wild*life

My dearest Jacob,

It’s November and I’ve let the timing of my annual letter get away from me.  As you would say, at least ten times a day…  My bad.  I find it daunting to roll-up all of your life into a neat little birthday blog.  I don’t even know… I can make your hands clap.  This year I’m inspired to describe middle school Jacob with the current eighth grade vocab of the day, as indicated in italicized bold.

At thirteen, you’re more than half way through middle school.  I’m fairly certain no one has ever said this about a middle schooler but it’s absolutely true– it’s made you even better.  Rather than turning into an angsty, hormonal, irritated version of yourself, you’ve mellowed out.  I mean don’t get me wrong, your eyes still roll regularly.  You have your annoyed outbursts.  And I am a reliable source of laughable moments, like recently, when I discovered there is hot sauce at Taco Bell called Diablo Sauce… explaining the name of last year’s soccer team.  Brah.  It’s amazing I can even function in the world.  That’s cap.  But when you snap at me you always apologize and are quick with a sincere hug.

From seventh to eighth grade you’ve shot up.  You were one of the smallest guys on your soccer team last year, but that’s no longer the case.  I’m pretty certain we’re currently dead even in height and I’m about to fall from second to third place.  You’re a real string bean.  And a bottomless pit. You tell me, “I’m so hungy, Mom.”  In five minutes you can inhale $32 in grocery store sushi if I’m not fiscally vigilant.  I have to carefully manage our supplies of kettle chips, ginger ale, and premium ice cream as they call to you day and night.  Facts.  

About 3 months ago you got your Invisalign.  I was a bit worried about “removable braces” and the element of taking them in and out every time you eat and drink.  Your fingernails have never looked better.  You even remember to change your trays on Tuesday nights without any help.  Goodness knows it’s never crossed my mind.  I just came up with the idea to call it Toothsday.  Cue teenage lame sigh.  Síííííííííííí.

And speaking of food, the latest Jakery Cakery has been particularly prolific.  You’ve made several dozen gluten free chocolate chip cookies, adjusting the recipe till you get it just right.  You also made a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting decorated with raspberries.  Mrs. Carlin from Home Ec would be impressed.  Everything has turned out boatloads better than the ill-conceived zucchini panini of last year.  Now you have your sights set on recreating Duke’s ice cream hula pie and learning a family staple, Texas Sheet Cake.  Nate is thoroughly supportive, Suey.

You’ve been playing AYSO and your Inflation team has done well.  This year you’ve had a couple of games where you scored two goals in a game which has boosted your confidence… though sometimes you run your mouth more than your feet.  Your games are on Wednesday nights at 7PM which means freezing cold spectating and dinner from a bag.  Just chill, Mom.  Just chill.  Literally.

Your other favorite form of exercise is your Oculus VR headset.  Flipping Zuckerberg.  But in all seriousness, you lost at least ten pounds during the pandemic playing gorilla tag.  It’s insane.  You might as well be doing a kickboxing class you’re so sweaty.  You’re also super humble to the players on the other end of the metaverse– only exclaiming “I’m so goated” like fifty times a session.  I scold you for telling strangers to “Be better.”  It’s having little effect.  You’ve had to move VR to your room since we’ve set-up life in the barn… too much furniture impeding your virtual talents.  I’m not sure what your favorite game is right now, but I do know that I don’t have to yell, “Don’t hit me, don’t hit me” every time I try to cross the living room.  No cap.

You’ve taken schoolwork very seriously this year and are excelling in all of your classes.  Every Monday morning I get a text with your grades and I’ve lost count of your straight A streak.  Miss Mooney has transitioned from your seventh grade math teacher to your eighth grade yearbook teacher.  She’s still your fave.  You recently told me that if you want to get good grades, you have to give the teacher what they want.  I’m relieved you’re thirteen and have figured this out on your own.  Some people never figure this out over their entire working lives.  I got a very sincere snort of laughter when I texted you all your A’s, including two A+’s, with the preface: You’re so goated with the sauce.  Yo, I can hang.

