Halloween - a pictorial...

It's been a while, but we've been busy.

Enjoy our Halloween and Pumpkin Farm Pics.

Mia on the hay ride

Bella and Olivia, also on the hayride

Corn maze - the key is to put a lookout on your shoulders.
Or else you may end up calling 911.

Love this picture



Giving the costume a try when we brought it home.



Practicing their synchronized swimming



Trick or Treating



Seven year old undead.  Love that she has lipstick on her teeth.



Seven year old attitude.



Sweet flapper blondie



Love the gym shoes with white tights.  I mean, who dresses this kid?



Soccer Mom-itis...

Soccer Mom-itis is a disease that I have.

First and foremost, I do not like soccer moms.  I am not friends with the other moms.  I do not fraternize with them, unless they talk to me first.  I'm not rude.  I see them now and again, at games at practice, but I really just keep to myself.  I mean, really, who needs friends?

However, I go to the games and I go to practices.  I watch my kid playing and do everything I can to encourage her and try to make her a more skilled player.

I do not lie to myself.  My daughter is not the next Pele.  Far from it.  But as long as she tries, and has fun, I'm going to support her.

Here's my symptoms of this disease.  I am the mom who is yelling from the sidelines.  I want the team to win.  I will tell Olivia what to do.  I want them to be more aggressive.  I cheer when they do well.  I clap for them.  I tell my kid to knock down the other players.  What?  She's bigger than them and slower.  She should use what she's got to make an advantage for herself.

But, that is all.  I will not dress up in their team colors.  I will not make signs for them.  I will not try to craft out some cute hair bands for the girls.  They are lucky to get snacks from me on my snack week.  I go to cheer on my kid, and that is all.  And I love to do it.  So, don't stand near me, or you will get an earful.  I don't care about your ears.  I want my daughter to win.

How many games has she won in her two seasons, you ask? NONE.  This may be one reason that she doesn't want to play anymore.  Two losing seasons in a row can be hard.

How many goals has she scored, you ask? NONE, except once in practice.  I'm really just happy that she has learned to not just stand there and let the other kids run past her with the ball.

This one is my favorite!

This is what seems to happen every saturday afternoon, once our morning adventures are over.

Olivia - the picture of perfection?

This morning, as I was making my morning rounds to open the blinds on the windows and let in the beautiful sun, this is what I came across at my front door.  Not that I was surprised, just angry for the millionth time.

We have given Olivia her own space to keep her back pack, her jackets, soccer crap and apparantly dirty socks and shoes.  But the part that makes me angry?

Note the lovely hooks that are at just the right height for an Olivia.  Also, note how there is nothing hanging from them.  But...

all this crap on the floor.  Blocking the door.  This is a FIRE HAZARD for chrissake!!!

So, after calmly and nicely informing yelling about the consequences for leaving all this crap on my floor, I pulled out my camera and started taking pictures.

This got Olivia's attention.

"What are you doing, Mommy?"

"I'm taking pictures of how you leave your stuff.  I'm going to write a blog about it."

Picture - terrified Olivia.

NOOOOOOO!!!

Crying ensues.  She's devastated.  She sits on the stairs to have a dramatic emotional episode.

Being the loving mother that I am, I jump on this and push the buttons even further.

"Oh yes.  Everyone will know that you are not perfect."

This pushes her over the edge.  She's truly upset, but still sitting on the stairs doing nothing to change my mind.

"You know, Olivia.  You could actually clean up this mess."

Now, her crap is on the hooks.  And you are aware that my precious Olivia is not perfect, if you did not know already.  But don't ler her know. It just might break her heart.  We'll wait for her teenage years to do that.