Where is there a Boy to Whom the Call of the Wild Does not Appeal?

Why, thank you, our ever-revered Lord Baden-Powell. I loves me the Cub Scouting program. I love that my boys participate, I love that the church adopts it as its official activity arm for its boys, I love that I've been asked to serve in its ranks and provide just a smidge of its magic for these kiddos. But there's the practical, dirt-encrusted underbelly required with scouting that gets harder and harder for me the older I get. It's depressing.
Another session of Pioneer Trails Cub day camp at Polson's Ranch...I hate to say it, but I must: there are a great many things in life that I once found fun and entertaining, or, at the very least, not nearly so difficult or annoying as I see to find them these days: I'd like to blame it on the thyroid, so I will. But normally, I enjoy, in a large way, the day camp experience. This year, not so much.  But not because of the company: I mean, look at those fellas! And they were amazingly easy: if you're going to herd cats for 7 hours, these are the cats you'd choose, hands down.

 The camp organizers like to stick with the program, with the usual result: the stations that aren't as much fun as others are consistently not as much fun as others. Such as Scouting Skills. Here, they made rope from twine. Which was a Disneyland ride compared to what they endured in Nature.

 Archery always rocks, though.

 And BB guns. The genius this year was having a first-come, first-serve sling-shot station, as well as a Sasparilla Saloon (root beer for 5 cents a cup) to while away your waiting time for either arrows or guns, and that, my friends, was a bit of a god-send on the 103-degree day I attended.

 As was the water.

 Ty attended 11-year-old Scout Camp with the saintly Brother Pierce and assorted other petty criminals from the Sons of Helaman Patrol, as can be readily discerned in this photo.

 The camp was held on the Bastian family's property just south of us...it's quite the spread, given the fact tht they have their own stream and lake. I mean, right? Owing your own tributary? That's impressive.

 Can you conceive of owning this kind of space, wherein  you could host a few stakes' worth of 11-year-old scout troops and not even notice that they're there? Love the Bastians, just love 'em.

 Ty and Landon. Being handsome, killing time.

Breakfasting. I'll probably be amending this blog entry, once Matt gets home (he actually attended and has some idea as to activities enjoyed and funny stories with which to caption.)

Dance Little Sister

 Recital 2012...holy cow.

On the day Kids Dance scheduled it's spring recital 'Out to Sea', all we had going was a swim meet in Grand Junction for Eve, which Matt would attend, a morning swim meet for Grace and Shane for the Cruisers, and two baseball games, scheduled for 2 p.m., exactly when Gracie was to take the stage. Many helpful parents and buckets of sweat later, we scraped our weary selves into Rock Canyon High School's gymnasium, makeup mostly intact, ready to dance.

 The tap routine was set to Adele's 'Rolling in the Deep', which lent such a spirit of maturity and gravitas to the proceedings that it nearly overswhelmed my darling girl each week as I picked her up from practice...it was a burden of cool that the girls could shoulder only in the recital experience.

 Oh, the sass! The soul! The swagger!

 The ballet number was choreographed to 'Under Water', a lovely but otherwise nondescript piece of music I'm not sure I would recognize if I heard it again. But the girls danced beautifully...she was so proud, particularly performing for her skeleton crew of Crawfords: mom, Aunt Diane, Grandma K, and the Crawford grandparents. We soaked up our applause, accepted our flowers, took our bows, made small talk with the appreciative hordes, then headed home in a wicked downpour to retrieve wet and dirty ballplayers and consume celebratory meal at Red Robin. Happy days, these.

Glove is a Many Splendored Thing

 To reiterate...Baseball 2012 was little on the shaky side. Our first e-mail came from the coach, who stated that he was our coach 'because no parents stepped up to take over.' So, great. A bunch of deadbeats who are going to be coached by a gruding parent. But it got even better: Billy Lyons, our Lions' coach, is a 22-year-old employee of the Rec Center who was assigned to us because of our deadbeat status - we were so deadbeat, we didn't even reach grudging level.

Matt served as Assistant because of his commitment to Ty's team, and there was no shortage of parents who 'didn't have time to coach', who nevertheless attended every practice and from the sidelines insisted they knew how to run a practice and would often tell the coaches what they should be teaching. Two coaches, surrounded by boys who can't follow directions, stop telling their teammates how much they suck, or be considered, by any criteria, universally familiar with the concept that you run to first before you run to second, and yet they should be learning learning hand signals on day one. So good times, right from the get-go.

