New Job

First day on a new job for Rosie yesterday. She's a ref for the local recreational soccer league. She reffed three games for U5 and U7 teams, so some of the kids were as young as four years old.

Adorable.

Rosie has a whistle and a t-shirt and a giant wrist watch/timer. She feels very special, in a helmet-wearing kind of way.




She loved the little tikes, but already got her first taste of the wrath of the Soccer Mom. There were a couple of shots on goal that the defenders were able to kick out before they crossed that invisible line that represents a score. So Rosie told them to play on, but apparently the parents were none too pleased that little Brandon's and Austin's goals weren't counted.

They'll live.

It was such a drastic change to watch some of the games. Were my kids ever that little? In these games, the coaches were right on the field with the kids. There were no goalies, no off-sides, no throw-ins.

The "language" I hear from my daughter's U17 teammates sounds something like this:

Let it.
Here, here!
Man.
Time, time!
Yeah, yeah!
Cross!
Keeper!

The "language" on these teams comes all from the coaches, and it goes:

Stand up, honey.
Run!
Go the other way!
Where's the ball?
Kick the ball.
No, the other goal.

You know when you're training a puppy, and you want it to learn to come, so you kind of run away from it just to get it to run in your direction? I saw a coach use that method with a five year old yesterday.





Rock on, Rosie!





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Thanks!

Friend of Mine....

I have this friend who's going through a bit of a rough patch lately.

Poor thing.

She's dealing with two family members who are experiencing their own personal One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest moments.

On Saturday she was out weeding with her kids when she stepped on a nail that popped right through her shoe and into the arch of her foot.

And as it turned out, some of those weeds? Poison Ivy.  Yeah, she's got that.

Later that night, she was returning home from taking her kids somewhere when she got the call that her dog had been hit by a car. This particular dog NEVER leaves the yard, but for some reason he left it on a dark and rainy night and ran right out in front of a car. So my friend took him to the emergency vet clinic and didn't get home till three in the morning. It's touch and go for the poor old dog, who seems to have damaged his spinal cord. Time will tell. She's praying to St. Francis and all his heavenly buddies that he'll be able to walk again.


But the Calendar Gods must be pleased, still, so the next morning she was up at the break of dawn to take a couple kids to their job, and then later another kid to a soccer game. It was while she was at the game she felt it coming on. That achiness. When she got home she was able to confirm with a swipe across the temple: fever.

Went to the doctor on Tuesday, and he did a culture, so it's not confirmed yet, but she has all the earmarks of having the flu. 102.6 degree fever, cough, fatigue, feeling like she'd been run over by a truck. Doc says she's an "index case", meaning the first in the area. Asked her all kinds of questions about people she might have been in contact with that had travelled. Said the officials would have to be notified.

Made her feel very special.

Like Gwyneth Paltrow from Contagion.



Image source

Except she died, so let's think of someone else.

But special or not, she still had to contend with kids who needed rides, kids who needed to eat, a dog that needed meds three times a day and to be walked in a towel-turned sling, and a house that was falling into disarray faster than you could say influenza.

Not that she was doing much of anything to hold the disarray at bay. She would bleakly mumble, "Do your chores" from beneath the pile of blankets under the sofa, without any kind of follow-up or threat of consequences. She'd sweet talk the oldest into sling-walking the handicapped dog into the yard and giving him his meds. She would point a finger in the general direction of staples like cereal and eggs when asked "What's for dinner?".

Hopefully she'll be OK, this friend of mine.

Say a prayer for her, would you?


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Thanks!

I-Need-Therapy-Thursday: Redeemed

Ick. 
At a time when my blog has more followers and more traffic than ever, my Top Mommy Blog votes are dropping. I'm off the first page!  Just a week or so ago I was up to #14! 
If everyone who visits could take one second to click this brown button, it would shoot me straight back up again.
Pretty please? With sugar on top?
Thanks!!




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Couple years ago, a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad thing happened.

What was it, you ask?

My daughter Rosie, whose soccer skill rivals that of Hope Solo
(OK, so I'm a little biased, sue me)
got kicked off her soccer team.

I know, I know, this kind of thing happens all the time, right?

Not in a situation like this.

After a try-out in which only the girls on the team came (no new blood), the director of the soccer club cut my daughter from the team.

Cut my daughter after she had played goalie for them for four years.
After she had been named MVP after a tournament.
After she had been requested, by name, to play for other teams at their tournaments.
After she gave them a season with no goals scored against.

So why did they cut her?
They claimed it was strictly based on try-out stats.
But if that's the case, it's a pretty interesting coincidence that the only girls cut from the team (five in all), were daughters of parents who had raised some valid concerns about the new coach.

After the cut, there were phone calls and emails and attendance at board meetings, but all to no avail. The decision was final.

But the girls moved on.
One of them, quite literally, moved on to another state.
Two of these very talented young ladies joined another of the local travel soccer teams, while the other two (my daughter included), joined one of the others.

The last game of the season was played last night. Rosie's team was victorious, shutting out the opposing team 5 - 0, moving them into second place in the division. Those two girls that joined the other team? Their team placed first. So I find it interesting that these four stunning athletes, who were cut to spite the parents, went on to play with the number one and number two soccer teams in the division.

The team they were all cut from?

They finished middle of the pack.

Instant karma, mmmmmm, it's crunchy.

Pardon my French, but White Clay can suck it.

I guess the best revenge is just to do well.

Rock on, Rosie.  You're my hero....

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In case you didn't know it, I'm like the queen of blog-hoppin' lately. It's kind of like square dancing but without the dated outfits, smelly gym, and elderly caller.

Here's the schedule I keep:
Monday:
Homestead Revival's Barn Hop
Natural Living Mamma's Natural Living Mondays
The Chicken Chick's Clever Chicks
A Cat-Like Curiosity's Monday Mantras
Ponder Wonder's Soul Food Monday
@ Home Take 2's Mom's Monday Mingle
DIY Dreamer's Pinterest Repin Party
DIY Home Sweet Home's More the Merrier Monday
Tuesday:
Heavenly Homemaker's Gratituesday
Crafty Garden Mama's Tuesday Greens
The Wrinkled Mommy's Tuesday Archive Link-Up
Wednesday:
My Life and Kids Finding the Funny
Tilly's Nest's Down Home
Crafty Spices Wordless Wednesday
Thursday:
A Rural Journal's Rural Thursday Blog Hop
Two In Diapers' Mommy Brain Mixer
Friday:
Deborah Jean's Dandelion House's Farmgirl Friday
Fresh Eggs Daily's FarmGirl Friday
Little Becky Homecky's Fantabulous Friday
@Home Take 2's Weekend Blog Walk
Oh So Amelia's Friday Chaos
Saturday:
Camera Critter's Life With Dogs Pet Blogger Hop
Tutus and Tea Parties' Pinteresting Party
Sunday:
Dawn's Disaster's Super Sunday Link


Come join the fun!

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Rudeness disclaimer:

I love all your comments,
I read every one!
But I can't hit 'reply',
I've no time for fun.
Please don't judge me,
Please don't hate.
If you have a question that just can't wait,
Send me an email at farmbeachgal@yahoo.com,
And I'll answer right back because I'm, you know, the Mom.