tosabarbell

Block; Post; Whip; Drive; Orbit; Stretch; Right side: Finish; Eyes, what do all of these throwing cue’s have in common?

They’re not step 1.

And that’s the crux of being a new thrower. Oh sure, we may be older and have athletic backgrounds. Maybe even have competed in other sports for years. But throwing? An entirely new beast. And the biggest thing I’ve learned out of my whole whoppin’ two seasons is this: advice will be free; it will be plentiful, and in many cases, it will be wrong.

Imagine this: you are new to squatting. Sure, you’ve seen many different styles but this is your first time under the bar and there are plenty of bro’s to help you through it. Best piece of advice? “Dude, at the very end, snap your knees back and your hips through or it’s not finished.” 

Dude. Srsly.

At the end? THE END? But…the rep’s about done? How many ways did I fuck things up from getting under the bar; unracking; stepping back, and actually squatting the stupid thing. 100? Yes. 100. (Maybe not 100, but 10? Yes, 10.) Cuz you just cued (incorrectly) step 11. And if steps 1-10 don’t go well, step 11 won’t mean shit.

True story.

See, unless you’ve been throwing for years, step 11 isn’t as helpful as STEP 1!!! DUHHHHHHH!!!!

The cues you get may be the easiest for your throwing “bro” to see but not necessarily the best for you. The first time I threw the hammer, the word “orbit” was repeated at least 4,287 times. FoShizzle. As if the process of repeating it would make it make sense. Finally, Coach Mac pulled me aside and said, “Right hand, right foot.” Ohhhhhhhhh, useful. As we all know, I struggle greatly with this event but after two years guess what? The word “orbit” still means shit to me. There are steps I need to figure out before I worry about it or at the very least figure out HOW to get the ball in the correct orbit. Repeating the word isn’t helpful, telling me how is.

Groundbreaking.

Now, before I hear, “Well we’re just trying to be helpful and will never say anything at all so there you’re on your own dudette,” I know. I know every piece of advice is coming from a good place (most of the time.) The wonderful thing about Highland Games is that people want each other to succeed. That is cool. So cool.

But we must understand who we’re talking to. After two years of trying to “block” in stones, I was told that without enough drive or speed, it probably won’t happen. Ummmmmm, duh. I’ve been trying to “slap the giant” or something like that all this time when I could have been focused on gaining speed in a very short space. Now, it could be that those telling me to block assumed I knew this. But see I don’t. Cuz I’m green. A noob. Novice. Don’t-o Know-o Shit-o. Comprendre-o?

Step 1. What is step 1? If you don’t know, then should advice be dispensed? I honestly don’t know. I try to keep my mouth shut during throws unless specifically asked and even then I’m careful with what I say. Cuz I’m new, and I don’t know step 1. This may make me appear unhelpful. Don’t care. The last thing I need is to be telling others what to do in a sport I’m just barely starting to understand on Games day when we have no coaching/athlete relationship to begin with.

If I see something happening in others good throws (*COUGHkatieandluke*COUGH) I’ll usually say, “I see ‘x’ but am not putting it together, advice?” And the good one’s know. A quick, useful cue and then I leave them alone to their throws. At least I try to roll that way.

Also, judges. Often times judges have been around long enough and are throwers themselves. If I’m struggling in an event, the first thing I do is ask the judge, “what do you see?” They are invaluable. In Hawaii, I fouled my first LWD. I asked the judge about it and he simply said, “tighten up the feet. You’ll be fine.” And I was. Flat, but I fixed my feet and on Games day fixing the important stuff is priority. Flat is something I can work on at home.

Step 1…tighten the feet. YaBuddy!

I’m not a mean player. You’ll notice that I never pick on anyone with a number higher than 30.

Mike Ditka

Sunset is a very special time. We can reflect on the day and let it go.

One of the bigger challenges growing up in an adopted Scandihoovian home as a Hawaiian was not having a connection to my heritage…or so I thought. Now, before I go on I need to state some facts for the record. First off, my parents have always made adoption a matter of fact. I feel very fortunate that I don’t have hangups about being abandoned or other issues that I’ve heard from adoptees. I was adopted. That doesn’t make me more, or less, special than anyone else. It’s just how I arrived at this family and I’m so appreciative for their honest and up front communication about it. Mom used to read me a book on adoption, it was one of my favorites for a while but I think I just liked Mom reading me books. True story.

And as much as I honestly LOVE the traditions and beauty of Scandinavian history, I did want my own. The funny thing is, I had some of it instilled in me without even knowing. For instance, we were lucky enough to have an up north Cabin that we would spend months and then weeks at as we got older. The lake is fed by (then) a still clean Mississippi river and you could see at least 20′ down in the clear water. I love it. Some of my favorite memories in life are those from the cabin. From sun up to sun down, I would want to be in the water. Hawaiian. We do love our water. It’s calming. It’s peaceful and I’ve already written about how it is my church when I need grounding.

