My boys have never been ones to do anything in a quick and efficient manner, as is the life of kids, I’d guess.  As any parent can attest to, it can be pretty annoying, and by pretty annoying, I mean REALLY FREAKING ANNOYING.  Just last night I noted that it took 45 minutes from the time they headed up to their rooms to the time they were actually in bed, and all they had to do was brush their teeth and put on their pajamas. 

This translated to sports as well, especially with Preston.  He’d barely jog during soccer, staying out of the chaos.  He’d walk from the dugout to the tee in tee-ball, and at best jog around the bases.  Matt, on the other hand, wasn’t totally lacking hustle, but he is slow.  Or more accurately, tentative.  Yesterday at soccer practice he was easily the last of the 10 kids to finish his dribbling drills, mostly because he seemed so concerned with keeping control of the ball while the other kids flew through like nobody’s business.  I’m sure if he’d gone half as quickly as them he’d have done just as well keeping possession, but he worries about messing up.  Not sure why, really.  If he messes up we encourage him to keep trying.  He just gets frustrated.

What struck me as most impressive and filled me with pride was the fact that he was flat-out hustling in all the drills.  As much as the other kids were outpacing him in the dribbling drills, he was out-hustling them and then some everywhere else.  He listened, he worked hard, and he stayed focused and concentrated on what he was doing, whether tending goal, doing kicking drills, retrieving soccer balls, or practicing throw-ins.  It was really neat to watch.

By the end of practice he was sweaty and tired.  His toe hurt and he limped to the car.  He sat in the trunk while I removed his shoes and socks and shinguards.  On the way home he wolfed down a bag of fries from McDonald’s and picked at his now-broken toenail. 

He’s getting so big.  My boy.

Wednesday morning the little man goes in for his very first surgery.  A couple months ago he had abdominal pain that was diagnosed as constipation, got his very first enema (and there I was without a camera) and sent home, only to return the following day with the more definite appendicitis diagnosis.  For their misdiagnosis, the hospital gave us a free weekend in one of their finest rooms, complete with iCarly and Spongebob up the freaking ying-yang, not to mention a chair that made your back feel like ying-yang after “sleeping” on it.

The deal with little kids, it seems, is that unless it’s an emergency situation, they work to clear the infection first and only then do they remove the appendix, usually about six weeks or so later.  Yeah, I thought it was weird too, but I’m not a doctor, nor did I stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night.

So we went with that, assured that we could vacation and play and whine and cry and… wait… We went with that and were assured that our summer plans wouldn’t be squashed by his rogue appendix and thus far all has been well.  We had a blast in Chicago.  The boys loved the weekend we spent on the beaches of west Michigan, and we all got through the end of tee-ball season and the start of soccer season (so far).  In two days time my son will be recovering in a way his dad never has, and here’s to hoping he always has that on me, for I’ve never had any kind of surgery, nor do I wish to.

That sound you hear is me knocking on wood.  A little for myself; a lot for my son.  We’re all a little nervous, as you can imagine.

By the way, I’m so totally going to Zingerman’s this week/end.

7:00 this morning, or thereabouts, I officially turned 38 years old.  Normally I’d take this day off work and waste it at home doing nothing but we spent last weekend at the beach, which made me feel guilty about taking this day off.  Also, my son’s having his appendix removed in a couple of weeks, which brings with it a couple more days off of work.  So here I am, close to heading home, and I’m okay with that.  Inevitably after an uneventful day such as Father’s Day or my birthday, I can’t help but think I wasted it.  Not today, though, even if I did forget to send that broken DVR to Directv, which @pgoodness will thankfully do for me later.

I had my free Starbucks coffee today, and the nice ladies at the Dearborn, Michigan location on Michigan Avenue were surprised I didn’t want a latte or whatever the hell you freaks drink.  “Venti Pike” was my order, same as every other day.  I treated myself to a breakfast sandwich as well.  After I leave work in a few minutes I’ll stop at Merchant’s Fine Wine and grab a six-pack of Goose Island Summertime, which is flavorful without aftertaste, which is unusual, pleasant and refreshing.  The Outback Steakhouse disaster from Monday night will be quashed as I grill my own steak and park my ass on the deck for the evening.  Hell, I might even pick up a cigar on the way home for fun.

I’ve gotten a boatload of happy birthday wishes today and am completely overwhelmed by it all.  I’m pretty sure they started while I was fast asleep last night even, and have continued all day long via Facebook and Twitter, with good tidings coming from all corners of the continent it seems.  Social Media is a pretty awesome thing, what with people chatting while 35,000 feet over this great state of mine, to an incredible young boy named Tanner getting a ton of donations so he can live the rest of his life outside of a soulless hospital room. 

So cheers to me, Coop, Cam, Jenn, Barack (!), Satchmo, and everyone else celebrating this fine day.  Be excellent, everyone.

And if you want to give something to me or anyone else whose birthday is today, give to Tanner, here.  You can’t go wrong with that gift.

My oldest son is two years into his soccer career, has a year of tee ball under his belt, and is currently in the Kid Kwan Do class at the rec center.  In his first year of soccer he was very tentative and relatively ineffective, although, everybody else on his team was as well.  His second year went much better but he still hasn’t scored a goal.  Tee Ball went well and he really had a lot of fun playing it and he was arguably the best hitter on the team.  I’ll have to work with him on catching in the spring, that’s for sure.

He and his younger brother always talked about learning “karate” and when we saw the class being offered at the rec center we jumped all over it.  Their interest, however, has been lukewarm, I’d say.  It’s not unusual for one of them to say they don’t want to go, and we’re talking about a one-day-a-week, 45-minute class.  Still, they’ve not missed one, and they always seem to enjoy the class, so we’ve got that going for us, which is nice.

Tonight during a break in the class, I was minding my own business trying to find a sushi joint in Ann Arbor via Urbanspoon when I turned and saw the instructor sitting next to me.  Now, it’s scary enough that she could probably kill me with one of her well-manicured nails, but to have her stealthily appear inches from me gave me freaking goosebumps.  Anyway, she proceeded to tell me that my son belonged in the older kids’ class.  She said he’s quick to pick up on everything they do, that he listens well and seems like a natural with Tae Kwon Do, and he’s ready to move up.  He’s six.  The older kid class is 8 and up.

Needless to say, I was thrilled.  Visions of The Crane swept across my starry eyes.  I started humming “Sweep the Leg,” by No More Kings.  Unfortunately, the feeling wasn’t mutual with my son.  I called him over and asked him if he wanted to go to the big kids’ class, which was right after his class, and he flatly said no.  He had a busy day at school, so maybe he was just tired, but I really thought he’d be fired up about it.

Later, in the car, after we’d watched a bit of the big kids’ class, I asked him why he didn’t want to move up.  ”Well, maybe after I get a sticker in every column on my sheet for this class, then I’ll move up.”  He likes this class and I think he knows how well he’s doing.  I also think he’s got a thing for the instructor, between you and me.  He struggles with success sometimes, I think, because, honestly, he’s not the luckiest kid in the world.  His younger brother got the first spare when we went bowling.  His brother’s ticket won the pumpkin at the school dance.  It’s things like that that I think gets to him a bit, although you’d never know it by looking at him.

My son is such a good kid, and he deserves breaks, if for no other reason than for validation of how well he handles it when he can’t catch a break.  We’ll talk about Tae Kwon Do this weekend and make a final decision.  I’m pretty sure I already know what the answer will be, and I’m fine with whatever he chooses to do.