Tampa Yankees August, 2009

Tampa is home to a Class A minor league baseball team, the Tampa Yankees. John sometimes takes the girls to Tampa Yankees games, and until this summer I had not intruded on this sweet daddy-daughter ritual. One night, though, I was sufficiently well-rested and curious and when I asked John he said, “Of course you can come” because, really, what else could he say? So I went. And I learned a lot about their daddy-daughter time but not so much about baseball. John let me know ahead of time that the girls don’t really follow the game, though they never want to leave early. “They eat a lot of snacks,” he said.

John tells me there is often a “theme” to draw people in. This was Jimmy Buffet night. They had a guy singing Jimmy Buffet songs with a little PA system and if you were standing within 14 feet of the snow cone concession, upstairs on the east side of the stadium, you’d hear he was pretty good. Also in attendance were “Parrotheads.” These are, apparently, Jimmy Buffet fans that show their appreciation by wearing cut-off shorts, flip flops and feathery hats. There’s also quite a bit of beer drinking and maybe other mood-altering substances, but I’m just assuming (you know I’m right). I got the impression, watching the Parrotheads, that maybe the clothes and beer and party attitude came first and the Jimmy Buffet appreciating just fit nicely and gave the whole dressing poorly and altering moods thing a more organized feel. Anyway, there were maybe 11 Parrotheads at the game and they sat together and, not surprisingly, seemed to be having a very good time.

As we walked in we passed, among other things, a table devoted to educating the public (the public attending a minor league baseball game on a Tuesday night, anyway) about the dangers manatees are facing and encouraging us to help save the manatees by giving them money to pay for, I assume, more educational materials they can hand out at other poorly attended sporting event-type venues. The thing they did in an attempt to draw prospective donors to the table was hand out free manatee coloring books. Well, we happen to already have some free manatee coloring books we don’t use, which we got when we went swimming with the manatees (see previous blog entry). Also, we didn’t want to give them our money. But we couldn’t just walk by these manatee-loving volunteers, averting our eyes and ignoring their plaintive voices, “Little girls! Do you want a manatee coloring book? It’s free.” (John says he could.) So, instead I let them know that we really love manatees, too, and support their cause and already have the coloring book. But I didn’t say it just like that. What I actually said was, “Oh, we went swimming with the manatees.” Which doesn’t really convey the message I was intending, does it? As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized the message I had actually communicated was more along the lines of, “the manatees have already fulfilled their usefulness in our lives and we want nothing more to do with them, or you, for that matter.” I felt bad, but not enough to take a coloring book or give them money.

The stadium was only about ten percent full, so we were able to sit wherever we wanted. I really wanted to sit behind the protective net that hangs behind home plate. While I am typically not a worrier, I was concerned about balls coming into the stands. I’ve seen a gruesome email forward of a guy getting hit by a baseball at a game and the image stuck with me. John and the girls wanted to sit NOT behind the protective net and I was really just a guest at their game, so I determined that I would simply never take my eye off the ball, catch it if it came our way and thereby keep my family safe and maybe get a game ball in the process. Simple enough.

As soon as we found our seats and settled in, we were up again for snacks. The girls chose shelled peanuts. Peanuts in shells. Is anyone else surprised by this? In a million years I would not have guessed that the girls and John would eat shelled peanuts at the game. I don’t know if I’ve ever used the phrase “shelled peanuts” in the presence of my children, or even John. I have nothing against shelled peanuts, of course. I just didn’t know that anyone else in my family eats them. I was learning a lot.

We found our seats again and the National Anthem was sung, which always makes me tear up, which always makes Brooks look at me like I’m crazy. And then – the game started.

Of course, I kept my eye on the ball every second. At least until the peanut shell throwing started. We removed the shell, threw the peanut into our mouths and then tossed the shell at each other. The best throws were those where the shell ended up stuck in the other person’s hair, but that person didn’t know. By “we” here, I mean “the girls and I.” John was watching the game and just dropping his shells on the ground like you’re supposed to do. If I had been watching the ball I would have missed it when Brooks dropped her peanut on the ground and threw the shell in her mouth, so that bit was worth the risk. Shell throwing occupied the top or maybe the bottom of the inning, so I missed quite a lot, I think. But, then, back to keeping my eye on the ball.

