Base Ten

 A full decade of Shaner. What a treat. There are few people in life who have a handle on carpe diem the way our boy does. Game for anything. And we've all survived! New bikes all around!

 Family birthday dinner, Rodizio's Brazilian grill, downtown Denver. LOVE this place. All-you-can-eat grilled meats, carved at your table; you just flag down a wandering server with a skewer the size of Rhode Island containing all manner of delicacies...eat 'til you drop. Shane's favorite place on earth.

 Mom had scored a Groupon to have our family pics taken at Sports Authority Field at Mile High along with a stadium tour, and since we were in the vicinity, and had yet, because of scheduling, to hold our family dinner for Shane's birthday, descended. We were, I couldn't help but notice, the only group brave enough to bring their children, to say nothing of how many children we brought, but we're used to that.

 Hard to believe that once all Shane cared about was Cars. Then Star Wars. Then Harry Potter. Then Roblox. Then Minecraft. Now Halo. Many, many computer geeks and social misfits worldwide are grateful that this child came to earth, I'll tellya what. Shane's got quite the computer proclivities of his own.

 A boy and his donut. Presh.

 Shane's crew at Speed Raceway...another stellar group of young men. Good friends to my fella, and as any mother knows, you'll walk across heaven and earth to find good friends for your kids, and you'd take bullets for them just as surely as you would for one of your own.

Shane's always had a good ear for music: he continues his piano lessons, tortures, I mean, treats us daily to impromptu recorder recitals, and started beginning band this fall at the trumpet. Here, at the Castle View High School elementary and middle school feeder concert. You've never heard a version of "Hot Cross Buns" like this version. Sent chills up my spine.

Twelve Years of Tysie

 Ty's been around a dozen years or so...you know the day will come when your little fella will be ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood as a deacon, you know he will pass the sacrament and collect fast offerings and be part of a quorum.  You spend as much time as you can muster to prep him - he doesn't 'wing it' terribly well - and then, behold! The day is upon you.

 He's the most solid of kids, conscientious and sensitive and earnest and sincere; smart, curious, soaks up all information like a sponge. So I wasn't all teary-eyed over my boy growing up so much as honored that any child of mine could withstand his upbringing and dedicate himself so fully to sacred things.

 What am I looking at here?

Anyhoo...immediately following his ordination. Proud days for Crawfords.

 Ty's birthday fell the day before our Fall Break trip to Florida, so we celebrated in stages, as we always seem to do...this is his late-in-the-month birthday party, showing off his good taste in friends as much as his gift: few things say 'Ty' like baseball cards. He also scored a flat-billed black Angels cap, around which his life has centered since it came out of the box. No joke.

 Scene of the crime: Speed Raceway in Centennial...a haven for all boys and a few select sisters. They gear you up, have you pick a nickname, track your speeds and rank you - and make parents jump through every legal hoop known to man in order to let their children race. I've never once been there when one kid in every group couldn't procure the correct signature on the correct line, or attached the photo copy of the driver's licence, or some combination of the two, and are just kicking it in the lobby, waiting for mom to fax the proper info. This time, it was one of our guests.

 Too big for cakes, mom. Just Krispy Kreme donuts. But I have to have one with sprinkles. And the stupidest-looking candle you can rummage up in the drawer to go in the middle. There. NOW I'm a creeper.

 Ty and Corey. Ty really does have a great group of friends - he's stellar all-around, academically, spiritually and socially, and the money part is how good he is at knowing his own pulse and who complements him, makes him feel good inside, has his back. If I could just bottle up all those boys and keep the best parts of them at 12, just to pour on 'em when they hit the bumps in the road and are tempted to become other than what they are...this group's gold, though. I don't see it happening.

Favorite gift: a bag to swing into, now that he's started Dolphins baseball in a year-round program. Baseball is life,  people. He finished another great fall season with the Parker Hawks, but not great enough to drive out the love of basketball, which will start, oh, momentarily. 

Lucky 13

 Holy Hannah, would you lookit this: we got ourselves a teeanager! She just gets older each passing year. I know: super deep.

The irony at being consistently surprised by an annual event never ceases to amaze: I do it for each of the offspring's birthdays, every summer break, every Christmas. I'm reasonably intelligent, good at patterns. But I just never see it coming, the milestones that take her from my baby girl to my young woman. They accumulate, and wham! Who's THAT girl?

