Tennis, Anyone?

Why have I still not changed the name of this blog to something more appropriate with regard to where we live now? I am no longer in denial. I feel like we have a strong base of friends and activities with whom and which we are very comfortable. I quite like my routine and now that the weather is tolerable, things here are so much more manageable. I am not sure why I haven't changed the blog to something like "Up Before the Humidity in Hell"....I think maybe I just don't care enough? Sometimes I wonder why I continue this charade of writing at all, other than to simply clear my head and blow off some steam so I am not completely irascible with my kids.

I continue to be in awe of my kids on the tennis courts and the coaches relentless patience for them. Our four year old is something out of a bad dream the way he continues to disrespect their authority and wander around in his own world. It is not until I march out on the courts and threated to take away his lifeline-videos-that he will tune in and pay attention. When he does actually focus for 10 minutes, he has a mean backhand and a killer volley. Even with those toothpick arms, he is able to hold up that racket (that is almost as big as he is!) and generate enough power to get it over the net. Poor Gordon, in his easy New Zealand style, never balks at him or ever for a moment loses his temper with this child who is all over the map and haphardly good in his "I don't give a *%$!" way.

Then there is our daughter. The one who cannot stand to be left out of any activity, party, sport or parade. She is a three ring circus out there, running for every ball and dashing all over the clay to make it happen. Her coach adores her, a joy on the court and an encouragement to her fellow players. She is like a light out there, a little brighter and better with each clinic. She loves to hit overheads and loves nothing more to tell us how well she does it.

There is another girl who plays a few courts over at the same time. She is in middle school, maybe, and takes privates from coach Dave. Dave is the ever-confident Brit who is extremely good and though cocky, mild in manner. I love watching him carelessly return the ball to this particular girl. Though she can crack it over the net with some serious force and speed, Dave easily and almost reluctantly can slice through her hits to stop the ball and then simply turn his racquet, as if he were doing something as mindless as flipping a pancake, and catch the ball. Then he serves it up again to her, going easy on her, I am sure. This continues for most of the lesson. He makes he run all over the court for the ball and because she is so good, she can return most everything he gives her, only for him to completely deflate her by not even having to work to return what she has just sent over the net. I have come to love this game, though I don't venture to get out there just yet.

Anyway, another day. We signed Owen up for a triathlon in April since I have to be at the St. Anthony's venue to coach the Team. She is thrilled beyond belief and told me she is ready for a Half Ironman. Easy.