As we watched, John would sometimes lean over and ask the girls a baseball related question, like, “Where’s the shortstop?” and Maddie would point at someone and John would show her where the shortstop actually was. “The one you pointed to is the second baseman,” he explained. I wondered (out loud) why he stood so far away from second base and John went on about something or other and then Brooks interrupted with “Ooh! Three peanuts!” and Madison and I joined her in wondering over her single shell with three entire peanuts inside.

I know the basics of baseball. I know that a foul ball is a strike unless it would be a third strike (an out) and in that case it’s just a do-over. An RBI is a “Run Batted In.” If the pitcher throws four bad pitches (“balls”) and the batter doesn’t swing, the batter gets to walk to first base. In the spirit of the game, and as long as I was going to have to watch the ball every second (mostly), then I might as well pay attention, right? So, I did. For a minute. But then Brooks said, “Oh! This is an adorable peanut! Just one nut. Aaww.” I am telling you, that is a verbatim quote. How could I be expected to watch the game with my kids saying incredibly cute things and that awesome bag of peanuts distracting me every few moments? I decided to just be sure to pay attention when there was a left-handed batter. John told me that the right-handed batters would foul the ball the other way and I chose to believe him because by that time (dusk) I was finding the ball watching a little tedious. At one point, frustrated, I told John, “I can NOT see the ball.” He suggested that I take off my sunglasses. That helped.

When the peanuts ran out we bought some more snacks. On the way I noticed that the birds were coming boldly down into the stadium eaves and that they were, in fact, bats. Bats. When we returned to our seats we watched the outfield lights carefully and discovered that there were many, many bats. How cool is that? We usually pay admission to the zoo to see live bats – and here they were, at the baseball game! Just flying around right in front of us flaunting their batness and no one except us even seemed to notice the live entertainment going on directly over the heads of the ball players. We could see them easily because they were eating the bugs that were swarming to the lights. Maddie explained that the bugs stay by the lights so they can see if there is any danger. I didn’t correct her. While we were watching the bats flying near the scoreboard the big screen flashed an ad for Sierra Mist. Brooks thought that was exciting. She said, “I love Sierra Mist!”

Once the sun went down a gentle breeze began to move, which was lovely. After the third time I mentioned the lovely breeze, Brooks said, “Here’s a breeze,” sat on my leg and farted. Farting on others is a direct result of daddy-daughter time, by the way. As a general rule I try not to force my mothering on John’s time with the girls. So, when Brooks farted on me I laughed and rolled my eyes at John and tried to appreciate that her comment was very clever and her comedic timing was right on. I did step in, though, when John picked up the hot dog that Madison had dropped on the floor and handed it back to her. Then I tried not to think of what she must have eaten at all the ball games I didn’t attend. I said a quick prayer, too.

At the seventh inning stretch I asked what a seventh inning stretch was and before John could reply I received this answer from Madison: “That’s when they stop and they play some games and they stretch and they can go up to the bathroom and it’s a stretch.” She’s right. Also, it’s when they sing “Take Me Out To The Ball Game.”

After we bought some more snacks, we returned to our seats and the girls and I just ignored the game altogether. I took a picture of the girls with John and then another die-hard baseball fan’s wife offered to take a picture of all of us. Then the girls fought over the camera in that irritating whining bickering way that doesn’t stop until I step in and say something and then they band together against me. I made them take turns.

While Brooks had the camera Madison told me about that one song in that one episode of SpongeBob SquarePants that always makes her cry.

While Madison had the camera Brooks explained why the name “Flying Tigers” isn’t a good name for a baseball team. (Tigers can’t fly.)

We stayed until the end, and even a little more to watch the guy who drives the thing that smooths out the orange sand on the baselines (I even know what a baseline is). Madison wondered why they smooth out the sand if they’re just going to walk on it again, which pretty much sums up her argument against doing her chores, too.

