Fine. You Can Pay for Your Own Swimming Lessons.

At least we won't have to worry about Curtis giving into peer pressure.

When the boy doesn't want to do something—which is almost always—he just won't do it.

Traci signed the kids up for swimming lessons again this summer. Though swimming is one of the few things that Curtis actually likes to do, he flat out refused.

When some kids refuse, you can just say, "Well, you're doing it anyway." That doesn't work with Curtis. You can try rewards, punishments, or whatever you want but he still won't budge.

After exhausting all avenues, Traci said, "Fine. Then you're going to have to pay me the 33 nonrefundable dollars that I paid for your lessons."

Uh-oh.

If there's one thing Curtis cares about, it's money. In lieu of Christmas and birthday presents, this year he just asked for cash. Throw in the money he got at his baptism, and he's basically loaded now.

He looked Traci in the eye, turned around, marched into his room, cracked open his wallet, and handed her exactly $33.

"Fine. There you go," he said defiantly.

Traci took the kids to swimming lessons. Paige and Tate got in the pool. Curtis stood his ground. He and Traci sat on the bleachers and watched.

A Day at Cub Country

I was pretty lucky to get to spend at Cub Country with Curtis. Though it's been almost 30 years since I was last there, it was just like I remember it.

First stop: The Trading Post. Thanks to the $10 Grandpa gave him, he was able to score a sweet rubber band shooter and a bear tooth necklace.

Then on to the obstacle course. Curtis was on his way to the record-setting time when the tires got the best of him. He was the first kid in the troop to scrape a knee; by the time we left, just about every boy was covered in band aids. 

The boys listened intently as the squeaky-voiced teen showed them how to shoot the BB guns. (I was mesmerized by his super-sweet teenage mustache.)

Finally, the moment came that he Curtis had been waiting for. He became a marksman. 

All that shooting makes boys hungry.

Curt was kind enough to pause for a photo with his biggest fan. 

And then it was back to business. 

Like roping fake calves. 

And learning how to fold the flag.

God bless Cub Country. 

From the Golden Spike to the Spiral Jetty

Memorial Day seemed as good a reason as any to head north...and then west. 

The goal was to get our Utah history on at the Golden Spike National Historic Site, but with the way things were going in the car ride there—with the constant fighting and Tate eating just about every treat in the car by 9:30 a.m., and then asking, "When's lunch?"—I wasn't sure we were going to make it. 

 

I know my parents took us to Golden Spike when we were kids, but I only have a vague recollection of an old train and some oldy-timey people.

Turns out, there wasn't much more to remember. 

Sutherland Spring Break

Like every other family in the state, we headed south for the kids' spring break. Though we've been to St. George a million times, we've never taken the kids to Zion National Park. 

That fact that fourth graders get into national parks for free was just the kick in the pants we needed. 

The park was crowdddddded. That meant finding a parking spot it Springdale, taking a shuttle bus to the park and then another one up the canyon. Luckily, our kids liked taking the bus as much, if not more fun, than visiting the park itself. (Our hikes are always filled with lots of grumbling.) 

After all of the bus shuttling, we only did one short hike before the kids were complaining and wanting to go to the condo. Still a success by our standards. 

The weather was perfect for hiking in the sun, but pretty chilly for swimming. Luckily, kids never seem care. 

It was a good weekend for Easter egg hunting, bowling, rollerskating, hiking, tennis, and Go Fish. 

And we even ran into some people we know. Sixty percent of the Sutherland clan happened to cross through St. George on Easter Sunday. 

School was out Thursday, Friday, Monday, Tuesday so we took advantage of the cheap Monday night hotel rates in Las Vegas. 

The kids were excited to go to the Hersey's store, but the highlight was supposed to be mega pool at the Mandalay Bay. There was just one problem: it was freezing outside. 

Actually, it wasn't really the cold, it was the wind. With gusts of 40-50 mph, bark was flying off the palm trees like missiles into the pool. The sand from the fake beach was whipping around and pelting us in the head. We withstood the wind, but when it started raining, too, the entire pool emptied out. By the time we made it to our pool chairs, our towels and clothes were completely covered by sand. It was a muddy mess. 

But vacation is vacation. We still had a great time lounging around the hotel and visiting the Lego Store so Curtis could spend the Easter money that he had gotten from Great Grandma. 

And even some wind and rain in Las Vegas was better than the snow back home. 

It's always tough to come back. 

GOOOOOOAAAAALLLLLLLLLLL!!!!

It's been a good season for Tate. In one game, he scored nine goals. Nine goals! A triple hat trick! (In the Pre-K league there are no goalies, but still...)

When someone asked him how many goals he'd scored, he replied, "I don't know. More than I can count on my ten hands." 

He's more of an athlete than a scholar. 

He spends the majority of the game smile. And why not?

Curtis, on the other hand, never smiles. He's just not that kind of guy. (I snapped this photo between him making horrible faces at me.)

Curtis has played for the same coach each of the past four seasons. Coach Javier is not only a great coach but he's become a good friend. 

Javier takes care of all the coaching and I'm in charge of doing all the texting. I send out all the reminders about practice, make sure that parents remember to bring treats, and let people know when the coach is running late. 

I figured this makes me the team communications director--an important role in any successful sports organization. When I described these duties to one of my coworkers, however, she responded, "So, you're the soccer mom?" 