 Always eager to accommodate, my Eve. Take this Rockies game, for instance. Just so I'll continue to acknowledge her (i.e., laugh and talk with her, drive her around, buy her Aeropostale), she wears the grey Rockies T. For daddy, who bankrolls our lives and takes baseball uber seriously, the vintage A's cap. A builder of bridges, a peacemaker. Always has been.

 Also a swimmer. Which means more than the fact that she's water safe. Like most sports, a whole shorthand of behaviors and characteristics is implied but never explicitly stated: Determined. Dedicated. Consistent. Encouraging. Supportive. Level-headed. Reliable. Driven. A time manager. A planner. Prone to sacrifice. And when you hold the beautiful infant in your arms for the first time, you may never consider how important you find those characteristics in others and how many of them you want that child to possess. We just count ourselves blessed that she came to earth this way, and that we found, relatively early on, what she loves and what will help shape her into the gal she needs to be. 

 Eve's never been a huge reader - I would spend literally hours reading to her throughout the day when she was small - but reading for her own enjoyment and enlightenment never held much priority until I brought home Suzanne Collins' masterwork in the Hunger Games series. Eve was in from the first sentence, just devoured them. And now she branches out into like-minded books, reading hours a day, ON HER OWN. I never expected her to be just like me, and, truthfully, wouldn't wish that on her, but to share that love of reading, well, I can feel good about that wish coming true.

 And we celebrate all things Eve with a rowdy sleepover...Eve's always been an easy laugher. Most times, I think, less because you're actually funny than because she's so delighted to be sharing happiness with you.

 Like I said, they were rowdy. But so great. A roving pack of screaming gigglers.

And so, my cross-eyed little beauty...many happy returns. We bless the day you came along and rearranged everything so splendidly, endlessly grateful for every day since. 

These Are But Two of our Favorite Things...

 Some of you may not know. So I'm here to tell ya. The Denver Broncos have procured the services of one Peyton Manning at the quarterback position.

We're excited about that.

Now that the Broncos hold Training Camp sessions in the south Denver metro area (technically Englewood), attending is much more convenient than it was back in the day when Dad and I trekked in Greeley to watch Elway break the fingers of unsuspecting receivers...it's so convenient, in fact, and folks are so excited over the prospect of this fella taking snaps in the Mile High City, that the daily attendance at training camp numbered into the thousands. On opening day there were 4,000-something; on our second day, about 10 days later, we were among the over 5,000. We waited for loaves and fishes...I can't even finish that sentence. Too sacreligious. 

 Some of you may not know that we swim, either. We do. A lot. This particular shot captures the bliss of a twilight swim at Gilbert Pool in Castle Rock, when the park was closed to residents for a private party for the brave souls (and their families) who coach youth sports for the Rec League. We're continually grateful Matt devotes such a large chunk of his time to his own kids and those in the community - walkin' the talk, that boy.

 Did I mention we attended Broncos Training Camp? I did? Huh.

 Has it been sufficiently illustrated, the degree to which our little family appreciates the on- and off-the-field talents of one Peyton Manning? Grace didn't think so, and took it upon herself to illustrate some more.

 Swimming. Or, rather, splashing and squealing.

Evie and Gracie. Neither swimming or Peyton-ing. But it was cute.

Our summer was a scorcher, nigh unbearable, and I'm a little incredulous that Grace found occasion to wear a cardigan, quite frankly.



Down in the Cruisers' Cemetery...

...that's where your team's gonna get buried!

The kiddos uniformly agree that the Cruisers cheer could be improved. The lyrics are bad and the chant is far too long, but we musn't let it color our perspective.

The Castle Rock Cruisers rec summer swim team boasted three Crawfords this season - Eve hadn't joined their ranks since the summer of her 9th birthday - and though she's at most of the meets anyway and might as well put on a suit, it was a very full, very exhausting experience for the lot of us. 'Good' bordering on 'Glorious', but challenging. 

 Capturing the essence of these sisters - Eve is the Little Mother, the one who's not slightly overweight and unravelled by details. She also doesn't spend the majority of her time mentally preventing herself from physically throttling other spectators. The Mother, in short, who knows what to say to a nervous swimmer.

 Gracie's season was a success, for sure, though she was discouraged somewhat at not qualifying to swim at either Championships or All-Stars, as she did last summer (Championships requires that you place within the top 12 swimmers in any event at a Preliminary meet, and All-Stars requires that you swim an event in a set time at least once over the course of the season). Last year, at the ripe old age of 6, it was easier to qualify - once you hit that 7-8 girls' bracket, however, the sheer number of other swimmers rises exponentially, and it's just plain hard. But she improved so steadily and surely, we're just so proud of her.

