A Two Goal Lead is the Most Dangerous Lead...

When we first started taking the kids to daycare, or school as we call it, Eliot and Naomi both had a really tough time. Eliot sat in his corner in the bathroom, crying for, as he put it, 40 minutes. I understand now about the significance of the number 40 in the bible. 40 days, 40 nights, 40 years in the desert. 40, biblically speaking, means a VERY VERY VERY long time. Not actually 40 days or 40 nights, it just means that the people experiencing the pain and agony of that moment experienced it for a very long time. Eliot was in great pain and agony for 40 minute everyday, we still haven't quite figured out what happened, or even what motivated him to end his pain, I like to think it was one of the young women he has grown fond of lately. Naomi, on the other hand, simply didn't talk, she didn't interact with the kids, just sat around sucking her thumb and holding her blanket and sitting, I assume, in the lap of her teacher. We discovered Naomi's plight one day whe

I'm reading a book called "blink" which is about the fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a second decisions our unconscious makes in our lives. It is the millisecond when we know something is right or wrong, real or fake, etc, etc... For me, I was most in touch with that split second process when I was coaching soccer. I knew exactly when a goal was going to be scored, about 2 seconds or so before it actually happened. I could tell by the curve of the ball, or the location of the forward, or the misstep of a defender. I just knew. Therefore I was the first to cheer when one of my girls scored, or the first to groan and turn my head when we got scored upon. I just knew. Long after I had stopped coaching that ability remained until one day when I realized I was a bit rusty. I still remember it well, I hit a shot about as well as I have hit one before, it was about 25 yards out and the thing just knuckled and knuckled, there was no way it was going to miss, headin

We have members in the Garden who have a dear friend who lives in LA. In March, a few weeks ago, the mother gave birth to a beautiful child, named Madeline. Shortly after the birth, Liz, the mother, died unexpectedly. It is a tragic story, and AJ & Sonja, Madeline's Godparents, and members in the Garden, shared with me the story of Matt and Madeline and Liz. Today we raised over $400 to help Matt and Madeline meet at least some of their needs and prepare for a future without Liz. I just finished reading the blog that Matt is keeping about life with a new child and in the wake of the death of his beloved, and cried, and cried, and cried. I am sure it brings up for me some of the vulnerability that has never and probably will never heal over from the experience of Eliot's leukemia. Matt is an amazing man, and if you would like to read some of his story, go to: http://www.mattlogelin.com/ , but I warn you, have tissues and prepare to weep. There is great hope in the for

The other night I watched a movie called Heart of the Game. It is a documentary about a young African American women’s experience as a High School Basketball player in Seattle. She decided not to attend the school she lived next door to in favor of a white suburban school across town. It is a compelling story, and quite inspiring, I recommend it. One of the most effective things the coach of her team did was create what he called the inner circle. He believed part of his job was removing parents and other adults from the decision making processes these young women had to go through in order to create a team. He realized after he had implemented this plan that it meant he could not be a part of the inner circle either, being an adult. In the four years of this documentary the young women had to deal with tremendous decisions that would effect their season, chemistry and many other aspects of their game and lives on as well as off the court. Each player, at some point in the movi

I usually pick the kids up in a big room called: "The Commons" at Daycare. It is the place where they throw all the kids together, all ages and let them run rampant after 4PM because of rules and regulations which I won't get into right now. Suffice it to say, its always loud and crazy and wild. Eliot was standing in there one day, looking just fine, until I arrived when all of the sudden the flood gates opened and the tears poured out. Apparently one of the big kids had scared him pretending to be a fox, the poor kid didn't know how to respond so when I arrived he just cried, ran into my arms and sobbed. I told him next time to pretend he was on a horse with a big rifle hunting foxes for his family to eat. Just kidding, I would never do such a thing. Or would I... I did tell him to be wolf and howl and bare his claws and teeth. It seemed to calm him down a bit. Another time in the commons, as I arrived, a big kid came up to him and said, "I like your sh

Eliot just finished his last steroid pill this morning. Every month he gets 5 days of steroids, and while he does not turn into the little hole-in-the-stomach-eating-machine-with-a-temper monster anymore, he still is affected. Sara probably will hate me for this, but I am quite fascinated each month by how he changes during the steroid time. We will often say to people, when he is acting crazy and wierd, its the steroids. Most of the time people laugh and think we are joking, of course, it gets a bit awkward after that sometimes. No, really, he's on steroids. This month has been different than most in that he has been more clingy and attached to the hip, mostly of momma, not me, for some reason this past week or two, daddy mania has drifted away and I am no longer the exciting one to be with, momma has replaced me. Anyway, on Monday I dropped the kids off at “School”, that’s what we call daycare, school, they learn things there, like how to punch and kick and beat the crap out

I bought two doughnuts for Eliot and Naomi after my meeting at a local coffee shop on Monday and thought it would get me a lot of good points to give them the treats for the ride home. These were not just regular doughnuts, they were chocolate covered, with lots of sprinkles on top. The woman who served me there asked the question after I told her they were for my kids, not for me, "Why is it that kids absolutely love sprinkles, its not like they taste like anything, they just are colorful." We concluded that scientists everywhere had spent enormous amounts of time studying the pheromone reactions of children to eating sprinkles. Anyway, I left, excited to be able to give the kids their treats and was jazzed about to hear what they would say. In the car, I told them I had a present for the two of them, Naomi freaked out laughing and laughing and laughing, and as I reached into the big and pulled out the doughnut, she screamed in great delight. When I handed Eliot the dough