The Sporting Group

Winter in Iowa can really be brutal. 

I'm not talking about the weather, specifically, but more the lifestyle we're forced to endure as we live weeks or even months trapped inside our homes watching the same television programs and playing with the same toys.  And breathing the same air... a real feat considering the toxic output my boys produce on a daily basis.

When you have kids like mine that have no tolerance for extreme heat or cold, it means that outside play in July lasts 20 minutes and play in January lasts less than ten.  Ten minutes, unfortunately, is only a fraction of the time it takes to don four layers and two pairs of socks, squeeze into snowpants, zip up his coat, remove the coat, snowpants and layers to pee, put layers and snowpants back on, zip up the coat and finish up with boots, gloves, a hat and the kitchen sink.

It's just not worth it for five minutes of tripping over his own feet.

Instead, we've been trying to entertain ourselves by getting out of the house whenever possible, taking advantage of opportunities and events that might not normally capture our attention.  Rather than returning to the Children's Museum and repainting the facial hair on Cael and Graham's faces, we have attended a handful of high school basketball games at Joel's school.


I should mention that I am NOT a sports person.  I embarrassed myself played volleyball in junior high for one year until I decided that the best way I could support my team and my school was stay at home and eat ramen noodles.  So my ineptitude with athletics has left me the odd nerd out in my house full of boys that jumped at the chance to watch a bunch of sweaty people run back and forth across the floor.

The first time we went, Cael and Graham found more enjoyment in watching the pep band blast tunes when the team wasn't actively playing.  My boys aren't able to be inactive, however, and were in constant motion as they danced, jumped and wiggled around the bleachers.

Cael busted out his best moves.

Graham ate popcorn off of the floor.

I checked Facebook on my phone.

Joel cheered us all on.

When the music would stop, they would both freeze like they'd been caught with one hand in the proverbial cookie jar, only to quickly resume their hip-swaying and bootie-shaking when the music started up again.  They danced until they were wet with sweat and collapsed in their beds when we returned home that night, only to dream about basketballs, popcorn and 24 hour dance marathons.



I dreamed about Ramen noodles.

Knowing how much fun the boys had that night, we knew they would jump at the chance to attend another basketball game and spend some additional time with Daddy who was supervising the game.  They were initially disappointed by the absent pep band but quickly found their niche as ropeless climbers of the uneven bleacher terrain.  They searched for bears and howled when the noisy buzzer sounded.  And although they didn't watch one second of the game, they still had a wonderful time.

Cael peed every five minutes.

Graham ran around shirtless.

I played Temple Run and nursed a Diet Pepsi.

And Joel?  Joel drew mustaches on the boys.

I give up... just like I did with volleyball.  Where are the noodles?