The bigger they are

Towards the end of the school year, I had a brainstorm.  I have been increasingly concerned over Ryan, he's gaining weight, and was trying to think of a way to up his activity level without making him feel like I was picking on him.

I realize that he may have a growth spurt in his future, but maybe he doesn't.  And having a lifetime of "you'll grow out of it" still ringing in my ears experience behind me made me start thinking.

I decided that although our summers are brutally hot, we could do things together, as a family, that could be fun and get the kids off the couch, late in the day or early in the morning.  I told them they would have to earn their video game time, and just to sweeten the deal, I made it easy--15 minutes of activity for 30 minutes of game time.  I came up with things like kickball on Monday evening, maybe walking on Tuesday mornings, etc.  We would all play, and it would be good for every one of us.

I invited another family with four kids to come and play kickball with us, and tonight we had our first match up.   We had a lot of fun, even though I failed to take into consideration that they are quite athletic--soccer and running kids---and we are....not.  LOL 

We still had quite a good time, in spite of the fact that Mr W was not along this evening, and Audrey was not feeling well.  The other family readily stepped in and rotated people onto our team once it became apparent that we were in need of help.  :p

At one point, I was running to third base, my brain urging me to run faster to make it, just as my eyes noted one of the other kids moving towards me.  I put on the brakes. 

And still managed to trip.  In a most spectacular, play-of-the-week fashion.  It was not pretty, and it dispelled my thoughts of ever being a contestant on the Amazing Race, as clearly my talents are more of the MXC variety.

As the earth sped up towards me, I thought, sweet Jesus, this is gonna hurt, and I was right.  My hips and legs came up off the ground, and I scraped up everything from my right boob on down. My hands are scratched up, my knee and ankle really hurt, and there's a fabulous bruise on my calf.  Although I would have blamed no one for erupting in peals of laughter, my friends were good and asked me how I was before commencing to tease me and chuckle heartily.  (My children later assured me it was hilarious.)

All in all, as I sit here nursing my wounds, I realize it's not such a bad thing to remember how hard the ground really is, and not so bad to embarrass myself publicly. 

What's a little dirt amongst friends?

Besides, I'll be okay.

Once my ego stops smarting.