You’ve made so many friends over the last year and a half I can’t even count them on two hands.  You call them Da Boyz.  Plus Izzy.  Izzy is Brady’s longterm girlfriend and we’ve all gotten to enjoy Brady’s mom’s stories.  We also appreciate the stories of Santiago and his revolving door of girlfriends.  The years when you didn’t want to go to Farmer’s have now been replaced with a desire to hang at Farmer’s with your friends so you can eat and visit Captain Nemo’s.  One time we went to said establishment to look at War Hammer paints and I had kind of a backpack purse on.  The guy behind the counter wanted me to put my backpack on the counter to prevent shoplifting and I was like, “Don’t you worry, there is nothing in this store that I want.”  Bruv.  Which totally came out unintentionally sincere and intolerably rude.  I’m just really allergic to windowless Dungeons and Dragons stores– they don’t bring out the best in me.  To your credit you didn’t pretend not to know me.

You have become such an important and reliable partner to me in so many ways.  You are quick to help out.  If I need a pep talk, you’ve got it nailed.  And I’ve finally reached my decades long dream of breezing through an airport while my sons lug my luggage.

I love you JJ.  You are growing into the most amazing version of yourself.  Funny, creative, smart, and hard working.  You do be amazing.  And so humble 😉  In all seriousness, I couldn’t be prouder of you.

Muchas smoochas,
Mom

Yesterday we drove down to Santa Maria for our second to last CCU game of the season.  They’re at the bottom of the table and we’re at the top, so it was shaping-up to be a confidence-boosting start to the weekend.  Our initial goal of the game was Nate’s very first header goal.  It was a beaut.  Just a nice redirection off a perfectly placed cross from Eliot.

Only our Veo video cam can remember everything that happened after that.  Nate scored four more goals and had the assist on our fifth.  His only slip was missing the PK after a foul that took him down for longer than usual.  We won 6-0.  After the game I headed over to the head ref for the final match report and he says, “Man that #8.  What a player.  And quiet, too.”  Nate left the field kind of grumpy… he wanted a double hat trick.  Sheesh.  We celebrated the win by heading straight to the Chick-fil-A for spicy sandwiches, hold the hateful belief system.

The real challenge was scheduled for today at our home field.  Mustangs versus the Santa Barbara foul-mouthed, time-wasting, magic water carrying, elbow-throwing, switching cleats while on the field playing, fouling floppers.  We managed to lose against them a few weeks ago during the most outlandish game I’ve ever watched.  They theatrically claimed over 9 “injuries” while laying flat on their backs, running down the clock, having their coach pour magic water on their legs, and wasting over 10 minutes.  We knew today’s game would be fierce.

We started out strong and Nate was fouled in the box early.  Second PK of the weekend.  What did we learn yesterday?  Blast it hard and low.  Check.  We’re up 1-0.  Then the floppers equalize.  Nooo!  It’s 1-1 at the half.

Second half we’re on our heels.  But then there’s a great combo on the left side from Cruz to Nate to Cruz— he crosses it and bam, Colin scores.  The crowd goes wild.

But it all comes crashing down again a bit later when they score a long rainbow shot from the left side into the back right side of the net.  They get several corner kicks and we all experience multiple moments of heart failure and the loss of our fingernails.  Spanner has the save of the season with a long left-handed dive and reach that deflects the ball at the last moment.

We’re tied 2-2 and running out of time.  We’ve already won the league, but this game still matters.  Nate gets a beautiful breakaway and jukes just a split-second too late as their goalie comes careening in for a solid save.  Some things happen, time is running short, they foul Noah just outside the box.  Nate’s up again for the free kick.  He hears Ben tell him to get his shoulder over the ball and to blast it.  His shot goes straight past the wall and directly into the back of the net.  The crowd goes wild.  Again.

Nate comes sprinting back in victory to a crowd of hugs.  Tweet, tweet, tweee-eet.  Mustangs win the season, and the day.

After the game Nate falls down flat on the ground, surrounded by all his teammates.  He notices just in time before his coach tries to Gatorade him with water and only douses the back of his shirt.

So proud of this kid.  Still almost a full year younger than the rest of his team and playing with both his head and his heart.  Shut them up and shut them down.

They must have accidentally sprayed us with that magic water.

About a week ago we were all driving in the car and Jacob says,

“Remember that time when Nate was little and he was like,

‘I want to go to all the lands…

Disneyland.

Legoland.

Yogurtland.'”

It’s hard to believe we’ve been avid participants in the youth sports world for at least a decade.  I started Jake at Off the Wall soccer when he was only about a year and a half old.  He just ran around where the coach pointed.  I was like, “Yeah, he doesn’t know colors.  Or numbers.  Or English.”