I also had a (what I thought was) weird thing with stones. I wouldn’t take any pretty agates from Lake Superior if we found them. It annoyed my brother who always looked for agates. I’d find them and wouldn’t tell him about it. Why? Well, the rocks belonged to the lake, right? They weren’t for me to take. I didn’t make them beautiful through years of waves hitting them, the lake did. Hawaiian. Didn’t even know.

Sunrise was my favorite time. People are already in the water and the Island just comes alive each minute.

This carries over to throwing. Working with the implements (even the Hammers, we’re still getting to know each other;) instead of against them. Using good energy that has gone into them. Hawaiian. You can dismiss it all you want, don’t care. It’s meaningful to me and mine to own. So when the opportunity arose to actually go and throw on the Island, I was in.

And the day was incredible. As hard on myself I can be about not throwing better, I have to let it go with the sunset and just take it all in. Our group had so much fun and we flew through the events judged by Jonathon Low who called things very strict and very fair. Exactly what you want from a judge. He also has an excellent coaching eye and was hugely helpful to us throughout the day. It was an absolute blast and I’m so thankful for the experience.

But our Hawaii trip was more than just throwing. I realized at some point on Friday afternoon, while sitting out on our balcony and reading a couple of books I had going that I was more relaxed than I had been in years. Total relaxation. No anxiety. No stress. No expectations. No worries. Just sit on my balcony and read my books. Having the daughter there and her BFF was just as much fun as I thought it would be. Their energy is good and silly and funny always balanced out with some quiet time when they needed it. It also took them about 8 minutes to go “Island” and not worry about anything…

…except sunburns. I’d been given great advice by the Hawaiians I train to hit the beach earlier in the day and then again later. Stay out of the water and sun during the noon-3pm range and we’ll be just fine. When we visited family on Maui years ago, we got so completely fried on day one that we pretty much had to stay out of the water and sun the remainder of the trip. That sucked. Not this time, we were ready. We hit the beach for a while each day in (relatively) small amounts and came away bronzed but not burned. Shweet.

We missed the sunset on Friday having dinner with friends from Texas so our first was Saturday night. I have to say, watching Zandra’s face as the sun went down, seeing her look around and dig her feet in the sand and finally turn to me and say, “I wish I’d grown up here” was a pretty good ‘mom’ moment. She felt it, the Hawaiian in her calling to her heart. It was probably my favorite moment from the entire trip. Watching her get that connection with a heritage that is so far away from what she grew up with. I loved it.

Even though we had grand plans of things we were going to do and see, we didn’t. We hit the beaches constantly; enjoyed both local AND tourist food; lots of MaiTai’s and spent the bulk of our money at the ABC stores grabbing snacks and drinks to go for the beach. I finished one book and am getting through the other. I drank coffee off my balcony and really tried to pack it to bring it home. I eventually realized that this is the Hawaiian vacation I’d always dreamt of. Total relaxation; beach time; sunrise and sunset’s, and just not having to go anywhere. That’s what I wanted and I guess needed and that’s exactly what I got. Special time with the daughter and Mayce and witnessing some of the silliest things I’ve seen between the two of them. No cleaning, no cooking, no dishes, no being overwhelmed with the house, no laundry, no scrubbing, no turning my eyes away from so much to be done around here. Sit. Feel the sun. Swim. Read.

Feel the aloha…and then some.

Onipa’a (stand firm)

Queen Lili’uokalani

As parents, the ONE thing we want to do on our children’s birthdays is to give them a special day. From sun up to sun down, it’s their special day.If they’re twins, they have to share…usually. My Z’s had a set of twins in their class where one was born before midnight, and the other after. Lucky ducks. Although then Mom had to have two consecutive special days so it may be easier to just get’r done.

Anyways.

The Hawaiian tradition is to give a ginormous party on their child’s first birthday. Luau!! Zac and Zandra’s first birthday was a little more subdued but no less festive. A Mickey and Minnie mouse cake, lots of laughter and love and celebrating how special they were. A mother could ask for no less for her children’s birthday’s.

Through the years, there have been many celebrations. New hockey sticks; bikes; a longboard; goalie pads (we could have bought her a car for the amount of money spent on goalie equipment. A nice car!) Many cakes, many celebrations. Much love and laughter celebrating the Z’s special day. Memories flood a mothers heart on days like this and make us so thankful.

But there’s another feeling that keeps crowding in and that’s melancholy. See, it’s easy to celebrate birthdays when children are still young. Some birthday breakfast bacon and a donut; a fun school lunch and bowling party; about a million birthday hugs; balloons; cakes; prizes and finally an exhausted good night hug. Easy.

Things get trickier as kids get older. School sports; school; logistics; jobs (Zandra is very offended that she has to work on her birthday, she has already stated that for the record. Adulting can be a birthday buzzkill.) Also, it could be that your birthday boy is in a tough place and the thought no one is with him to make him feel special, especially on is special day, breaks a mother’s heart. No one there for birthday wake up hugs, no one to take him to birthday lunch or dinner, no  one to make him his birthday bacon. Just another day of survival. It grips my heart and sometimes squeezes tight enough that I have to just breath and step away from it for a minute.

