tarheels born & tarheels bred

oh how we love us some carolina basketball.  even during one of their worst seasons in recent memory, we are still diehard fans.  no, neither chris nor i attended UNC -- but all four of our parents did, and if it weren't for UNC, well, we wouldn't be here.  our allegiance only wavers when the heels play richmond or davidson, which, surprisingly, both happened this season.  and while we love our alma maters, i have to say that with current price tags of $55,000 and $40,000 per year (!) respectively, the in-state tuition at chapel hill is looking more and more appealing.  we figure we're indoctrinating our children young.

here are a few images from our time with the heels over the past few months.

in late december, coach roy williams puts on a clinic as a fundraiser for one of his charities.  kids get to hang out with the team and staff, doing Q&As with the athletes and getting autographs.  that's liam in the front, looking at roy whose arms are up in the air.  (i describe him that way in case you're having trouble finding the 63-year old gray-haired man amongst the crowd)

no paper?  no problem

how cool is that -- to be nine years old and shooting hoops in the dean dome?!

the news & observer did an excellent series on the JV program at UNC, the only one of its kind in the country.  liam was hooked, so i felt compelled to write a note of my appreciation

 the davidson game was a tough one -- what to wear? whom to pull for?  chris decked himself out in black and red, susanna & i stuck with carolina blue (mostly because we had nothing else), and liam was clearly a mann divided

she might not fully understand all the nuances of the game, but the girl sure can show some tarheel energy

stinky

"something stinks," susanna said from the back seat of the car.  "but i don't know what it is."

i inhaled deeply and smelled it too -- but with many more years of experience, i did know what it was.  it was body odor -- emanating from our nine-year old boy, sweaty from basketball practice with wet hair plastered to his head to prove it.  i had been aware of this issue ever since i had to air out his soccer bag after his goalie gloves (which can't be thrown into the washer along with the other gazillion athletic items he owns) remained zipped inside for far too long.  but it wasn't until this car ride home that i finally acknowledged that it wasn't just his equipment ... it was him.

i sighed.  "liam," i said, glancing at his expectant face in the rearview mirror, "i think you need deodorant." 

his sweet face -- no longer that soft, cherubic face of years gone by -- broke out in a huge smile.  "really?  deodorant?"  he paused, letting it sink in.  "awesome."

this is just one of a long list of signs that have hit me smack upside the head recently that he's, well, growing up.  some signs are welcome; some, not so much.  one that's been comforting to witness is his increased sense of place in the world.  i remember driving him and a friend to the tennis courts back in early december, sitting quietly as they had their own five minute conversation about the death of nelson mandela.  "he was a great leader," liam stated in a voice that sounded like it was coming from a person twice his age.  "he changed south africa forever."

on the other end of the spectrum, he's become overly intrigued by forbidden words, pointing out profanity almost gleefully whenever he comes across it.  (you'd be surprised how often "hell" and "damn" can be heard on the radio and television.)  he's eager to test his limits, even asking me from time to time if he can spell one of the words when he's frustrated. (answer: always no.)

and some signs are just fun to see.  he's watched chris amp up his exercise regimen with F3, and is now eager to grow his muscles like his daddy.  "i want to get ripped!" he's exclaimed, quoting a commercial that airs often on ESPN, which is the only network he ever watches.  so chris has shown him how to do a proper push-up, and every night, he'll do a few sets on his bedroom floor, often calling me in to show me how many more he can do over the last time i watched.

as always, wonder is eager to help ... or at least get in the middle of all the action

and then, there's one sign that was the toughest pill to swallow.  "i hope this is okay," he said to me recently, "but i think i want to just call you 'mom' from now on.  i think 'mommy' is sort of baby-ish."  my eyes widened as i tried to conceal my dismay.  "mommy -- i mean mom! -- i'm like the only kid i know who still uses that word.  i need to grow up sometime!"

like a dagger to my heart.

but he's nine years old.  he's entering that stage they now call "tweens", which perfectly sums up where he is with the push/pull on almost every front.  sure, he follows politics and the news, but he'll still talk your ear off about the wii.  bad words intrigue him, but he still thinks that the "f word" is fart.  he'll do all those push-ups, but only if his beloved night-night is next to him.  and the "mom" thing?  to be honest, he forgets it most of the time.

so at least for a little while longer, i'm still mommy.  he still kisses me goodbye when he leaves for school in the morning, and we still curl up in my bed every night and read together.  and his body -- with the faint scent of deodorant and those bulging muscles -- is still small enough to snuggle into my side.

stinky?  nah.  that's pretty darn sweet.

snowpocalypse

never in a million years did i think i'd be following up my last snow post with another snow post only two weeks later.  but that's exactly what's happened -- and this time it was downright frightening.

we again had full knowledge that it was coming; schools closed pre-emptively (which, this time, turned out to be the right call) and i was well-stocked in ingredients for chili, hot chocolate, and wine.  but the ferocity with which it hit surprised everyone.

let me set the stage: susanna, social butterfly that she is, had been invited to two playdates on wednesday as soon as school was cancelled.  she eagerly accepted both, especially since liam had a half-day of school and we both knew she'd be bored out of her mind without him.  i dropped her off at the first with the plan that her friend's mom would then take both girls to the second playdate at 1:00.

i picked up liam from school and then headed out to cary (a mere five miles down the road) to pick up a space heater i had on hold at target.  as we entered the store, the first flakes had begun to fall, to the delight of both of us.  they were big, wet flakes, sticking to our eyelashes and liam's outstretched tongue.

when we emerged from the store a mere ten minutes later (because you can't ever go into target for just one thing, of course) i was stunned.  the pavement wasn't visible.  you could barely see straight ahead of you for the deluge from the sky.  we hurried to the car and my tires started spinning as soon as i put it in reverse to pull out of my spot.

it was then that i started to worry.  i handed liam my phone in the back seat, instructing him to text daddy to get on the road immediately.  i also had him conversing back and forth with all the playdate moms, having him read out their stories of slipping and sliding just trying to go down their driveways.  we progressed at a snail's pace out of the shopping center complex, but all the while i'm explaining to liam -- whose anxiety is mounting by the second -- that once we hit the highway we'd be smooth-sailing.  i fully believed it myself.

but then we got to the ramp ... and it was gridlock.  i gripped the steering wheel tighter, turned off the radio, and wondered how long our normal ten-minute drive was going to take us.  i had liam call chris again to ask what gear i needed to be in (since i'd never driven this car in snow) and turned on both defrosters rear blast to prevent the ice from forming.  and i said many silent prayers as we inched our way home.

an hour later, we made it.  chris's commute took almost three, and ended with him having to abandon his car about a half-mile down the road and trek the rest of the way in his leather dress shoes.  susanna was still stuck at her friend's house (much to her delight), so i trudged there on foot with her snowboots in a backpack, getting our faces pelted by ice on the way back.  but we were home, safe and sound, by late afternoon, watching the sky empty itself -- with more on the way tomorrow.

but we won't be quite as warm and toasty as we could have been.  because that space heater -- you know, the one that was responsible for our nightmare of a drive?  the one that i had on hold at the only target that still had one?  they had sold it -- the last one in stock -- to someone else.

snow joke.

 susanna and her friend kate -- literally the only picture i have of this event (and i didn't even take it).  the entire time i was outside it was either snowing or sleeting and i just didn't want to chance it with my camera phone