 Backstroking Queen. My favorite swim moment for her occurrs at the neighborhood pool we seem to spend every afternoon enjoying - during the safety breaks, instead of joining the others in gorging on whatever we have handy in the cooler, she chooses to lap swim along with the adults, just for practice.

 Shaney-bo-Baney found himself on the lower end of his age bracket as well, so we were thrilled when he clawed his way to the Championships and earned an All-Star time in Backstroke. Every year he claims this is his last Cruiser season and that he'll just concentrate on the year-round Rock team, but every year he's back with the promise of underwater success...he'll be in prime position next year to repeat the award-winning magic of last season, so I fully expect him to be back in action.

 GoShaneGoShaneGoShaneGoShaneGoShane...

 The consistently butt-kicking 9-10 Boys Free Relay Team: James, Noah, Shane and Kenobi. Nope. Not a typo. His name's Kenobi, after your favorite Jedi. And mine, by the way.

 The maestro. Best memory: seeing him glide to the swimmer on either end of the lane to shake their hand...sportsmanship wasn't necessarily lacking before, it just never occurred to him to acknowledge someone he has either beaten or been beaten by. Lots of growth for the little man.

 Eve finally committed to doubling-up on her swimming commitments - not the biggest fan of the early-morning Cruiser workouts, but then, none of us are. The main pull for swimming rec is to reaffirm to yourself that 'Yup, I'm pretty dang good.' While club swim doesn't involve the sheer numbers of teams and participants as football and basketball, a healthy swim community exists in Colorado, and the long and short-course meets are filled with literally hundreds of swimmers per age group, which makes it common for you to whoop 'Yes! 24th in Freestyle!" 'Sweet! 14th in Back!" Cracking the Top 10 is a Herculean accomplishment, reserved for the hard-core kids who are eyeing Olympic trials and whatnot, a la local Missy Franklin, whom we hope kicks some tail in London.

 Rec swim also boasts a LOT of swimmers, but the best swimmers in any summer league spend their entire year swimming for another club, so by the time you hit Championships and All-Stars, it's just a mini state meet, with the added bonus of your placing in the Top 10 or even Top 5 consistently...the pleasure of leap-frogging the higher ordinal numbers is immense. Eve's here pictured with the Girls 11-12 Free Relay Team: Eve, Katie, Kelly and Grace, who forced all to eat their bubbles every time they crossed the platform.

 Eve made All-Star times in every event available to do so, as well as Championships for Free, Back and 200 IM (you can only swim 3 events at any one meet) and did beautifully, bringing home enough blue ribbons to wallpaper a room.

 For Rock, the long-course meets have been scattered this year...the team arranged a developmental meet with our neighbors just to the south in northern Colorado Springs, Peak Swim. You can't imagine the luxury of a nearly open deck, not packed to the hilt with tents and chairs and spectators - it's politically incorrect and I know it, but any swim meet can double as an ADD Convention: I truly don't get why everyone feels compelled to wander. Constantly. They bring these tents and chairs and line the deck, preventing free views for all, and refuse to sit in them for even a minute. Biggest summer pet peeve. And, for the love of all that's holy: if you're not watching your swimmer, could you kindly back away from the pool's perimeter? Maybe so one of the other 603 swimmers' families could catch a glimpse of their own offspring? I probably wasn't using my inside voice for that.

 Just to get unobstructed photos of your swimmer is what I imagine attending a swim meet in the Celestial Kingdom would be like. And don't think for a second that there won't be swim meets there. Just don't.

Fly isn't her natural or best stroke, but always makes for a fun picture.

 The best part of any meet: the crap. In this case, Ring Pops for earning a best time.

 Swim meets are, by and large, a HUGE time suck. I don't deny it. And due to the nature of our kids' strengths, combined with our unique talent for saying 'Yes' when all other families say 'No' (i.e., 'Sure, we'll swim the last leg of that last relay', 'Sure, we'll time the last half of the meet') we're always on hand from warm-ups to tear down, so spending 6-7 hours at a meet isn't unusual...it would bother some. But it's just family time for us; lots of time for kissing and wrestling and talking and chasing and, yes, bothering.

So we put a cap on it. Worth it, every summer. 

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.)