Tag archive for "Sporty Kids"

Thought

New On the Parenting Post: What Tough Girls Are Made Of

No Comments 11 October 2009

The girl had Mari by a few inches and at least 20 lbs, and she wasn’t afraid to bulldoze my baby whenever the soccer ball came near. I saw her checking my child — slamming her girth against Mari’s sides, elbowing her, tripping her with her humongous cleats. Mari, in her first season of soccer, was frustrated by it — couldn’t figure out how to get past this wall of a girl without being hit/pushed/sliced/knocked down. By game’s end, my Mari was near tears. And when the two teams lined up to shake hands and congratulate each other for a game well played, the little/big girl punched my child in the back. Just flat out punched her in the back and walked away!

Now, you should know I’m not afraid of any 9-year-olds. And, with Mari crying in my arms, I made a point of telling the girl and her coach that there wouldn’t be too much more punching going on on that soccer field. I was mad as heck.

And my husband was mad at me.

To read more about Nick’s TOUGH LOVE on the soccer field, check out my latest blog on THE PARENTING POST.

post signature

On The MBB Stoop

THE END ZONE: A SON LEARNS TO DEAL WITH HARD KNOCKS ON THE GRIDIRON

4 Comments 07 October 2009

By VIVIAN EISON

I snapped hundreds of photos of my youngest son, but my favorite is a black and white of him at age two. He’s wearing the cheesiest smile and holding on for dear life to his Batman and Robocop toys. His saucer-shaped eyes are playful and slightly mischievous. He’d just bounced back from his bout with chicken pox. Life was sweet, simple and uncomplicated. I’m a softie for nostalgia.

My son is 20 years old now—6’2” and tipping the scales at a rock solid 195 pounds. Troy is a senior at the University of Akron and was a wide receiver on the football team until two weeks ago. The call came while I was standing in line at the bank. “Mom, I just quit the team. I thanked my coach for the opportunity. It’s over.”

Stunned, I grabbed my deposit slip and ran into the parking lot. “What happened?” My heart was racing. “Are you okay?”

He calmly explained that while he loved the game, he couldn’t stand the coach favoritism and empty promises. He added, quietly: “I lost my ambition.”

I hurt for my son! He’d worked his butt off to be a legitimate athlete for the past 10 years; he was 5’9” and 150 lbs as a high school senior—not a physical powerhouse, but he had heart and guts and a dream to play in the NFL. I will NEVER forget his first touchdown. Of course, I acted up and screamed his name like any red-blooded mom would do. Troy’s catch made the front page of the local newspaper. I ran my mouth! You would have thought he won the Heisman.

Troy joined his college football team as a freshman walk on after getting only limited playing time in high school and getting passed over when the college scouts handed out football scholarships. He spent his summers on campus, religiously lifting weights and running routes with teammates, even though it wasn’t mandatory.

Still, this year he was frustrated that he wasn’t “getting in” during preseason practices with his team after sitting out his junior year to satisfy NCAA rules for players who transfer to new schools—a red flag of how the regular season with his newer, bigger school would go down.

I didn’t want to make matters worse by talking him to death and letting on that this situation had my stomach in knots. When your child is an adult, you teeter a tight rope between being a loving, concerned parent and a total nag. Angst and panic often hitch a ride on this neurotic super highway. You have to sharpen your listening skills and your intuition, and know when to back off or you’ll be spoon-fed incomplete information or, worse, be completely left out of the loop. But you never, ever stop worrying—even if you keep it to yourself.

You do, however, get to witness firsthand how well a job you’ve done as a parent. Though my heart ached for my son, I was proud to see that his decision was mature, not knee jerk or impulsive. It wasn’t the product of rage, big ego, whining, jealousy or arrogance. He was relentless, self-motivated, disciplined, coachable and driven, and pushed himself mentally and physically to meet the demands of college football while sitting pretty on the Dean’s list.

What my son did wasn’t about quitting. It was about knowing when to say goodbye—being content with his decision and walking away with integrity when he gave his all. Troy dared to dream. His dad and I encouraged his passion and didn’t kill his spirit. The Jim Kelly, Peyton Manning and Chris Carter camps were worth it. The lingering smell of Icy-Hot on his banged up legs and requests for back rubs and jugs of Gatorade warmed my heart. The life lessons learned on the football field about working hard and dealing with adversities will go a long way with him as he enters the working world and has his own family one day!!

Next year I’ll get to act up and scream his name again with pride when he WALKS ON the stage to get his Bachelor’s degree in Mass Communications. My kind of cheering—with a box of Kleenex and all.

About our MyBrownBaby contributor:
Vivian Eison is a divorced mom of two grown sons. In addition to being a registered nurse, she is a contributing writer for BlackPower.com, and is writing a book about surviving divorce. She lives in Connecticut.

post signature

Thought

Wordful Wednesday: Our Friday Night Lights

15 Comments 01 September 2009

Around these parts, football and Fridays go together like hot BBQ and cold beer at a tailgate party. And after three years of watching my stepson, Mazi, play for his high school team (and a pretty intense Football 101 For Moms session with his coach), I’m finally starting to actually understand the game—and like it. Which is big. Because I much prefer the TV show Friday Night Lights to actually sitting under real ones. It’s amazing what you’ll start liking when your kid is involved! (The funnel cake at the concession stand certainly helps!) Here, my favorite shots from Mazi’s season opener. Go South!

post signature

MBB So Hearts This

A MyBrownBaby Weekend: Doin’ It In The Park

6 Comments 30 July 2009

My kids have only one more week before they head back to class, which means that somewhere between me shopping for school clothes and blowing a mint on Crayolas, #2 pencils, and notebooks, we have to get in our last licks on summer. Here, a few snapshots of the things we’ll be doing this weekend. (I suspect water guns, lady bugs, soccer balls, and barbeque will be involved.)