Shane did well at first and catcher...when coach handed him his end-of-season trophy, he mentioned that Shane was the most knowledgeable about baseball, which he comes by naturally, living in this house. The other boys, for the most part, had never played baseball before, which is neither here nor there in the face of the fact that all but two of them had never played on ANY team sport before, which was glaringly obvious given their trouble learning sportsmanship, courtesy, appropriate language, respect, support, accountability, and the many other character traits to be gleaned from such endeavors. Good ballplayers, actually, but in the face of attitude, it didn't seem to account for much.

 In the spirit of not dwelling on the negativity...Shane ran and caught, but batting was nonexistent, for just about everybody: it's the first year of kid pitch, so if you didn't get hit, you were walked. Most innings were called by runs scored, not by outs. But once you made contact, there were many in-the-park doubles and triples and RBIs - football scores, just about every week.

So proud of Shaney, who really hung in there, and consistently attended practice and games, given the utter lack of joy involved in the endeavor this time around. It was hard for him to have kids arguing over the use of gear in the dugout, the kids who wouldn't shake his encouraging hand after they struck out, etc. And incredibly proud that he unequivocally states for the record that he'll absolutely be back for next season, just as long as we take care not to sign him up with the same teammates.

 Happy, happy, joy, joy.

 You can't go wrong with a first base coach of this level of ability and experience.

Ever-attentive, on the prowl, on the move.

It's a Cowhide Joyride!

 It's perfectly acceptable to steal a catchphrase from Dan Patrick to caption one's blog. My attorney will not be taking letters from your attorney on this subject.

So baseball 2012 was a bit of a disappointment for both Crawford boys...the Sox had lost several pitchers, and seemed to regress some in the field and behind the plate, BUT...Ty was able to move to top pitcher in the roster (the difference in his confidence and ability over that of last season was amazing from his perspsective, and just plain addicting to watch from ours), and with Matt as head coach, the Sox had a good, clean, fun-filled, though not particularly successful, season.

 Ty always has the steady bat...he excels in the contact hit, right where it's least expected. The league as a whole had trouble with fielding, but he's so razor sharp on the base running, it didn't really matter whether or not they had gotten their mitts on those hits or not.

 Truly, building on his base running skills honed in last fall's Hawks league, Ty functions as his own base running coach. Lightning quick.

 And some of the fellas are a little hesitant to lead off of 2nd, in the highly improbable event that someone would throw the ball to the baseman and he'd actually catch it (that sounds absolutely below the belt, but after seeing a few games it's universally true, they've all got, at age 11, what my dad would lovingly call 'Stone Hands'). Ty's halfway to third by the time the ball leaves the pitchers' mitt.

 These boys, for the most part, have been together since 2nd grade or so, and those that were new arrivals were welcomed in seamlessly...love what one of the dads told me, when Matt was at an away swim meet with Eve during the game when Ty managed to strike out 6 batters in two innings... I joked that Ty's performance was aided by the absence of his domineering coach, and Mike said: 'Yeah, 'domineering'. Caring, kind, communicative, supportive, concerned, for sure. Domineering, no. A yeller he is not.'

 The first of 5 game balls awarded for either Offensive or Defensive Player of the game...

Coach Crawford travelling again (Mississippi in July. You know you're jealous), so Coach Craig and Coach Chris (an old schoolmate of mine from Aurora Hinkley, whom, coincindentally, played baseball on the varsity team I managed) got to do the trophy honors. As I said, not the best season ever (though they did manage a stunning upset in round 1 of the playoffs), but Ty's got his sights set on the future, where he hopes to rejoin Coach Mike and his Hawks fall ball team, and will try out for the AAA Rockers team, which will be a year-round commitment. By now, we're used to that. And Ty CANNOT WAIT. All baseball, all the time. That's my boy.

End O' Year Festivities and Whatnot

 Imagine our great relief when the month of May did not race by at breakneck speed...May is always ridiculously over-scheduled with year-end festivities. Not that we were bored. Just not ridiculously over-scheduled with year-end festivities, just moderately over-scheduled with year-end festivities. Witness: Grace's third Kidstage production of the year, 'The Infamous Shoe Gang,' wherein she starred ast Rachel, a member of the aforementioned shoe gang who steals shoes from Imelda Marcos/Kardashian-caliber shoe hoarders in order to give the homeless the gift of footwear. A Robin Hood-type role, if you will. A feelgood take on theft.

