with only the minor caveat that the ball was headed way out of bounds and she had to run about 20 feet out of the goal to "save" it behind the sidelines. Still, the crowd cheered. With some creative editing, that could make the SportsCenter highlights reel. 

So far, she says she wants to do it again next year... although when asked what her favorite thing about soccer was, the answer is unfailingly "the snacks".

E-isms

Elle: All three Golding girls are wearing zucchinis!
Me: You mean bikinis?
E: I'm going to call them zucchinis.

Good to know the rules don't apply to you, little one.

E: I want to be grown up enough to stay up late but not enough to have to do dishes and laundry.

E: Can I have a pet lion?
Me: How would you catch him?
E: I'd ask a cheetah to get him for me.

After using the bathroom at Kevin Harvick's house during a party, E comes running out to find him (in the midst of conversation with a rather large gathering of people): Mr Kevin! Mr. Kevin! Your toilet paper is Wonnnnnderful!

What, you don't have head shots of your kid in a guillotine? With gratuitous painted blood? 

In keeping with the bathroom humor, E states while on the potty, "Mommy, I think my butt is trying to tell me something, but I guess it doesn't know that I don't speak butt."

Love the new fascination with the word "Butt". Thank you, Kindergarten.

E: Daddy, can you turn down that music? It's bursting my ear wax.

Fry Art.

E: Can we ride in a tangerine?
Me: The fruit?
E: No, not the fruit tangerine, the boat tangerine. You know, the one that goes underwater.
Me: Oh, you mean submarine!
E: I'm going to call it tangerine. (See above)

Reading books before bed, and Jay comes in for prayers. E: Daddy, what did you just eat? Your breath smells pear-ish.

Out of the blue: I may not be the best listener, but I do draw the best pictures for our family.
Way to focus on your strengths, E.

Me: Since you never really used your balance bike, maybe we can get Elise to start riding it?
E: Oh no, Mommy! She will surely fall to her death.

When asked about excessive talking at school: But Mommy, I had important things to say!

And a few Elise-isms, which are gradually increasing in prevalence...
Driving by the llama farm on the way to daycare-- Me: Elise, do you think the llamas will be out today?
Lil E: Yah!
Me: Oh well, no llamas out today. Maybe they're still sleeping.
Lil E: Night-night llamas!

Lil E (puts her lunch bag over her shoulder and waves to me): Bye-bye Snap Snap!
Me: Snap snap?
Lil E: Puts down bag (with perceived exasperation) and opens and closes her hands: Snap snap! Bye-bye snap snap!
Me, assisted by the hand motions: Alligator? Bye-bye alligator? Ohhhh! See you later, alligator!
Lil E: Yah! Bye-bye snap snap!

Notes to grown-up Elle

Remember when you slept in your clothes the first several weeks of Kindergarten because that was the only way to prevent an earth-shattering wardrobe drama each morning? You may have been a little wrinkly, but we both kept our sanity those mornings.

Remember when your Dad would say "Guess what?", and you always knew the answer was that he loved you?

Remember writing a sentence for homework using your sight words? You came up with: "My mom is the best!" The exclamation point was your idea, too.

Remember when it seemed like forever before Christmas would get here?

Remember singing Winnie-the-Pooh to your sister to calm her down when she cried in the car? And making crazy faces and pretending to fall on the floor over and over again to make her laugh?

Remember despising getting your hair washed or brushed?

Remember the thousands of hours we've spent reading books on your bed before bedtime? And how you'd ask for just one more even if we'd depleted the Library of Congress?

Hopefully you remember how many times a day I told you "I Love You", and forget how many times I told you "Hurry Up".

Remember being a total smart-aleck at school? At least you didn't reserve it just for home...

Remember when we'd snuggle before bedtime and you always wanted to hear stories about the "sick kids" I helped at work?

Remember eating mussels like they were candy, but shunning spaghetti sauce like it was poison?

Remember when you briefly wanted a baby brother because that would necessitate getting all new boy toys?

Remember the first time you rode your bike across the big bridge at the park?

Remember spending hours "writing" books at the budding novelist age of 5?

Remember your first soccer game, and unabashedly telling me your favorite part was snack time?

Remember spirited games of Chutes and Ladders and Candyland? Remember how much you hated to lose? Remember refusing to play Old Maid because you were terrified you were going to draw the Old Maid?

Remember all the dinners we ate around the kitchen table? And all the mealtime and bedtime prayers we made a point to say as a family?

Remember all your butterfly, beetle, caterpillar, and worm pets?

Do you remember the little things about being Five?
I do. And I hope I always will.

Sisters in Pictures

There's nothing like the bond between sisters. 

E1, almost 2

E2, almost 2

Serious conversation through the fence at daycare

This picture sums up their respective personalities

Communal jubilation

Communal exhaustion

I do, occasionally, under duress, brush Elle's hair. Not this July 4th morning apparently.