While we walked back to the car, John and I held hands and the girls bounced around us, talking excitedly about how late it was and how they were not even the least little bit sleepy. John and I smiled at each other, knowing their sugar high would end with a crash, which would mark the start of daddy-mommy time.

I’m really, really glad I went to the game.

Kindergarten Quote: DON'T sound it out.

School starts tomorrow.

So if you were wondering why I have not blogged (or called or emailed) recently, now you know: School starts tomorrow.

I think it's a good time, on this, the day before school starts, to share another Kindergarten quote. Unfortunately this quote is a written one and the student in the story does not say a word. In fact, she only writes three letters. But they're funny ones.

Lizzie is (or was, when she was in Kindergarten) and impulsive thinker. That is, she does her best when she answers quickly, without taking time to think. When she stops to think, the correct answer - which she had as soon as she heard the question - slips away.

I asked the children, during a spelling test, to write the word "out." I sounded it clearly. I used finger cues to show them that the word has three letters. I sounded it clearly again. Lizzie immediately took pencil to paper and... stopped to think. I sounded it again, gave finger cues again. Lizzie went ahead and wrote the letter she was sure of: t. Then she stopped to think some more.

I encouraged the students to test their spelling by sounding out the word they had spelled. Essentially, to read their word. If it sounds like "out," it's "out."

Lizzie was well and truly stuck. She looked up at me as I walked over to her desk, her eyes clearly communicating, "Mrs. Lynch, can't you just tell me how to spell it?" I knelt down and said, "Lizzie, you just need a two-letter phonogram in front of the t. I'm going to say the word again and I want you to - as quickly as you can - write the two-letter phonogram in front of the t. Are you ready?"

She nodded.

I enunciated clearly, "out."

Quickly, she added the two-letter phonogram.

The two-letter phonogram she added? sh

I quickly covered her word "sht" with my hand and said, "Don't sound it out."

"With a great deal of funkiness"

When I was a little girl, my sister and friends and I loved to put on shows. We once spent an entire summer creating, planning and rehearsing a show and actually performed it at a party at my mom's house. We called our group "The Funky Junkies." We thought "junkies" were people who lived in junky places and our parents let us keep the name, in lieu of telling us what a junkie actually was.

As for "funky," hey, it was the 70's. The 70's were a funky time. One of our numbers was "Do what you want to do" by T-Connection. That is a seriously funky song. We also did an Elvis song (Teddy), Greased Lightning from Grease and a whole bunch of Free to Be You and Me. I actually still have a program. Here is my "autograph":

Was I outrageously funky, or what?!?!?

When I had infant daughters and thought ahead to what adventures they would enjoy as they grew up, "putting on shows" was one of the things I was most excited about. I knew that my girls would be creative and talented and entertaining, just like I thought I was.

I was wrong.

That may seem harsh, but today I reviewed a video of their show "Thumbelina." "Thumbelina" has a cast of four: Brooks, Madison, Abigail and Ember. Abigail and Ember (and their mom, Michelle) are our best friends. Thumbelina is difficult to watch. For one thing, there are, as far as I can tell, two directors of this show - Brooks and Abigail. Unfortunately, the directors are also principal cast members, so they do their directing during the show, from center stage. Also, there was no rehearsal, nor even vague agreement as to how the show would go. Watching Thumbelina feels a little bit like torture.

I have editted the video (you're welcome) to just the "directing" scenes because I love you (six people who read this blog). You'll need sound for this, though there is some physical direction given, too. And you might hear the moms chime in (or freak out) as well.

Hey! Freak out - another funky 70's song.

CLICK HERE to watch Thumbelina Directors' Edit.

Kindergarten Quote: Popeye

"Popeye smells garlic so he can grow strong!" - Kaitlin E., Berean Academy Kindergarten Class of 07-08

Lowry Park Zoo with Tian July 24, 2009

Tian is a good friend of mine. He was a student in my Kindergarten class last year, his father is my pastor and I work with his mom. I had the privilege, recently, of spending the day with Tian and my girls at Lowry Park Zoo, while Tian's mother took care of his big sister, Emily, who had her wisdom teeth pulled.