When he was probably about four he “played” on his first soccer team with the Jaguars.  Yes played is in quotes because I mostly remember him resisting the idea of playing or going on the field or kicking the ball.  It’s been nothing but up since the Jaguars and we’ve been proud fans across so many sports and teams that I’ve certainly lost count.

We’ve played baseball with the Riverdogs, the Scrappers, the Yankees, the Hooks, Cal Poly Red, and the Tigers.  We’ve played basketball for the LA Lakers and the Utah Jazz.  And of course flag football for the Georgia Bulldogs and the Kansas City Chiefs.  Nate’s played soccer for both Bayern Munich and Real Madrid, just this year.  Leading up to such esteemed teams the boys have played for the Awesome Panthers, the Gray Ghosts, the Stars, the Raptors, the Legends, the Mustangs, and the Lancers.

Last year, Jacob’s soccer team was called Diablo Sauce.  It was quite a mouthful.  I found “Go Sauce!” to be the most effective cheer.  Jacob’s coach was also the coach for one of the Raptors arch rivals– a team called the Unripe Tomah-toes (said with an Australian accent).  Their jerseys were green… with envy when we beat them.  HA.  I think this particular coach prides himself in having teams with memorable names.

I came back from this year’s BOLD conference to find Nate’s team had chosen “FBI” as our name.  Which was a bit unusual until I asked what Jake’s team was called and they told me… wait for it…

Inflation.

“What?”

And Coach tells me, “I told them to pick a name that strikes fear into the hearts of their opponents.”

We just got home from the finale of our first CCU tournament of the season.  My throat hurts I’m so horse.  Get it, we’re the mustangs… sheesh tough crowd.  But I totally killed it with my new nickname for the head ref that looks like Colonel Sanders– K Ref C.  I’ll be here all night, folks.

So yesterday we started at Damon against the Lemoore Arsenal Gunners.  Good thing they were about as consistent as the real Arsenal and we won 5-2.  According to my handy dandy score keeping sheet for Nate’s future glory day reliving, he scored 2 goals, took 4 shots, and had 5 heart-stopping saves of various flavors as goalie for the entire second half.

Our second game was up against Kings County 10B Orange out at Cuesta at approximately dinner time.  This is generally not our team’s best time of day.  We were down 3-0 and made it 3-1 at the half.  We battled back and tied 3-3.  Nate had one goal, an assist, and 3 shots.

This morning we woke up bright and early so Jacob could work his 7am minimum wage gig as a field marshal.  It was definitely a more cushy job than manning the Goodwill Donation trailer in the dirt parking lot near school.  He did well given his ride dropped him off 45 minutes late and the ambiguous job responsibilities.  He was especially effective pointing out that the opposing team had two #17’s… and then two number 8’s.

Our first game was up against Davis Legacy Black.  This is not the Davis Legacy to be scared of; I think that’s the white one.  In any case, we won 4-0 and Nate had a hat trick.  Looks like he made all his shots.

Then hours and hours went by, we fed Nate leftover Panda Express for lunch, we watched Man City almost lose to Newcastle and we had a visit from Ralph, Kili, and Thurman the little Frenchie.  We packed up again and headed back to Damon Mad House Garcia for the finale against California Magic, which appears to be a fancy name for the east bay town of Orinda.

Oh this game.  They score.  We score.  They score.  We score.  It was 2:2 at half.  We go back out and it’s more of the same.  With what seems like 2 minutes left, Nate scores and we’re up 4-3.  It was one of those movie goals where we all gasp and cheer and he does the Ronaldo jump celebration.  Someone asks how they can get his autograph… it’s hilarious and exciting. Nate has his second hat trick of the day, a nice corner kick assist, and a series of memorable free kicks.  And then in this terrible slow motion play, the guy gets past our defense and fires it at our goalie and bam, we’re back to 4-4.  The minutes are ticking down and we’re dreading the dreaded PK’s ending.  Good news, there’s a ten minute overtime.  Bad news, we’re still tied.

And we go to Penalty Kicks.

Eliot starts out as he’s also playing goal.  It sails over the top and he’s pretty devastated.  But then the first Magic guy shoots on him and misses to the right.  We’re back in it.  Nate takes the next PK and makes it top left.  I’m not sure what all happened after that but Beckett makes his shot, Spanner has a beautiful low shot.  And then Noah takes our final shot and makes it and the field erupts into a huge crowd of jumping cheering mustangs.

