second wvu game

it's not down to a science, but was a bit better prepared for the boy at his next west virginia football game.

this time, employed a blue's clues fire engine, a reporter's pad and pen and a bagful of wheat thins sticks to keep him more or less seated.

(didn't have to break out the transformer action figure or the brownie bar.)

he definitely got more into the spirit of things, shouting "let's go!" whenever daddy did. he even hollered "wes' ginia!" during a lull in the action, which elicited a few "aww's."

when the boys in front of us went out for beverages, he stood on their bleacher and danced to the stadium music.

but ... he was ready to play football by the time the first half was over.

so we made our way through the crowds toward the north endzone touchdown terrace by way of the concession stand for a pretzel ("i hongry") and a miller lite (daddy thirsty).

i steered the boy by the top of his head as he noshed on a barely warmed-over salted pretzel and i sipped my beverage. (would have liked video of me holding beer and pretzel in the same hand.)

the teen in the gray no. 12 jersey was nice enough to catch the ball
from the boy whenever he'd throw at him.

the teenagers tossing their football around were kind enough to hand the boy's ball back to him when he threw their way, as was the row of high school girls he kept chatting up and high-fiving.

he met a classmate of mine
i've known since junior high.

there was a lot less chasing the boy around and more engaging him with ball tossing and walking the terrace. he even sat for a photo with a high school classmate of mine who was working the game.

we walked to my sister's place in a brief drizzle. i carried him on my shoulders for about a half-mile and he walked the rest of the way, pausing to pick up a couple of rocks, one of which he heaved into the street. luckily, no cars were passing.

a short break later and we were on the road home. he passed out somewhere along the mileground and again woke up at bridgeport. more french fries, but i think he's getting tired of chicken nuggets.

storified post: waiting for the other shoe

my first effort at storifying a blog post.

a fluke? or a trend?

the boy seemed to get a kick out of the waves generated by the boats on flat top.

during our visit to my folks down in beckley, the boy had a few non-exemplary moments -- screaming, mostly, including in the middle of the night -- which kris and i had come to live with, and hoped to live through.

these were new to mom and dad, who had the opportunity to view them minus the background noise of at least five other small people -- a.k.a. his cousins -- that normally distracts from his getting individual attention.

watching him be noisily stubborn or contrary led to some breakfast conversation rolling around what we're doing to curb this kind of behavior and when we were going to become concerned by it.

(my feeling then and now is that this is typical 2-year-old behavior. i'll consider it a problem when he's 4. mom's query, "what then?" didn't exactly floor me, but it did seem a dig, as if we weren't doing anything to make it stop. my point was that if, after all our efforts for the next two years come to naught, then maybe we'll need a professional.)

his behavior didn't seem to improve on a visit to kris' folks the following weekend. there was screaming and hitting and a spectacular abuse of kris' eyeglasses -- holding them in his mouth so he could leverage the breaking of the arm to the most precise degree.

but in conversation with my folks, mom suggested we at least try pre-school. perhaps a structured environment, another adult besides kris or myself telling him what to do, and other children his age would give his mind some room to roam.

if there was no improvement in a few months, she said, pull him out. so we signed him up for two days a week and held our breath.

well, three sessions in, and no complaints yet from his teacher. when asked by kris if he'd been screaming, she looked at kris as if she were nuts. "heavens, no." was this our boy she was talking about?

weird thing came that evening. got a text from kris saying how agreeable he'd been all day and how there'd been no meltdowns, no screaming and no hitting. we were both waiting for the other shoe to drop.

then came this:

(Boy) cleared the table, put dishes in sink and helped dry.
— stuff kris sends (@textstogrumpnet) September 13, 2012

except for a middle-of-the-night episode that require a couple of re-tuckings and lullaby singings, he was as good as gold.

tonight, after an evening swim at the ywca and a day of benign, relatively quiet toddler mischief, he ate more supper, watched an episode of curious george, read a book, then declared he'd skip a pre-bed snuggle with mommy and daddy because "i want to go to sleep."

and there he is. kris says this is his third night in a row he's done this. not quite sure what to make of all of it. have more synapses connected here? you know -- the ones where obedience and recognition of consequences are attached?

i'm not ready yet to say we've turned a corner, but i'll take it -- and take these days as proof that prayer works.

in medium. and large.

West Virginia running back Andrew Buie "de-cleats" Marshall linebacker Cortez Carter on a busted play. He’s 5-9, 190 pounds. The victim here is two inches taller and 35 pounds heavier.

my west virginia mountaineers get some exposure this week after their impressive showing against marshall in last saturday's coal bowl.

one of my favorites was this gif from a website that just makes these moving clips that shows a massive block delivered by wvu running back andrew buie. it popped up within hours of the game.

the next day, an espn blog ran their three favorite entrance videos for teams as they took the field. wvu's was the first.



even public radio got into the act, as american public media's marketplace ran a piece on wvu's efforts to control drunkenness at ballgames by selling beer. here's a niece interview with athletic director oliver luck.


(btw, thanks to colleague and wvu sports beat writer extraordinaire mike casazza the last two items.)

haven't seen this kind of attention since wvu's last media lovefest in coach bill stewart's first season. (specifically, before the highly-ranked team's first loss and subsequent descent into maddening above-averageness for the next three years.)

of course, success breeds success, does it not? no one would be paying attention if we'd begun the year with a loss. the news angles will keep coming only so long as the team keeps winning.

i'll enjoy the love for as long as it lasts -- and i hope it's a long time.

walker, w.va. ranger

put the girl behind the walker i'd given my eldest niece about 10 years ago. mayhem ensued.

parent's pledge

finally, a photo by grumpnet on Flickr.

i will do my best to not let fatigue and frustration rob me of the joy of being a parent to a little boy.