While I am so overjoyed to be able to spoil the birthday girl in spite of unsympathetic bosses and in two days jet she and her BFFandever off to paradise, a huge chunk of my heart is so sad for my boy. Yes, in so many ways he is making his life so hard but that’s not the point of today. Today is his special day and Mom’s not there. All I can do is send the love into the wind, “You are special. You are loved. This is not your destiny. Keep fighting. Never stop fighting. Each day holds a chance to be in a better situation. Seize it! You are loved” and hope the words find his heart.

And I am thankful. Thankful for my “second daughter” who is coming to Hawaii with us who went and picked up a birthday card and birthday cupcakes and brought them over to his place. So he knows. He IS special and this IS his special day. And for that, I am so thankful. Mayce, you da man.

Silence is Golden…unless you have kids. Then silence is just suspicious.

True Story

It is not uncommon to walk outside when Oz is shoveling (or shoveling dog poo) and hear this music. He loves the majestic sounds of Russian orchestra and men’s choirs. And this isn’t new. He’s been playing it for at least five years or so. Sure, the first time I heard it coming from his room, I had to ask, ‘WTF is that dude?’ Ever get looked at by a 10 year old with a look of complete bafflement as to why you don’t understand that they love Russian choir music? Ya, that.

16 hour road trip to Michigan with Oz’s fart noises. Cuz…sure.

Oz has been entertaining us now for 15 years…officially 15 years today. When he came home from the hospital, we went right into “need to throw your twin brother and sister a golden birthday party” mode and he contributed by sleeping right through it (big babies like to sleep. Yeah Oz.) He cried for two nights until I finally put him on my chest to sleep, propped up by about 80 pillows so I wouldn’t roll on him and he’d sleep between each feeding. I remember my sister asking once when he was over a  year old if he were sleeping through the night yet and I’m all, ‘uhhhhhh ya, he’s been doing that since about month one.’ I didn’t mean to be a dick, it just didn’t occur to me that I should be sleep deprived like I was with two preemie twinsers that I was raising on my own.

There are fewer things in life Oz enjoys more than spending time with his brother and sister. See, ever since he was born, he was the Oz Man. Our dear friend Paula gave him his nickname when he was about 45 minutes old and as good nicknames will do, it stuck. Oz loves his Sissy and Zac. His spring break week has been filled with Oz and Sissy time and he’s loved it. He misses his brother but hopefully they’ll be getting together for birthday fun this week.

Multi-tasking

Oz has always marched to the beat of his own drum. Sometimes that’s gotten him ‘WTF’ looks, I’m sure he’ll receive more in life. For the most part, he doesn’t care. Or he doesn’t care enough to go ahead and conform to the norm. Good boy. Unfortunately, his wearing of the BDU’s has come to an end. He’s too big. He’s moved on to Duluth Trading company and luckily there’s one right down the street from his house in Minnesota. He bought himself a Levi’s jacket at Kohl’s the other day and I have to say, it’s pretty stylin’. There are few things you’ll talk him into if he has his mind set to something else (NO idea where he get’s that! It’s so ANNOYING!) Lucky for us, his choices are still on the good side and he’s only had the cops called on him when he’s looking for treasure in the woods behind his Dad’s house (multiple times. Ya, I know it looks like an adult is wandering through the woods. But he’s a kid. Just like the cops have told you three times now.) The first time the cops showed up with guns drawn through his Dad’s back yard. Luckily by then Oz was downstairs playing video games.

Oz has always been a deep thinker. Years ago in Texas he was very pensive as we were driving home from running errands and I asked him what was up. He replied that he just didn’t know if, when he grows up, he should smoke a pipe or cigars. I told him that those things will figure themselves out and not to stress about it. He visibly looked relieved. (By the way now that he see’s that his favorite thrower, Ross Bunchek, is a pipe smoker I do believe that issue has been decided.) Heh.

Not surprisingly, I’m not going to whine about my “baby” growing up too fast. A) He’s not a baby, hasn’t been from about 7 months or so. (Carrying him in the car seat gave me carpal tunnel for a couple of years. I’ve never been so happy to see a kid walk in all my life.) B. I’m honored to have him grow up into a young man. We know children who weren’t able to do that. And I’m so very thankful that another birthday is here with all of my children still winning.

But today is Oz’s day and we’re off for French Toast. And then he and Sissy are hot stepping it to the new Fast/Furious movie. And then we’re meeting them with friends at Laser tag adventures. And then food. Geez, I need more coffee.

Happy Birthday Oz. I’m incredibly proud of you. You roll with the punches of life and are able to quote Monty Python while doing it. Well done.

Gaiety is the most outstanding feature of the Soviet Union.

Joseph Stalin