As unbelievable as it may seem, Fritz went to the last Pack Meeting of the year expecting to receive some acheivements (this time: 3 arrow heads and 3 belt loops) and once again he came home empty handed. If I can’t get him into a different den next year, I don’t know what I’ll do.

A few months ago, I wrote about being at peace. I had forgotten last fall’s soccer season and the previous spring’s baseball season. It is so difficult to be quietly joyful when every day of the week is jam-packed. My calendar looks like my 2 year old scribbled all over it, and there are very few days that are white. When my kids were little, I saw other moms running around like maniacs and vowed to never be one of them…but having 2 boys in 1 sport each is more insane than I could have ever imagined. The other moms in the neighborhood and I try to help each other out, but none of our 8 year olds made it to the same baseball team and only 2 moms got their 5 year olds on the same soccer team (Billy is on the 6 year old team and another mom went with T-ball).

I know two families who do swimming only. It reduces the amount of running around, especially when you have multiple kids. But my kids like soccer and baseball, and I think team sports offer something that individual sports don’t. Next year, the boys will be on the same baseball team, and things should be better, unless Katie wants to do a sport too.

I feel I can’t complain. A callous proponent of the one or two child family would just say that I have too many kids. I can’t give them each the opportunities they deserve. Those who have many kids, but who opt for no or limited extracurricular activities would just tell me that I’m trying to do too much and I should find one thing (like swimming) for all the kids to do, even if their talents lie elsewhere.

There has got to be a happy medium. Or should I just resign myself to 2 months of agony twice a year?

Between the crazy schedule, my husband’s long work days, details like Fritz not getting his deserved awards, Jenny’s recent desire to run away from whatever activity (generally in the direction of traffic), Pete’s curiosity and mobility, and the continued disarray of a recently moved household, I am definitely not at peace. Every night at dinner, my family prays for “peace, justice and forgiveness.” (When my sister visits, she says, “peace, justice and the American Way.”) Sometimes that peace we need is not a grand global peace, it’s just peace right here, right now.