This afternoon on our way to the game we talk about PK’s.  Nate tells me he really doesn’t like taking them and has only made 1 of 5 he’s taken.  I’m not sure this is true but who knows?  What I do know is it’s all in his head.  He tells me when he’s practicing with his friends it’s so easy.

Today Nate faced his fear– volunteered to take the PK– and changed his confidence.  That just might be the best prize of all.

On Tuesday I took Jacob to Dr. Lindsey’s to get his braces on.  I stand corrected, his Invisilign.  Only eighth graders in the ’20’s would have the option to unapologetically wear masks covering half their faces and have the option of clear teeth straightening.  It’s so unfair.

As I took him in to sit in the chair I most certainly declared, “I remember the day I got my braces on and it was one of the worst days of my life.”   I still stand by that statement.  I remember Dr. Matlack’s teenage teeth straightening factory.  And I remember him gluing the torture devices to my teeth toward the end of sixth grade so my dad didn’t lose his flexible spending account dollars.  Eye roll.  That night we went to Chinese food and I couldn’t even chew a grain of rice.  A grain of rice!  I was hangry and miserable and I let everyone know it.

Meanwhile the boys were at Kennolyn all of last week and Nate nonchalantly mentions how he lost a tooth.  Oh and Jake did, too.  Nate was smart enough to guard his lost tooth, combine it with two more that have been in a drawer, and was rewarded with a crisp 5 bucks from the fairy.  Jacob doesn’t know what happened to his tooth.

He thinks he spit his final loose tooth into the dirt.

In August of 2010 I made this list of goals:

1. With James, raise outstanding children.
2. Travel the world.
3. Build a house.
4. Own a business.
5. Give back.

I just left the county building with my arms filled with a huge pile of approved plans and after countless years, an official building permit.

I got into my car, rolled down the windows, and pulled out onto the street.  Mr. Jones started playing as if on queue.  I turned it up loud, let the tears run down my face, and drank it in.

Is it a problem when you’re getting dressed and you find yourself thinking, “Have I had this shirt longer than I’ve had Jacob?

Looks like I’ve answered my own question.

The topic of girls remains taboo in this house.  I’m fairly certain 51% of the world either doesn’t exist or is invisible, not unlike the rollback of our rights by 50 years.  But I digress… I’d never put my sons anywhere near that extremist club.

So girls are an unthinkable topic that of course I love to poke at on occasion.  A few months back I pressed it a bit with Nate and he whipped around snarling, “Well I’m not gay.”  Which I made abundantly clear is totally OK, more than OK, and that our family accepts whoever you love and makes you feel loved.

Today I’m pretty surprised when I pick Nate up at College for Kids and we’re still waiting for Jake.  Nate’s in the backseat and he says, “Mom, there’s this girl in my cooking class.”

“Oh yeah?”  I say casually.  Mentally rubbing my hands together in giddy anticipation.

“She smells like poop.  It’s teeeeerrible.  And she sits right behind me.”

There it is.  The girl talk I’m used to.

I recently watched a home design video professing the importance of a pantry to a well-run household and thus familial bliss.  I’m pretty certain Jacob-the-Bottomless-Pit would agree.

At the Park house we put a pantry cupboard in our laundry room when we renovated the kitchen.  We don’t have any pantry memories from that house as Jake was still on a liquid diet.  On Shasta we had one particular cupboard behind Nate’s high chair next to the dining room.  Basically there was a lot of milling around this cupboard, pointing and attempting to reach the out-of-reach latch that was probably only 3 feet high.  The boys were always picketing and protesting in front of this cupboard.  It’s where we kept the cookies.

Then we moved to the mountain house and the boys quickly mastered the power of moving chairs.  I put the major contraband as high as I could, but this strategy had a short lifespan.  We’d reached the point where you hope all the nutritional training on health and savoring would start to pay off.  At some point I’m hoping they go off to college and aren’t those kids only eating mountains of buttered noodles and cookies.

Now we’ve moved into the barn and it’s the closest thing we’ve ever had to a real pantry.  A wall of shelves with mostly food at eye level.  The challenge is that if there is any Bundaberg ginger beer, Jacob just can’t resist it.  It’s constantly evaporating, evidenced only by the recycling bin.  We’re talking about this over dinner and I’m like, “I can’t buy ice cream and Bundaberg every week because no one can resist it.  My options are to not buy it.  Lock it up.  Or hide it.  I have no other options.”

“Or you can just buy more,” counters Jacob.

I honestly had not considered that.  Sometimes I miss the power of a 3-foot cupboard latch.