What could be better than a sister? How about 2 of them? Consider it done. Baby Girl #3 to arrive February 4th, 2014... sure to be welcomed into this world by her biggest and middlest sisters. I have since added "Professional Girl-Maker" to my CV. I think it is a marketable skill :)

Golding, Party of Five. Our little family complete.

Elise, 20 months

It's been a while since I wrote an Elise update post... where do I even begin? My sweet, funny, loving, easygoing*, mild-mannered*, even-tempered* tow-headed, blue-eyed baby girl. The past few months have heralded an expanded vocabulary, but you still are not much of a talker. You understand EVERYTHING, and give me that sly grin that shows me you know exactly what we're talking about whether you chose to acknowledge it or not. Some of my favorite words currently are:
Two-tol (turtle)
Peez? (Please?)
Upeez (Up, please)
Kacka (Cracker)
Nigh-nigh (you'll cover anything up and tell it night-night, including your knee with a washcloth in the bathtub... "Nigh-nigh Nee")
Boo-boo (accompanied by a finger pointing to the injury and a pitiful lip-protruding pout)
Eh-Beh (Elle-Belle): In the mornings when you wake up you'll call for Mommy several times, then switch to calling for "Eh-Beh" who usually can be counted on to rescue you from Crib Prison
Eat. I have a love/hate relationship with this one. While it's adorable to hear you proclaim "Eat! Eat!", we have started to spell any words in the food, eating, breakfast/lunch/dinner/snack family as any of these will send you into a impassioned run into the kitchen to the counter or fridge demanding the advertised product. We don't dare bring up the topic of food unless we are prepared to serve you some immediately. So, yes, you still love food. You continue to be an adventurous and exceptional eater. For now, daycare is still ok with me packing your food so I'll continue to do that as long as you don't seem to feel "different" than the other kids. One of the other kids in your class brings lunch too, so for now I'm staying the course. 

Vacation Mac-n-cheese treat

You have the most adorable "run", which is very much like a geriatric mall-walker's fast paced gait, slightly off-kilter, and always with your left arm paddling back and forth as if pulling you along. Cracks us up every time.

We've had several months of glorious sleep habits. I give you a bath, put on pjs, read to you, sing a song, lay you down with a kiss and you smile back at me and roll over to sleep. Effortless. Same thing for naps. No hours of crying in protest. Perhaps I should have written this post last week, because lately you've been a putting up a little more fight at bedtime and naptime. I think this stems from the wicked case of separation anxiety you've developed recently. I thought perhaps we'd escaped with only a mild case of this earlier, but I guess you were just holding out. For the last couple of weeks, I can't turn my back to you, nevertheless walk out of the room or leave you without crazy screaming, crying, and gnashing of teeth. 

*The recent onset of separation anxiety has slightly mitigated your easygoing, mild-mannered, and even-tempered qualities. You also seem to be more easily frustrated at your inability to communicate exactly what you want, and at my refusal at times to agree to what you want. Maybe terrible two's are approaching, but I'm crossing my fingers this is just a minor bump in the road and you'll continue to be a laidback toddler. 

I can't adequately describe your wit, but anyone who spends time with you picks up on it immediately. When putting you to bed one night, I turned around to walk out of the room and heard you grunting for my attention. I looked back to see your little foot stuck through the bars in your crib. I rushed back to your side, removed the extremity, and gave you a kiss. Reattempted the exit. Halfway to the door I hear you whining again. Look back, and your foot is yet again protruding through the bars and you are smiling slyly. I laughed, and fixed the problem one more time. This happened several times, with both of us cracking up every time. This routine recurred for several nights, and even weeks later you occasionally try to pull the same trick. 

One evening after bath, I had you on the changing table putting on your diaper. You pointed down at the diaper and said "Gaaaa", then proceeded to produce gas and cackle. I credit your Dad for this skill.

You like to be outdoors, and much to your father's delight you seem to have an affection for the garage and car-related things. You will ask for the van door to be opened so you can climb into the driver's seat and play indefinitely. Maybe you will be your dad's car lover. 

You love shoes. Particularly other people's shoes. At Kiawah, instead of playing in the pool, you chose to meander from lounge chair to lounge chair pilfering other guests' flip flops. Explaining to you that trying on and walking in other people's footwear was not socially acceptable behavior was not met with the rational acceptance one might hope. 

You love books. Sometimes you ask for a book at bedtime and are happy to "read" it until you fall asleep. I found you one morning reading to your baby in bed. Heart. Melted. Uterus. Swelled. 

One night after dinner you were riding your bike and suddenly demanded to go back inside. I obliged at your sense of urgency, only to see you re-emerge wearing these oven mitts from your play kitchen. For some reason it was necessary to wear them for the ride. Didn't know those plastic handlebars could get that hot...

You love hats, helmets, and head adornments of any kind.

You are adored by family, friends, daycare teachers, and complete strangers. Something about you just draws people in, and I love that about you.

Your smile is infectious. 

I am in complete denial that you are nearing your 2nd birthday. What a joy you are to our family, and to everyone who knows you. I love you with all my heart, little E.