Via Flickr:
knocked out after a super-late bedtime. unfortunately, he would wake up screaming in about an hour.

first wvu game

first wvu game, a photo by grumpnet on Flickr.

originally, kris, the boy and i were supposed to go this last west virginia-marshall football game, but it turned out all children have to pay full admission to ballgames now, so it was going to have to be two of us.

behavioral issues with the boy kind of put the kibosh on subjecting her parents with a ticking time bomb, so i went with the boy.

i actually thought i'd be able to follow through on plans to meet pam and tim, a couple of high school friends i've been keeping contact with for the past decade.

i figured tailgate at a colleague's house, game, then supper with friends while traffic died down.

yeah, that was delusional.

after a night of constant wake-ups from said boy, i awoke groggy at 7 for a noon kick-off and a two-hour drive ahead of us.

a quick breakfast, shower and packing of supplies and we were on the road in about an hour and a half after an atm stop.

the munchkin actually amused himself for most of the trip up -- looking at books, peppering me with questions and observations and just staring at the scenery.

he was running out of things to do when i figured we'd better eat before we hit town or we'd never get to the game. plus the promise of french fries again saved my bacon.

chicken nugget kids meal for him and a quarter pounder with cheese for me from the bridgeport mcdonald's and we were back on the road.

traffic was congested, but moving, so we made it to my sister's place long enough to change a diaper and slather the boy with sunblock.

then we began the mile-long walk to the mountaineer field. (and by "walk," i mean me carrying him on my shoulders.)

we made it to our seats just as wvu scored its first touchdown. an air raid siren went off, which startled the boy, but he seemed to get into the spirit of things quickly enough.

the humidity made the mild heat this side of miserable. i was constantly wiping my brow. i did my best to keep the boy hydrated.

he started getting squirmy around the second quarter as i tried to keep him from heading down the stairs and into the sea of humanity.

the sweet couple sitting next to me handed an envelope and a pen for him to draw with. i remarked that i should have brought toys, but i was most grateful for their thoughtfulness.

whatever improvements were alleged to have been made to help mobile phone reception at the stadium were not evident, as numerous text and voice messages to pam and tim went unreturned.

as the half wound down, the boy said he wanted to play football, which i think is what he thought we were going up there for.

so i went to the grassy entry at the north end of the stadium where he could run around. with so many footballs flying from all the boys playing in the area, i figured it would be a good idea to get one for mine.

so he threw it and ran with it and kicked it. then he found where the maintenance crews were dropping off containers of garbage and gravitated to the containment area where he could better step in whatever was leaking toward the storm drains.

(he followed that up by playing "dancing waters" at both handicapped water fountains.)

meantime, though, we ran into cathy, a friend of mine from junior high, who now works for wvu. she seemed tickled by the little guy -- or maybe my efforts to keep him corralled.

(if i'd have been thinking staight, i would have had a picture taken of the three of us, but i suspect the boy would have started screaming if tried constraining him for a photo.)

with all the scoring going on, i assumed the game was nearly over, so we meandered back to the south end of the stadium in hopes of finding my friends.

no answers from the phone. and all that scoring happened in the third quarter.

tried an abortive trip back to our seats, but the meltdown had begun. i waved goodbye to the lovely couple and started down the stairs.

on our way out, we had a picture taken by a stadium worker, then hoofed it back to my sister's.

there was no actual meltdown, by the way. the tiredness, heat and humidity just made the boy pliable, rather than irritable.

we chatted the whole way back to the house. he made observations and extrapolations about who should play the sax after we passed the busking saxophonist who played "the william tell overture" when he saw me carrying the boy. (i wasn't able to tip him.)

a quick diaper change for him, some electrolyte replenishing orange juice for me from my sister's fridge and we were back on the road.

traffic looked like gridlock, but it actually moved, glacial though it was until we hit route 705. then it was up to highway speed once we hit the interstate.

the boy, after dismantling a pen from my sister, fell asleep not a mile from her house. he stayed that way through bridgeport, where he awoke pissed and in urgent need of french fries.

more nuggets and a double cheeseburger from the bridgeport wendy's and we were southbound again.

alternately munching fries and nuggets, the boy was happy for the better part of an hour.

i tossed back the kids meal prizes and handed him a play ball and this weird collapsing tube that he sang into and used as a megaphone.

by the time we hit kanawha county, he was ready to see mommy. somehow, we began singing "old macdonald," which was probably inspired by a recent "blues clues" dvd we picked up.

this gave us enough fodder to discuss who doesn't "p.u." -- curious george, the man with the yellow hat and some person named "mrs. glass."

("p.u." was the sound he decided caterpillars make after i'd asked him what other animals old macdonald had.)

we drove up our hill as i handed him the last french fry. after pulling into our alley, he was ready to see mommy.

funny thing about this trip, as i told kris. i didn't get to do the things i wanted to do, but having a boy keep it together for almost 12 hours was what i needed more than a boy who'd behave at a grown-up's tailgate or in a post-game dinner at a sports bar or other sit-down venue.

(the bonus from being off center was that i got to watch a ballgame where my concern was not with the action on the field, but in the stands. it was a nice way to attain some detachment -- a distraction from my diversion.)

Via Flickr:
the boy accompanied me for the season opener, the last coal bowl game between west virginia u and marshall.