But, please watch me climb, 
Don’t mind me, I’m concentrating.
Oh no! (Mom panics, and misses a few shots.)
Everyone would love themselves and wear fancy hats.
We could pop balloons with our butts just for fun.
We could let out all of our frustrations by pulling on eight kids on the end of a very large rope.
Everyone would get some kine of award, and be very happy and proud of their hard work.
Our teachers would cut us a break when they had to replace the paper that they told us to be very careful with. They would forget that they told us to place it in a very important place instead of losing it out of our pocket on the playground.
Even though they said they would not reproduce our list of events, they would.
Why?
Because it is field day, and no one can go home disappointed, even if they tend to misplace things because they are too busy thinking about more important things.
(The little genius Abigail is just like her father. He needs a field day every day too so that when he loses that fourth wedding band [which is not a matter of IF but WHEN], I, too, will cut him a break.)
We could just hug our friends.
We would not just cheer on our classmates but the opponents from the “other side” also.
And, we could run just for fun.
(Man, I really need an adult version of a field day.
I haven’t run for fun in approximately 15 years)
And, last but not least, if we could have a field day every day,
everyone would take a moment to enjoy the vastness of the sky.
And, like me, they would know God is up there somewhere.
And they would know that he’s watching over all of his children.
And on field day, everyone would be happy because God would be happy.
Why?
Because his children are all getting along, enjoying each other and encouraging each other.
And that is the most important reason that even if every day isn’t field day,
we should act like it is.
And, if you can’t be nice like it’s field day…
…go and pop a balloon with your butt.
It will put you in the mood.
And, I am upset because anyone that matches her shirt 
Even, if they have a clothesline hickey on their neck.
We were so proud of Abigail at her track meet a few weeks back.
She is a pro at the potato sack race.
Her love for the sport all started at her monstrous 7th birthday party.
She practices all of the time during our backyard cookouts.
Abigail was in a strong second place. She was about to pull out to the front when she stumbled just a bit. She got right back up. She got 4th. She is a winner. Life won’t get her down.
Yet, today, all day, we were out searching for furniture to make that dream come true.
I think this was supposed to be a whole lot more fun!
We need an interior decorator, desperately, but, paying her wasn’t part of the original dream.
So, I guess we will have to keep faking it.
My sister Shannon, the family pro of soccer, recently gave me some great advice on surviving soccer season.
She used to drag me out to the BYU field to watch her then fiance, but now husband, Brett, play. (I won’t bore you with the details of Brett and I having the “is soccer or football the better sport” debate for eight hours straight one Thanksgiving)
Anyhow, Shannon’s simple advice truly made my life a lot easier during the past couple of months.
“Keep a case of bottled water in your van.”
Thank you Shannon. Because of not rummaging for water last minute, I was actually able to make it ON TIME to approximately 10 of the total 50 soccer practices this season? Wow.
Anyway, during this same conversation about bottled water, I asked Shannon if she knew anything about these new wave water bottles. (the ones that are supposed to keep you cancer free) I told Shannon that I had briefly read a blog post about somebody purchasing these really plush water bottles and replacing all the plain old plastic ones in the house. (I wish I could remember who posted about this, and I would link)
I had no idea that plastic water bottles were linked to causing cancer. Not that I care. I don’t trust scientists, and it truly seems that everything in this universe is out to kill you. My way of being happy in this life is choosing to ignore all the health reports.
Shannon and I talked about the days when we used to go out to the public ball fields to play Bobby Sox. Shannon recently asked my mom, “Mom, I don’t ever remember taking water bottles to the field back then, how did you get out of that responsibility?” Mom reminded Shannon, “Back then, everyone used the water fountains.”
Needless to say, I was thrilled when we traveled to Norris last week for one of Abigail’s games and found this quaint little community. I got to make a lesson out of this really cool old-school water fountain.
I sounded like a senior citizen, “Girls, when I was a kid, we didn’t have water bottles. Everyone would drink from public water fountains, just like this one.”
Seriously, are you with me on ignoring health reports? What really has the potential to be more harmful? The old school water fountains with all their public germs or water packaged in plastic?
Do you know what I say, “Who cares!” For all I know, by the time I am a true senior citizen they will be saying that it’s the water that causes cancer.
Tonight as I talked with my husband, I was expressing my concern for a friend who just had her third baby.
I asked LeGrand, “What can I do to help her transition?” I really want to try and alleviate some of her adjustment pain.
“Should I call the Relief Society and set up meals and babysitting?” LeGrand with his infinite wisdom says, “Yeah, you could do that, but why prolong the inevitable nervous breakdown.”
And, here is the telling rest of the paragraph. I hate to nark on myself here, but it is just too funny not to share. Here is what came straight from my hubby’s mouth.
LG: “Alice, she has to figure it out on her own. She’ll have the nervous breakdown, just like you did, and she’ll then figure stuff out on her own.”
Me: “Stuff, like what?”
LG: “Like, she’ll quit bathing her kids every day, and she’ll get a hobby, and she’ll let them sit in front of the TV, wash her dishes once a week, and get behind on her laundry.”
With LG’s raving review of my mothering skills, don’t you think I should call my friend right now and impart all my knowledge? And, also, don’t ya’ll think I deserve a really GREAT BIG Mother’s Day gift for learning every Motherhood survival technique known to womankind?
After posting about Sophia’s eight goals, I have been feeling guilty for not showing Bella out on the field. To tell the truth, I had picked out some pictures the other night, but I just got sick of waiting on upload time.
While Abigail plays offense and defense, Sophia is our offensive player. But, Bella , well she is most definitely our defensive player. We have been bragging on her abilities to “get that ball out of there” for the past couple of weeks. She never runs as fast as she does when she is trying to beat the opponent to the net.
At the last game, LG and I laughed so hard when we realized Bella’s motivation for getting to the net. I know she likes to stop the goals, but we figured out that she really loves to fish the ball out and hand it to the ref. Really we think that she only runs THAT hard to put herself to good use. She is such a good helper. She is such a hard worker. She loves to be useful. She is so much like her mom it is pathetic. Should we start her in therapy now or later?
alice w. gold 