The very moment I mentioned going to the zoo, Tian informed me he didn't want to go on "The Alligator." "The Alligator" is Gator Falls, a water flume ride at the zoo. But it's not just any water flume ride. Gator Falls may be the smallest flume ride in existence. I've seen bigger flume rides in back yards, powered by garden hoses. Of course, I reassured Tian that if he didn't want to go on "The Alligator" he didn't have to. There are many other things to do at Lowry Park Zoo.

I gave my girls a quick-yet-stern lecture about enjoying the other rides and exhibits and how we wouldn't want our friends to go on a ride without us and that we can ride Gator Falls some other day. They did make a few comments throughout the day, usually thinly veiled attempts to convince Tian that he did, in fact, want to go on Gator Falls. In general, though, they let it go and enjoyed the day.

Feeding the Sting Rays was a big hit - after I explained that the stinging part of the ray had been removed. Tian, Brooks and Madison reached in to touch their wings as the rays glided past. The rays expected to be fed, so they came to the side and splashed us, hoping for a morsel. All three kids wanted to feed the rays, so we bought a dish of fish parts. We stood next to the tank and contemplated holding the food at the bottom of the pool while the rays surged forward to take the fish from our fingers with their teeth. We contemplated that for a while, and then we just dropped the food in and let the rays came to the surface to find it, which was pretty cool and not as scary.

We saw the alligator exhibit, too. The actual reptile alligators. They were out sunning and there were eight of them. "No, nine!" "Eleven!" "And there's a big one in the back corner!" It was kind of like being on safari, trying to find them all, if not for the eight-foot wall surrounding the enclosure and the 72 kids on a field trip with a summer camp who were also finding alligators. "Twelve!"

There was a man cutting down a tree, which you usually don't think of as a zoo exhibit, and I admit wasn't an official attraction. A bunch of zoo people stood around in khaki clothes, talking to each other about better ways to cut down a tree, while one man - who was tied to the tree - used a chainsaw to cut the tree. The top section of the tree was held by a cable connected to a crane. When the tree was severed, the top portion swung free and the man ducked out of the way just in time - while holding a running chainsaw. The kids may only be 7, 8 and 9 years old, but they know danger when they see it. It was awesome.

We went to the aviary and saw bats asleep in a dark corner. As cool as I thought that was, the big hit in the aviary was the row of hanging plastic chains that allow people to come in and out, while discouraging the birds from attempting escape. Tian absolutely loved going back and forth through the chains, so we did that for a mind-numbingly long time.

In the children's zoo area Madison and Tian rode a little roller coaster together. Tian screamed at the top of his lungs EVERY SINGLE MOMENT that the ride was in motion. When they came off I asked Tian if he was afraid and he said "no." I asked why he was screaming so much and he said, "Maddie told me to." I looked at Maddie for an explanation. She just smiled. I told Tian, "You don't have to obey Madison." He just smiled.

Summer in Florida is hot, of course, so the kids used the heat as an excuse to play in the water area and within minutes they were drenched. And once Tian was wet, he didn't mind getting wetter, so he said, "Can we go on 'The Alligator?'" Oh, the joy! By the looks on my girls' faces you would have thought it was Christmas morning, or that they were allowed to get a puppy, or that I let them go to bed without brushing their teeth.

We immediately set off, negotiating for prime seating. Maddie wanted to ride all by herself, but Brooks was worried that Maddie would somehow be injured. If she absolutely had to ride with us, then Maddie only wanted the front spot. Brooks wanted to sit next to me and next to Tian. Tian decided that the seats in the back were where the riders get the wettest (he was right), so he wanted to be in the front, too. I wanted to sit at a shady bench and read.

Maddie climbed in first, hurrying to the front. Tian scrambled in, but somehow ended up facing backwards in the back of the boat. Brooks was concerned that they were in but we were not, so she tried to hold on to the boat and me, while simultaneously insisting that Tian turn around and move to the front and whining at me to please, get in, get in, get in! We finally settled into our seats as the ride approached the end of the loading area at what felt like a glacial inch-per-minute.

