The Orchard Team Huddle

Each morning I ask Mason what he wants for breakfast and each morning the answer is the same, "hah-gogs."  I am a pretty traditional person who has some very definate ideas about what is and isn't proper breakfast food.  I don't do cold pizza, cake or brownies and no soda before lunch.  See, very traditional!  Cheerios, waffles, eggs, oatmeal, yogurt, smoothies-these are proper breakfast foods.  I have wasted enough food to feed a small country trying to get Mason to eat the "right" things for breakfast.  So, in my wiser because-it-doesn't-really-matter years I have decided to give in to the non-traditional request.  So what if Mason wants hot dogs for breakfast.  I only buy the Jenny O (we have the same name so I am a big fan!) turkey franks that have 50% less fat than normal hot dogs do.  They have 4 grams of protein and I know they are better for you than a Poptart!  So, as disgusting as I think it is it makes that breakfast batt...

For the past 5 years Stockton has watched Douglas play in game after game after game.  He has endured rain, cold and heat, mud and bugs, pokies and rocks, long days, late nights and port-a-potties. He has scaled backstops, trees and walls, cheered, snacked, practiced and dreamed.  He has traveled to Idaho, St. George, Steamboat Springs and Cooperstown all in the name of Douglas' baseball. All of those years prepared him for a journey of his own.  This past weekend he played in his first ever Super League tournament.  And to make it even more special, Douglas' team did not play so this weekend was ALL about Stockton.  We got double cheeseburgers at McDonald's, foot-longs at Subway, Five Guys and shakes. When we weren't eating we were playing baseball.  The sun was shining, his uniform was crisp and clean, the dirt was dirty, the crowd was excited and I have to say I actually got a little choked up as the Horns took the field.  I LOVE baseba...

I would like to think that our family is one of the more loving ones around but there are days when I am discouraged by the lack of kindness between brothers.  We have the normal issues...arguing, whining, bugging, competition, whining, arguing, bossing, irritating, whining and arguing.  You get my drift.  Each boy has a role in the family.  We have our enforcer, I can do things better and faster, interrupt peaceful play, steal-the-ball-just-because-I-can son.  He would be the oldest.  The middle child is the leave me alone, you're hurting me, I'm-whining-loud-enough-so mom-can-hear-that-you-are-bugging-me son.  And last but not least, get-whatever-I-want-because-no-one-wants-to-see-me-sad-or-hear-me-cry would be our youngest.  These titles are given for the sole purpose of understanding the story that follows.  My boys also have many other descriptions that are wonderful and kind and gentle but for the sake of a better story we will go with ...

Six more weeks of winter.  That is what the groundhog said today when he saw his shadow.  I say I won't survive.  I can't do it, something has to give.  The older I get the harder winter is for me.  I do believe I am a girl of every season but I have had a little less patience with the cold and dreary and I find myself considering the idea of living somewhere that it never snows, there is no inversion and January doesn't leave you singing the blues (I never really would move, it just isn't me to leave what I have always known but sometimes I think about it).  Thanks to Coldwell Banker two years ago we were in Flordia in February.  Last year we went to Puerto Vallarta.  This year, NOTHING to look forward to, no toes in the sand, no oceanside walks, just the same old blah, blah, getting really tired of winter feeling.  Okay, so we are going to St. George next weekend but this trip has historically been an opportunity to hope for brighter days o...