Tis the Season

Amy and Lani just finished their volleyball season. In Iowa, volleyball is a fall sport. In Northern Wisconsin, it is not. There must be a good reason for this, but we don't know what it is. They played for a Catholic school down the street who let homeschoolers be on their team.

We have been to every gym in a 40 mile radius. I see volleyballs in my sleep. Volleyball in seventh grade is mostly about getting serves over the net.

I'm happy to report that after five Saturday tournaments and a bazillion games, their team came in first place.

We are a volleyball family. Most of my girls have bruised knees and we have a stockpile of kneepads. Amy and Lani had a ball, no pun intended. And when they're happy, generally so are we.

It's kind of bittersweet having our last two girls in volleyball. They are so stinkin cute, and yes, we're biased, but our days of sitting on hard benches and eating concession stand popcorn are numbered.

Amy is a setter

Lani, the left-handed wonder

Though Lani is left-handed, she can only serve overhand with her right hand. And she can only serve underhand with her left hand. Her coach has her mix it up to confuse the other team.

A certain unnamed child has never forgiven me for not letting her play volleyball when she was young. At the time I had seven children aged 13 and younger and couldn't handle any more on my plate.

All I can say, in love of course, is that she has been to six continents and has visited more countries than almost anyone else I know, so my dear daughter, you need to get over it.