And then... wait for it...another 4 inches...wait for it... oh, for goodness' sake...we were off!

We have some flume ride experience. We've done Splash Mountain at Disney, which winds through an animatronic telling of the Uncle Remus stories, has a few small falls, and ends with a 50 foot drop into Brer Rabbit's briar patch. It's the girls' favorite Disney ride and takes a full 8 minutes from beginning to end, not counting, of course, the 75 minutes of waiting in line to get on the ride. The Tidal Wave at Busch Gardens seats 24 people per boat, winds through African-themed villages, complete with basket weaving huts and lush landscaping, and takes about 4 minutes.

Gator Falls is, as I've mentioned, small. You can see the entire thing from any one place on the ride. Aside from a few signs "Waterfall Ahead!" painted on artificially weathered wooden planks, there's no attempt to create a theme. I can only assume that the word "Gator" is in the name of the ride because so many University of Florida supporters enjoy the ride. There certainly aren't any actual alligators, fake, painted or otherwise, anywhere near the ride. It also takes 4 minutes, but the first two are spent on the conveyor belt in the loading area and there's another full minute on the conveyor belt that brings you to the top.

Two things, though, that do compare with the other flumes. First, the deluge of water upon hitting the bottom. We were soaked from head to toe, from t-shirt to underwear, in a split-second. So quickly, in fact, that I didn't have time to close my mouth and I swallowed a few ounces of that disgusting recycled-through-the-ride-all-day water.

Second, of course, is the drop. The last 4 seconds of the ride are fun and thrilling and stomach-tickling. The girls like to try to keep their hands up high and I just smile as I hear them scream and laugh. Tian said he liked it and even wanted to do it again, so we did.

It wasn't until we looked at the souvenir photos that I saw exactly how thrilling the ride was for Tian. The photo speaks for itself and I'll let it tell the last thousand words of this blog entry.

Enjoy.

Kindergarten Quote: Dog Backward

Morning in Kindergarten. Sunlight filters through the blinds, illuminating backpacks and lunchboxes, untied shoes, stuffed animals, toys and rows of books. The students sit at their desks, hands folded and paying attention. Or, maybe, daydreaming and playing with the colorful eraser stuck on the end of their pencil, wishing recess time would hurry up and come.

I'm at the board, teaching the week's spelling words. In Kindergarten we get the short words: top, an, six, run. It sounds easy, but each word is fraught with potential for error. "Pin" sounds a whole lot like "pen" and which side of the line do you put the round shape on (p/q)? "I" only has one letter, but if you write it in lower case (i) it's wrong, because it stands for a name!?!? And "but," well, that's just funny. I tell them that it doesn't mean "bottom," it means "however." Of course, I won't tell them how you actually spell the butt that means bottom, so they're suspicious.

It's easy, though, when we get to the word "dog." Most of them already know this one. Even as I speak the word for the first time, "dog," a little hand flies up. Oh, she's excited! Lizzie knows this one and can't wait to tell all of us. I'm thrilled with her enthusiasm as I call on her, expecting her to spell it for us. "Yes, Lizzie?"

"Mrs. Lynch," she says. "Did you know that if you put DOG backward, it spells ... LORD."

This is going to be so funny... but not yet.

Our air conditioner is broken. It stopped working at about 6:00 last night, and by 7:00 it was 80 degrees in our house. Someday I will blog about this, and it will be funny. I'll crack jokes about how John tried to "walk me through" fixing the air conditioner while I held the phone between my shoulder and ear, but the sweat kept making it slip which didn't matter because I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about anyway. I'll write something witty - and maybe poignant? - about my best friend, Michelle, and that we stayed at her house instead of sweating it out in ours. Maybe I'll relate a cute story about how excited the girls were to have a "sleepover" even though their friends were already asleep when we got there.

Not yet, though. Right now I'm hot. I'm irritated at the a/c repair company for showing up late (though they're not late yet) and at John for not knowing intuitively how to fix the a/c himself and at myself for trying to write a DAILY blog when, clearly, some days I am meant to be silent.

Someday this is going to be funny. Today is not that day.