Oh, You Know Where to Take Me...

The Rattlers take back the field, this time with a vengeance! If I had a cool voice like the movie-preview guy, you'd have goosebumps right now.
Truly amazing how much these kids have matured in the last 12 months since we last convened around the backstop. And Ty? I just love this kid: he is so earnest and focused; comes to every practice and game with his own hard hat, gloves, and gear in his baseball bag...he don't mess around.

First pitch of his first at-bat of the season, and bam! He oughta run a clinic.

Having a Field Day

So here's the thing: I love volunteering at Clear Sky Elementary. This time around: Field Day, which was its own brand of hilarity and incredulity. My disclosure: good action shots are hard to come by, so, trust me, Eve was a vision in a tie-dye swim team t-shirt and a hula hoop.
Here's the other thing: Field Day ain't what it used to be. The vast numbers of kids who didn't even know what a 3-legged race was, how to play tug-of-war or jump rope was staggering, but even more baffling were the parents: either the kids weren't competitive enough and the staff weren't taking the event seriously, or the kids were unfairly disadvantaged by their lack of experience. The teachers were so petrified that the kids would actually touch the turf with anything other than the soles of their shoes, my Shaney, irrepressible Shaney, walked the race. Walked it. My wild child walked it. Unbelievable.

After about 5 sessions of hearing parents provide little Johnny and Janey with pointers on how to "win" and/or avoid actual physical activity that may nor may not result in injury, my opening spiel evolved into: "It's a race, but there's no one to beat. If you haven't tripped, fallen down, come out of your tether or giggled, you haven't done it right." Ty's definitely my kid: if you can't be a goofball, what's the point?

I'm just saying: it's a crazed world out there. Protect your kids all you can. But maybe drawing the line at indulging their obsession with 6+ hours of DS would be good. Take 'em outside and let 'em touch the grass.

Walkin' in a Red Rock Wonderland

The Saturday of Memorial Day weekend found the Crawfords charging into unknown frontiers...today's project: The Garden of the Gods, Colorado Springs. Must see! Our impeccable timing ensured our participation in a 20-minute downpour, requiring all 7 of us to remain in el coche...this is what 4 kids and a pup look like just prior to implosion.

The natural red rock formations are breathtaking, and there's a handy little walking path for your perambulating pleasure...

We picked the perfect day, really: once the rain stopped, the park was relatively empty, cool, clean and lush by Colorado standards. Still covered in red dust, but I can only imagine what it would be like on a hot summer day. True to form, Ty was incapable of following on the path (he thinks outside of the box, y'know), and Shane was unable to resist knocking the pooling moisture off of every rock overhang, bush and tree.

Next time, Eve has mandated that we horseback ride through, which would be great except for that, well, it would require horseback riding for the vast majority of Crawfords who have no gift for it. That would be an excursion where video would be key.

This Is Not A Rebel Song...

So, 26 years after Bono and the boys descended upon Red Rocks to make the concert event of a lifetime a matter of public celluloid record, Eve Crawford took the stage as part of the Clear Sky Elementary School choir as they were invited with all of the district's singers to belt out "Battle Hymn of the Republic" for Castle View High School's first graduating class' commencement. She's the blonde angel 4th from the right on the first row of singers.
They didn't let her bring out a white flag. Or sing "Party Girl." Hmph.
Still pretty spectacular, and Evie was plenty aware of the gravity of the situation: "Bono could have stood right there, mom!"

School's Out For Summer!

Only because predicting spring weather in Colorado is like nailing Jell-O to a tree, the city of Castle Rock's Adventure Club Preschool last-day-of-school picnic had to be held in the gym due to an awful lot of drizzle. We all brought picnic lunches, made crafts, played on, in, and under parachutes, and told everyone to stay cool during the summer. Gracie is going to miss Ms. Amy, the teacher for whom she prays every night. She's had such a great experience in that classroom, we all hate to see it end.
Ms. Char has also been such a big part of Gracie's first school experience...we hope she'll be with her for Pre-K come fall.

Close-up of the artist as a young girl.

The joy of parachuting!

Baby, Take A Bow

"Baby, Take a Bow" was mom's first tap-dance recital number when she was 5, and watching little Gracie-Lou-who-is-twice-as-much-as-two in her first costumed recital brought up all kinds of memories...the 2009 version of tap dancing joy came on the strains of "Mickey Mouse's Birthday Party", complete with tap-tap-taps, boogie-woogies and shouted lyrics to "come along with me: it's Mickey Mouse's Birthday Party, what a sight to see!" It was.
I wish they could have this amount of sass forever. And that they'd always fight for their proverbial little dance square in the world, wouldn't be pushed out of place by anyone or anything.
The arabesque-ing wonder, a conscientious objector to tights.

Big thumping bass, metallic pom-poms...So, you think you can dance? Next to this, fuhgeddaboutit!

The crew with Grandma K, en route to a Dairy Queen celebration of all things dance.

And she's back, ladies and gentlemen!

Evie's always had a gift for swimming: the right build, speed, great natural technique (so the coaches say: mom doesn't swim, and is perfectly oblivious). After last summer, during which she swam for two teams, we had to circle the wagons a bit and avoid knocking all love for this sport clean out of her. She rejoined the year-round club team again in January, and this is her first meet since July of '08; just watch her rock on wid her bad self!
Freestyle is always her best stroke; she beat her best time, which was a big pat on the back for her after such a long break.
I always love the pictures of take-off, something about those splayed arms...
Touching the wall after breast stroke; her least favorite, but always game to try. Fun for the whole family to be a this emphatically "away" meet (about 1 hour each way): Uncle Gordon, visiting from Virginia, not only sacrificed is vacation time to spend hours poolside, but furnished us these nifty pictures courtesty of his "real" camera. The genuine treat of any meet is the concession stand (whose selection was off-the-charts great), and the obligatory Playland stop on the way home. The littles had been so patient...

Yeah, Boy-eeeeeeeeeeee!

The after-effects of a too-zealous romp down the stairs wrapped in blankets and comforters. They only did this one or maybe 14 times. Lost count.
Adding a sister is always a plus; a fresh body to pin spruces up a bout of death-defiance better than anything else I know.

If you saw this outside of your tent on the Father-Son's campout, wouldn't you turn tail and drive on home?

Dad braved it nonetheless. Matt Crawford's no pansy!

The Polson's ranch was beset by countless tents, filled with long-suffering men and obnoxious boys whose mothers are not present to tell them to "mind their manners" and "keep it down". Rumor is that all survived rainshowers and what seemed to be an hourly train whistle. Most slept off the after-effects on Saturday.

The downside of our neighborhood is the absence of other families. The upside: still lots of construction, and mounds of dirt for the only consistent playmates the Crawfords have: each other. This particular romp halfway down Candleglow Street took hours.

Again, no actual injuries. We are an odds-defying gang.