"What? No," I said. "I make sure everything's running smoothly with the team."

"Yeah," she said. "Like a soccer mom."

"Yes," I replied, downtrodden. "Like a soccer mom." 

Despite his grumbling about playing soccer this season, Curt was pretty excited (in a Curtis kind of a way--exhibited in the form of a little half-smile) to score the game-winning goal during his first game on Saturday, and then to score two more during the second game.

Another soccer season in the books. Proud of my two soccer guys. 

Rollercoasters: No Fun at All

Even on a roller coaster, Curtis finds a way to have no fun at all.

Anniversary

13 years ago today.

Picture Day

Most important day of the season. 

Back on the Pitch

Today was the first day of Spring soccer. Tate was so excited about his new uniform that he hadn't taken it off since he first got it on Tuesday (he's even been sleeping in it).

Given my gimpy hip, I decided not to coach his team this season. It was nice to be able to just relax and watch Tate play. I've never seen a kid who spends more time smiling while he runs around. He had a hard time following the ball because he was too busy grinning--not at us, just at life in general. 

Tate also spends a lot of time falling down (he's learned from his older brother that ending every run with a dive or dramatic roll makes soccer way more fun). 

He did manage to score a goal--it was during a timeout, but he didn't know that and there was need to tell him otherwise--and that made him even happier. 

After all of that running and smiling, he went to bed exhausted--wearing his uniform, of course.

Our Romantic Valentine's Day Adventure

How did the Sutherlands celebrate Valentine's Day? With a trip to the monster truck show, of course.

Traci had to work today, so I figured the best thing for me to do was to take the boys to Monster Jam at the Energy Solutions Arena. Though Paige made it very clear that she does not like monster trucks, she agreed to go as well.

Family Photo Fiasco

Not pictured: Curtis

Is there anything worse than family picture day?

Spoiler alert: No.

Here's a quick recap of this year's attempt:

• Traci spends at least a week trying to put together the perfect combination of coordinated clothing
• We're late to the location because Curtis and Tate both refuse to wear those clothes
• Traci is flustered and frustrated with our obstinate children
• Curtis is only willing to be in the picture if he can stand behind me and is only willing to poke about an inch of his forehead over my shoulder
• Tate will be in the picture, but he refuses to smile
• Paige has the flu and -- despite being a total trooper -- can barely summon the strength for a smile
• After about five minutes, I'm willing to give up on the whole thing, because now Curtis is refusing to be in the picture at all
• For one fleeting moment, everyone stands in the same place at the same time. Neither of the boys will smile or say "cheese," but they are willing to burp in unison. Fortunately, with no sound, a burp kind of looks like a smile.

It was an awful, awful evening. And we'll always have a picture to remember it. 

(A huge thank you to our very, very patient photographer. Please accept our apologies.)

Back to School

The kids have survived their first week of school (and Traci survived another summer with the kids - barely).

Paige is a big third grader. Basically running the school.

Curtis has made the big move from Kindergarten to first grade, which means all day at school, navigating the lunch line, and getting three recesses (Paige spent all last year telling Curtis how sweet it is to have three recesses!) 

Even Tate will be a school kid soon. He met his preschool teacher this week and will become an official big kid next week. Until then, he's been running the house all by himself.

"Tate," I said. "Do you miss Paige and Curtis when they're at school?"

"No," he said flatly. Then he told me to get out of the way so he could keep playing Punch-Out on the Wii.

Family life.

The Annual St. George Trip

Salt Lake City summer in August, with its blazing sun and rising Mercury, means one thing: Time for an escape to even hotter St. George.

It's what we do.

The vacation was filled with the usual St. George stuff - swimming, an evening at Fiesta Fun, a trip (for Paige and Traci) to Tuacahn to see Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, cooling down at the splash pad, and a bunch more swimming.

And we even got in a little education, with a trip to Frontier Homestead State Park in Cedar City on the way there.

Still struggling with the effects of strep throat, I skipped out on some of the fun to hang out in the InstaCare. (It wasn't all bad; I got to speak some rusty Dutch to a vacationing Rotterdam family visiting Zion. Plus I got some throat medicine that was almost exactly like swallowing hand sanitizer. Dee-lish.)

Traci's parents are very kind to let us stay in their condo. My little family stays in one bedroom. It works out nice because it has a walk-in closet. When Tate was a baby, we would just put him in the pack 'n play, stick in the closet, and we'd all sleep peacefully. When he started walking and talking we just told him it was his "St. George bed in his St. George room." He thought that was pretty cool.

Until this time.

"Dad," he said, "Why is my St. George bed a closet?"

"Uh," I stammered. "Because it's awesome?"

That wasn't good enough.

So Traci and I slept on the bed, Curtis and Paige doubled up on a twin-sized air mattress, and Tate lay next to them on the floor. It's amazing how they could sleep that way--at one point, Curtis was lying perpendicular, with his head on Paige's back and his feet across Tate. No one seemed to mind. The next night, Traci noticed that Paige was curled up next to Curtis, using his butt as a pillow. Whatever works, I guess.

I'm not one to say, "Oh, isn't age so-and-so just the cutest?" But I do think I'll miss it when my kids are too old to think sleeping on an air mattress on the floor is the best thing that could ever happen to them.

Hooray for vacation.