Blessings are flying at us so hard right now, I'm tempted to pinch myself to see if I'm awake. Some I need to keep under my hat right now, some I can share.

My little guy qualified for speech three times a week through the school system.

I was suspicious. I used to work for the public schools and I know at this time of the year, resources are often thin and slots for new kids far between. I figured that the speech therapist would take her time getting our intake done, then put him into speech groups three times a week, groups of course being the least effective method of treating articulation disorders.

I couldn't have been more wrong. Less than six hours after gathering all of the requisite documents to register him for "school" (why can't the county agencies document share?) and filling out a ream of mostly redundant or unnecessary paperwork, the speech therapist called. She's recently dropped two children from groups and can begin to see us immediately. As in tomorrow.

Oh, and he'll be seen individually all three days.

Hi Heather and Sarah,

As I mentioned in my phone call to you, Heather - just wanted to let you know that we will be airing your story on Wednesday evening at 5:44pm on 90.7fm. Out-of-towners can hear it live on www.wmfe.org or listen to an archived version on Thursday morning or after at www.wmfe.org/storycorps. This was a difficult piece to produce because there was so much to say in such a short time (and so many powerful moments in your discussion). No easy task to cut it down but I can promise I did my best by you : )

Regards,
Katie Ball
Independent ProducerCentral Florida StoryCorps

The best. dump truck. ever.

Chosen to pull the half hour steam whistles. They were certainly loud.

I dropped the photograpic ball after the dance. If I'm honest, I'll tell you that my Cannon A95 is hoplessly outdated and not able to keep up with the shutter speed needed to get halfway decent pics of my kids on the field (Note to family and friends. I have no shame .I'm using the blog as a forum to fish for you to team up and buy me something cute and techie (with a zoom lens) for my birthday! Early would be okay, too, as round two of the Region cup fast approaches). Editorial comments aside, credit to team mom Tess for her fab photoof the TQ in action.

Because of the dance, my dh and I missed my son's first round game. The report came in. They got skunked. The other team (a nationally ranked A team versus our B leauge champs) literally ran circles around them. My son gave up almost as many goals in that game than he did all of the last season. He was pretty beat up and upset.

The team had to be on the field early the next morning for thier next game. Most of the boys were tired and still pouting over their loss the night before (these boys rarely lose). Their effort was lackluster and it showed in their 1-0 loss.

Sunday, something changed. While they now had no chance of making the semifinals, they rallied and won a very close and hard fought game, 3-2.

So why am I so proud of my son?

--Friday night was a good reminder that his team needs to be challenged to get better. Very little is learned by winning all the time. His team needs to move up and work this hard every week, not just rest on their laurels while dominating the B leauge. Friday night also reminded him that it takes an entire team to win, not just the efforts of one person. He may have felt like the goals allowed were all his fault, but his defense wasn't there for him.

--Saturday, the coach was upset with the boys, not because they lost, but because their heart wasn't in the game after Friday's defeat. My son was one of four boys on the roster who was recognized for not giving up and fighting through the whole game. I know this is a child who struggles with putting in maximum effort (he was the child who had to be nudged out of recreational ball and into competitive, as he was afraid it'd be "too hard and too much work"). Hearing this made me rejoice in the way the Lord is growing him in this area.

--This is also my child who hates being out of his comfort zone. However, he's grown as a player this year, and after the first half of the second game, the coach put the 2nd keeper in and put him on defensive wing to strengthen the line. He hung in there and performed well in a high-pressure situation, despite it not being his favored position to play.

On to the TQ. They tied one (a well matched game), they lost one (probably the result of another flat effort) and they dominated their last match from the first moment of play. They had a slim bid at the semifinal wildcard, but didn't get it.

So why so proud?

We don't talk about it much, but our last season with the local team was very rough on the TQ. She was pigenholed by a very rigid coach who only allowed her to train and play as a keeper, then criticized her skills when she was on the field (all of three minutes during the season). He also tore down her former (much beloved) coach in Arizona.

Needless to say, we switched teams and clubs this season, but there was damage to repair. She lacked confidence on the field and her skills were behind the other girls. She spent most of her time in the box or on the bench.

She continued to work hard, even practicing with her brother's club when her own club was off, and by the time the team came up for the first round of the Region Cup, she had gained the trust of her coaching staff.

For the first time in a year, I saw my daughter on the soccer field, playing like she loved the game and it loved her. She was back in a big way.

