School, Whew!

Amy and I are grateful for school to finally start. This single event seems to bring some normalcy to our schedules. We don’t have to go over the plan for the day every morning with Erin, and Tyrel always knows what he is doing after school. For the record, Erin is still about to explode with all of the new things going on in her life. I hope her teacher is handling it well.

On the soccer field Erin continues to walk through the competition. It is thrilling to watch her play and we are grateful for the outlet for her seemingly endless energy. This year, more than before, I have noticed Erin plays soccer with jazz-hands. Apparently, she becomes so focused on the ball that she loses all conscious thought as to what her hands are obviously doing. From any angle you look at it, she is our only dancing soccer player. Just as fascinating to me is that a single game is so able to fully focus her mind and energy at one time. Often she is the sole scoring player for the entire game.

Tyrel has decided he likes being a 5th grader and shows signs of getting a swell head over being the oldest class in the school. He works hard to be a good student despite his drama over a tough math problem or two. In Iron County the students are given the option of participating in orchestra or an arts unit. Tyrel has opted for orchestra. As of yet, the newness of practicing the violin has not worn off. Who knows, maybe he’ll be the next Johann Bach- who plays baseball left-handed.

Tyrel recently played in the Labor Day Tournament in Utah County. Among these contests Fusion played their first game under the lights. Certainly no position shows a lack of night game experience more than an outfielder. Tyrel was schooled in a single hit. He started out playing a high fly ball in textbook form, but took his eye off the ball for a split second. For anyone who has studied at this same school of baseball, the end result of committing this “thou shalt not ever…” sin was immediately apparent. Tyrel lost the ball and truly never found it again until he heard it hit the ground a few feet behind him. I winced hoping he wouldn’t get hurt, but nobody was more surprised than Tyrel. Live and learn.

We are anxious for Ryann to arrive. This holding pattern our lives have assumed until “after” is frustrating for me. With no definite plans for the end of September, plus or minus a week, I get frustrated. I am eagerly awaiting Ryann’s safe arrival so we can all breathe a collective sigh and start the work of raising another baby from scratch, again.