(And no, can’t nobody tell Teddy, our Goldendoodle, that he’s not one of the kids. Seriously. The girls have taken to calling him their “little brother.” Right.)

Have a happy weekend!

post signature

MBB So Hearts This

MyBrownBaby Goes Camping—and Survives Two Days (and Nights!) In The Woods

27 Comments 25 June 2009

Yup—I did it. Two days and two nights, deep in the woods of North Georgia. And despite my initial protestations (and the tolerance of threats from my resident Go Green enthusiast/sister-in-law Angelou and much pleading from Mari and Lila), I have to say it wasn’t half bad. And maybe—just maybe—I’m willing to admit that I had some fun. Here, our journey in pictures and in words:

We stayed in Ft. Yargo, a state-run park in Winder, GA. It’s only about 40 minutes from our home, but the massive lake, pristinely-maintained forest, and primitive living made it feel like we were 400 light years away from Atlanta. And yes, that’s Angelou, acting like she’s about to check into The Ritz.

Signs welcomed our families—the Chileses, the Ezeiloes, and the Gees—to our campsite, located on small peninsula off a small corner of the lake. We dropped our stuff and got busy getting settled—setting up tents, unpacking sleeping bags and lights (all graciously provided by REI, the campground superstore). You know I was scoping out what mattered most: the bathroom (a two-minute walk from our tent site, it had running water and toilets, but lots of bugs, which meant I was going to do the drop and run; showers up in there were not optional), the cooking facilities (a rock pit with a sturdy grill) and an exit strategy (you know, in case a chick had to make a quick getaway). All in all, it was all quite nice… for the outdoors.

The kids got a kick out of the idea of sleeping on the ground, surrounded by the lake. They skipped rocks over the water, tossed around the football, danced to the Black Eyed Peas, Earth Wind & Fire, and Nice & Smooth, tooled around on their scooters, and, on many occasions, were caught looking reflectively out over all that God made. (A big highlight for Mari was being allowed to brush her teeth in the woods and spit on the ground. It’s the little things, y’all. The little things.)

During the day, we mostly chilled—went for a leisurely hike through the woods, took a dip in the man-made beach, talked, and read (Mazi got wrapped up in the latest Dan Brown novel, “Angels and Demons,” while Nick and I shared Nathan McCall’s incredible novel, “Them.” We got our New York Times fix on our Blackberries (reception was crystal clear).

When the dark settled in, we whipped up dinner (grilled veggies, salmon, chicken, and potatoes the first night; hamburgers, hot dogs, chicken sausage, and grilled corn the second) on the campfires, and then watched the kids gorge on S’mores while we played “When I Go to the Moon.” We followed that up with a raucous round of campfire singing, black people style, which means we were crooning Teena Marie, Chaka Khan, Rick James, Run DMC, and Sugar Hill Gang songs at the top of our lungs (the volume of said sing-alongs was wholly controlled by various adult elixirs).

The trickiest part? Sleeping on the ground, in the pitch black, in the middle of the Georgia woods. This truly is something that freaked me out, not a little, but a lot. I’m no fan of bugs or critters (though REI’s Jungle Juice, a bug repellant, is the truth, the light, and the way, for real!), but it wasn’t the creepy crawlies that bothered me. It was the noises. And the darkness. And the fear of what was lurking—the unknown. The first night wasn’t so bad, but the second night, Lila woke me out of a dead sleep, shivering, talking about how she heard noises and footsteps. I heard them, too, and felt powerless to do anything about it but cuddle Lila and try to be brave while she settled back to sleep. All the while, all I could think was, “Damn, James has the knife in is tent—how am I going to stab a mofo if I don’t have the regulator?!” I spent the rest of the night staring at the stars and waiting for Jason/Freddie Krueger/The Blair Witch/a group of guys in white robes to slice through the tent. Needless to say, sunlight couldn’t come fast enough for me.

When morning finally came, we made quick work of breaking down the tents, gathering up our things, and getting in our last looks at nature. I have to admit that it was quite a lovely experience, sleeping out in the open and waking up to such beauty. I’m not planning on becoming a camping enthusiast, that much I know (though REI has some pretty spectacular gear that did wonders for keeping us comfortable—from the tents to the lanterns to the coffee percolator to the backpacks, kids’ toys, and the Jungle Juice). But I wouldn’t be against going again… one of these days. (The picture below is of me and Mazi—proof that I was, indeed, there!)

A special thanks to REI for making this, my first camping trip, a comfortable, special experience; the tents were incredible, the lanterns lit the way, the percolator made great java, the sleeping bags were quite cozy, the portable stove made perfect Jiffy Pop Popcorn, and not one of us got bit by a bug thanks to your fantastic Jungle Juice (I’m SO buying stock in the JJ!)

post signature

My Girls

So What I’m Saying Is That My Kid Might Have A Point

15 Comments 29 April 2009

My 9-year-old walks around the house with her little flat chest poked out, making clear in word and deed that she thinks she’s smarter, stronger, and faster than me. After last night’s The Parents vs. The Kids’ Soccer Team knock-down, drag-out soccer brawl (”game” is much too tame a word), I think she might be right.

At least about the stronger and faster part.

The score was 7 to 1, the ‘rents.

In theory, we won.

My shoulder, back, right shin, and left elbow remind me of a much different reality.

Um, yeah.

post signature

Contributors

MBB Tweets

© 2009 MBB Demo Blog. Wordpress.