 The spring piano recital. For which we always manage to be wildly unprepared until about a week prior, when we cram for it - perhaps not our best strategy. But then, our goal is not so much musical excellence, as, well, I'm not sure what to call our laissez-faire approach to practice, other than, perhaps, open-minded optimism that whatever we can devote to it will be all to the good. Shane, in particular, as a great musical ear, and tends to run on the perfectionistic side, which allows for a lot of alternation between blowing it off because it's too easy to shutting down because it's too hard. In process. And aren't we all.

 Eve rises to the occasion as only the oldest girl in the room can - she can sense, from a mile away, when littles will be looking to her to set the tone and the example for how 'the big kids' act, and she pulls it off without breaking a sweat, every time. She's a wonder, that darling girl of mine.

 Field Day. Grace's date was mercifully overcast, so much fun...this was our best shot of over-the-top exuberance, and kudos to me: hula-hoop shots are notoriously difficult. Mrs. Sweeney's 1st grade class boasts some serious personalities, but I'll tell ya what: they genuinely love each other: there's no drama when it comes time to choose a partner, they cheer for each other's teams in relays, they're just good, supportive little classmates. Hate to see that group break ranks for the next year. The boys' scheduled field day conflicted with...

 Eve's end-of-year-luau-themed bash, so I had to take a pass on following both of them around Bison Park's field, because, really, if you're having a co-ed party for 12- and 13-year-olds, you just can't leave them alone for 2 hours. I mean, you CAN, I suppose, but I can't. Just a bit cold and drizzly on that last day of 7th grade, which was unfortunate for many reasons, not least of which because the rest of the spring was abnormally warm, and who would even think that we couldn't use our slip'n slide and eat our weight in Otter Pops because of the temperatures?

 Just a guest sampling: I forget her name, Desi, and Phoebe. There were even cute boys.

 Parties have become somewhat cast aside this year, I have found. Which all works. The 1st graders gave us a lovely concert of patriotic music they've been rehearsing, followed by a breakfast. Here, Grace stands with Phoebe and Kaylin, two dear, sweet friends with whom she also spent the year in the Brownie troop. Happy memories with great girls. A mom can't ask for much more than that.

 Shane's parting shot for me to witness was his 'Business Builders' unit presentation. Mrs. Mann, who is, sadly, leaving Clear Sky this year, was such a tour de force teacher for this 3/4 combo split - I hate to call it 'advanced', but, for lack of a better term...I prefer to tell Shane it's for the kiddos whose brains work differently than can best be accommodated by a standard classroom. That seems to work. Anyhoo...their groups worked with a Castle Rock small business to create for them a product and business plan, and Shane's group was assigned to 'They Just Keep Growing', our favorite local consignment store. They always create a media presentation along with their projects throughout the year, and here, in the upper right, you can see S hane functioned as the supplier for this little operation.  

 The Annual Clap-Out to honor the students for sticking out another year - this was mere seconds before Grace completely lost her composure over leaving her peers and classroom...many, many teary-eyed kids and teachers filed out of those front doors that day, a testament, I think, to what goes on in an inspired classroom environment, despite the criticisms of education these days. What these people manage to do with limited resources and unlimited children to inspire and discipline and instruct has always been an awe-inspiring thing, bordering on sacred.

 And he's off to 4th grade, folks. It hardly seems possible. And Ty's about to be big man on campus: 6th grade. Oh, you wait your whole life for that, don't'cha?



Hippity Hoppity

 Sunday, April 7, attempting to pay attention to General Conference in our 'King Benjamin Tent.' We're pretty stickler-ish about GC participation on Sunday. But the Saturday session? Always interrupted by festivities...such as an Easter Egg Hunt.

 And then there were two...two age-appropriate Crawfords, allowed to participate in public egg hunts. Sigh.

 Always easier to shoot an egg hunt from the back. Don't know why.

 Gracie Lou and I, braving the crowds at Park Meadows' Easter Bunny display...I HATE that they've gone all corporate and won't let you take your own photos anymore. We paid for a 5x7, but then the digital images? You have to shell out to publish them! Seriously! Bitter!  But we did get this dandy balloon wrist corsage.

 Coloring eggs.

 More. Shane just puts a spin on every activity that's hard to resist.

 Thanks to a later church time, the kiddos could enjoy their Easter fixin'ins beforehand (which I'm sure the Primary teachers just LOVED and appreciated so much!).

 Peeps on a stick. That Bunny. Ingenious.

 The kids got their usual delivery from The Bun: candy, videos (Happy Feet Two, TinTin, etc.) and these beautiful Manning t's. Unhappily, even the King of Easter couldn't procure jerseys on such short notice. Hmmmmph.

They clean up nicely, don't they?