Kids should not get a trophy JUST for their mom sending in a registration form, writing a check, driving them to practice, watching them stand around a field with really no clue what they are doing and perhaps not even knowing which sport they are really playing. They should not go through their lives thinking that just by showing up, they will get rewarded. That is wrong with the “tweeners” we see today. I have coached them. Andy has seen them come into the workforce. Their expectations are too high and their work ethic is too low. And if you ask me, it is because a generation of hovering, helicopter parents never taught them any hard lessons. And youth sports, which used to teach teamwork along with the consequences of winning and losing, is now more about fostering equality than naturally showcasing natural selection.
OK. That was my staple stump speech at dinner parties, the office water cooler or anywhere else anyone would listen. However, yesterday, Alex got his first trophy. And now I am feeling a bit of remorse for being so cynical and may need to reluctantly retract some of my comments.
Alex’s first full season of a team sport - YMCA Flag Football - has come to an end. He loved going to practice. He loved carpooling with the other boys. He loved having a coach, wearing his uniform and wearing a mouth guard (when we remember it). He scored five touchdowns for the season, but he will talk the most about his touchdown saving tackle (or flag pull). He knew the score of every game and was so excited to end the season on a high note - a squeaker of a win, 14-13, over the league leading “Touchdowners.” Afterwards, they handed him his trophy along with his juice box and I got a glimpse of pure happiness and satisfaction for a job well done. It was right then that I realized he deserved it, and possibly so did all those other kids I have been bashing for years.
But keep in mind, Alex is five. And I really hope I am not writing this same post when he is 15. Until then, congrats on a great season Green Bengals!
Click here to see a video of Alex in action on the football field.
My parents still wore their pilgrim outfits and we supplied the “warm” wine. Some traditions will always stay the same and that is the way it should be. It was another great Thanksgiving spent with family, and a fun four-day weekend with old and new friends. We are very thankful, and now ready to take on the rest of the holiday season. 
We have watched Cinderella (one, two and three), Snow White and Tinker Bell, but figured we have a few (or several) more years until we would sit down with Sleepless and Seattle or Sex and the City (one or two). But like always, Avery has proved me wrong and has demonstrated she may be three going on 23 by climbing on my lap and watching all three and ½ hours of Eat Pray Love. It kept her attention, as well as mine -- I was a bit skeptic about the motion picture given my love and appreciation for the book. But kudos to the producers, screenwriters and director. Not a bad job. So we ate pizza, planned our first mother-daughter trip to Europe and had a few open conversations about why Liz (the lead character) always looked so sad. If it was not a matinee showing and if she was not three and ½, we might have been splitting a bottle of vino.
Too young. Lives in a studio apartment. Not married. Lives in Colorado. Can’t cook. Has conflicting obligations with in-laws. These are just a few of the spoken reasons that I have never been asked to host a major holiday for the Foley family, but I am also guessing there might be a few unspoken ones: Do not want to break tradition. Lives in Cincinnati. Does not own a pilgrim costume. And does not have a dining room table.
Thank you school picture re-take lady for telling my son his original photos were cute, and she didn’t understand why his horrible mother found them unacceptable and would force him to go through the awful experience of waiting in line and using a small black plastic comb one more time. Ok, the last part of that might not have been said directly to Alex, but it was implied and his line of questioning (accompanied by tears) to me last night indicates he got her subliminal message.
To ensure everyone that I don’t think that my kids are the funniest on the planet, I thought it could be good to share some of the witty, goofy and illogical words produced by other kids – those of friends, family and strangers on the street. Here is a start. I am leaving names anonymous to protect their future cyber identities, but some of you might recognize them. Feel free to add to the list in the comments below.
Andy is currently reading the hilarious book, Sh*t My Dad Says by Justin Halpern, and I am browsing over his should every chance I get, both laughing and cringing at Mr. Halpern’s "philosophical musings.”
Just like how wedding thank you notes have a grace period (one year), I am thinking that sharing holiday pictures should be structured in a similar way – giving you enough time to get your act together, but not allowing it to linger on too long (no one wants to see pictures of green beer in August). 
Kids should not get a trophy JUST for their mom sending in a registration form, writing a check, driving them to practice, watching them stand around a field with really no clue what they are doing and perhaps not even knowing which sport they are really playing. They should not go through their lives thinking that just by showing up, they will get rewarded. That is wrong with the “tweeners” we see today. I have coached them. Andy has seen them come into the workforce. Their expectations are too high and their work ethic is too low. And if you ask me, it is because a generation of hovering, helicopter parents never taught them any hard lessons. And youth sports, which used to teach teamwork along with the consequences of winning and losing, is now more about fostering equality than naturally showcasing natural selection. 
All work and no play is making me grouchy, tired and withdrawn, as well as making me fall behind on posts and photos. 