During their last rout, there was a particularly rabid soccer dad (from the other team!) on the sidelines (heck, he was so close that he was almost on the field). He was LOUD and pretty obnoxious.

I fell in love with him for a moment.

He kept screaming things like "WATCH NUMBER 16!! WATCH HER!". Then he'd turn to the other parents and say "She's tall and knows how to use her height. She's fast. She's watching the game ALL THE TIME and she's playing smart."

Yeah, that's my girl. Welcome home, soccer diva.

Her hot date. What a cad...would you believe he came with the blonde but hit on the redhead who was tending the "bar"?

She's got her goodie bag from the candy bar next to her here and is making a bracelet. I love how this picture shows her 'do. I put so much stuff in it that it could hold up to a wind tunnel.

The PTA Possee aka Dance Committe Extraordinare celebrating after breakdown. I'm in the back row to the right of the photo.

You Are a Cappuccino

You're fun, outgoing, and you love to try anything new. However, you tend to have strong opinions on what you like. You are a total girly girly at heart - and prefer your coffee with good conversation. You're the type that seems complex to outsiders, but in reality, you are easy to please

I forgot to mention that my checkup was physically and emotionally exhausting, but completely sarcoma-free. My adventures for the day included:

--Getting caught in a huge traffic jam on the interstate. Trust me, as much as I've driven to Moffitt, I've got it timed to the minute, and my one hour, fifteen minute drive turned into a full two hour commute.

--Dashing upstairs to Radiology to get my contrast and go through the usual motions of being "polite but very firm" about getting my hep lock before I started drinking the (ugh) contrast laced Crystal Light. The IV only took two sticks--hooray, but they had to put in a smaller gauge needle than was desirable.

--The lab receptionist jumping up and hugging me when I was able to tell her, "No, Kathy, I DON'T have a port anymore."

--The man next to me in Radiology sharing (out of the blue) about his rare form of Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. He has been battling for 8 years and 5 rounds of chemo, and his remissions keep getting shorter. He was so sad and matter-of-fact when he told me "I think I'm on my way out. I don't really want the bone-marrow transplant they're pushing on me". I didn't have time to do more than listen to him before his name was called for his test. I'm praying that he just needed someone to listen to him, and that it brought him some comfort that day.

--The lab was late with my Creataine level, requiring the Radiolgy people needing more blood to do a rapid test before the CT. The lab came through at the same time as the rapid test--not that it mattered, as three of the CT machines (including the one I was scheduled for) went down with a computer virus at the same time. Back to the waiting room...

--The automatic voice in the CT machiene had been reprogrammed from my last scan. It is now a veddy veddy proper British man requesting that one "Take a deep inhale and hold your breath"...then commanding that "You may carry on breathing". Do you know how hard it is to hold your breath when you want to giggle?

--The CT snafu made me late to clinic. It was nice to see the MA and my favorite receptionist, Margie...both asked about the kids and complimented the slowly returning 'do. Margie made me promise to come back by and give her the scoop after the checkup.

--I saw the new oncologist about an hour and a half after my scheduled appoinment. This is not unusual. He's nice, but I miss Dr. D'A....we just have more history together, and she doesn't have a thick Italian accent to navigate. Emory is lucky to have her.

--I stopped in Plant City on the way home and grabbed a flat of strawberries. It was only after I had devoured a pint of them did I realize that I'd been fasting since 7 that morning and was really, really hungry. Next stop, some protein.

By the time I got home, I was ready for the couch and a hot bath. Hooray for a family content with leftovers for dinner.

I thought the emotional hangover was done. I dragged myself out of bed this morning and headed out to the mall to return some pants for my little guy. We walked around, grabbed a coffee, played in the play area, and then exchanged the pants. After all this was accomplished, we hit the family bathroom, where I glanced in the mirror and noticed that I'd been wearing my sunglasses. Indoors. All morning.

I wonder if people thought I was a celebrity mom gone slumming or just a really big dork.

At least I'm a cancer-free dork.

My Princess is gearing up for a Father-Daughter Dance to be held the week of Valentine's Day.

Finding nothing suitable in her closet and not much at the mall, we picked this online. It arrived at our house yesterday.

As she swooshed around the house in her crinkly crinolined glory, my little one followed her.

"Oh, H!", he exclaimed, "You look yike a CRIN-CESS!".

He's learning fast.