My Tyler

Today my blog is a tribute to my number one child. 21 years ago today almost to the minute at the beginning of writing this, I gave birth to Tyler Scott Dudley. He weighed 8 lbs. 2 oz and was born at 5:24 pm in Richland, WA. I will spare you the gory details, but suffice to say, after 20 hours, I was glad the giant headed kid had finally made his grand entrance.

Tyler was one of those babies who gave instant feedback to all who were there. He was very bright-eyed and stared at you, almost like he knew a secret. He immediately stole my heart, that's for sure. Bruce wasn't able to be there for the birth, he was at the Officer Advance course at Ft. Ben Harrison in Indianapolis. Tyler was born before Skype was invented so we overnighted a VHS tape to him of the birth. I can't imagine how surreal it was for him to become a dad over the phone and via video taped images. 10 days later Tyler and I flew out to meet Daddy for the first time. (That was adventure worthy of its own blog entry, maybe some day)

We spent 6 months in Indy where I was home with Tyler while Bruce attended his Army school. It was a very special time for me and I still look back on those days fondly. Tyler basically trained me in the art of mothering, he was such an easy baby and we settled into a routine and it really does seem like only yesterday that he was my little infant cooing and projectile vomiting his baby barf everywhere.

Ladies at the store would often stop and goo goo over him as I do to other young moms now. They would always say "Enjoy him while he's a baby, before you know it he'll be all grown up." I used to smile politely but inside would think that they were a little off their rockers. Well, guess what, the crazy old ladies were right and now I've turned into one of them. My little baby is a big grown up college student who still delights us, doesn't barf on us anymore, but makes us very proud. The time went by in the blink of an eye.

Happy Birthday Ty Ty, your mom loves you.

My Great Auntness

Today I am a great aunt. Actually, on October 15th I became a great aunt. I have been an aunt since October 5th of 1987. On that day, my darling nephew Curtis was born. I was nowhere near the scene of the crime. It killed me. I was in another country, Germany to be precise. In those very ancient and olden of days, we didn't have internet or twitter or any of that. I had to rely on the good old fashioned telephone. I was very excited when I heard the news. I wasn't really a "hands on" aunt at that point. I did receive a video at some point of him rolling over. It was great, he would roll and roll and roll (only one way, he hadn't mastered the reverse yet). I was really happy to see the nephew I had yet to meet, but mind you, I'd not seen my other family members for a year and was anxious to see them... but no, all I saw was Curtis rolling around on the carpet and an occasional knee or ankle. I remember watching that 45 minute video and saying, "oh, there is Nana's cane and her lower leg... wish I could see her face..."

Fast forward to Curtis' son being born. Facebook is now in play. I knew that Siera was having some blood pressure issues and was praying. The due date was a couple weeks away and she was on bed rest. Then, all of a sudden we are having a baby.

I had a volleyball match that night. I get done refereeing and have 3 missed calls from Judy. Too late to return her calls. I get home and Bruce has a message from dad, Grandpa Hall. Judson was born, 4 lb. 9 oz. I immediately question this. I think that someone has screwed up the numbers because they would have a huge and healthy baby. Too late to call home and verify, I sit on my data. Next morning I check in with Judy and get the poop. Little buddy was indeed only 4 lb 9 oz. due to having his cord all tangled up. He had stopped growing and thanks go God's great plan had been born earlier than scheduled because Mom had high blood pressure, most assuredly saving his life. Praise be to God. I know that You have a plan for Judson. I am sure he will do great things for the Kingdom. I am so excited to watch Your plan unfold. For right now, I cannot wait until I get to hold my little great nephew.

Great Aunt Annie is basking in the glow of Great Auntdom..

Inside the Referee's brain

I apologize if the title of this blog scares any of you, if it does, that is probably a good instinct and you should listen to it. I am not undergoing brain surgery where you can peer into my brain literally, but I am going to attempt to provide you a little insight as to the many many thoughts I have while I am refereeing and cannot articulate.

I have been refereeing volleyball since my oldest child was a baby. He turned one during my rookie year. He will be turning 21 in a couple weeks, so quick math will tell you that I've been at this a while. This doesn't automatically mean that I'm the best official out there, believe me, I've seen folks who have been doing this longer than me and are not firing on all pistons. I am not cocky, by any stretch of the imagination, but I have a pretty decent resume when it comes to this goofy vocation of mine. At the very least, I read the rule book and pass a test every year in order to be in the association and get assignments. I know the rules quite well. At any rate, I had this thought the other night (during a match, actually) that I wish I could say aloud the things in my head during matches. It would be very unprofessional, but I think it would make me feel better. I can blog some of them so here goes:

The following are things that I have thought silently during matches over the last 20 years:

• Coach: What was in the net? Me: Her giant bosom was in the net coach, can you not see that she looks like Dolly Pardon? Really?

• Coach: Are you sure she was in the net? Me: Um, yeah and even if I weren't I'm pretty sure there is some DNA proof still in the net, but thanks for asking.

• Coach: How was that a lift? Me: Well, short of her hand actually being an elevator in Great Britain? It was a lift in every other way imaginable.

• Coach: Call it both ways! Me: Gee coach, I'd love to but seeing as how the other team is way more skilled than your team, I can only just call the crappy stuff I see, sorry.

• Coach: You calling their setter more than my setter is giving their team an unfair advantage! Me: Actually, their setter being way better than your setter is giving their team an unfair advantage. It's called winning.

• Coach, yelling to her team: Don't worry about the calls, they are just homering us because we're from Redmond! Me: Coach, you're not getting homered you're getting beat, now sit down and shut up! Oops, that one actually snuck out of my head and right out of my mouth, my bad! She did sit down and the Athletic Director from the home school laughed his head off!

• Coach: How is that a back row attack? Me: After I explained the rule verbally to the mental midget... You wouldn't have to worry about your tall gangly horrible setter back row attacking if your horrible defensive passers could dig a ball without overpassing to the net every freaking time! Try coaching them a little more and nagging me a little less.

• Coach: Stands up and gives me the smirk. Me: Oh Hell to the no! (I gave him a card) He ranted some more, I gave him my best Cesar Millan hand gesture to sit and then in my head... Would you like a critique? How about you teach your girls to pass, set, serve, transition, cover, not dump all the time and just basic volleyball skills. I think you'd be a much happier "little, little man" if your team weren't so crappy!

These are just a few of the pearls of wisdom that float around my head. I'd love to vomit them all out to you, but some are, let's face it, not for blogger ears. I am still sorta sane and still love officiating. I have more good matches where I leave quite happy with no inside thoughts I wanted to share. The nights where my "inside voice" comes out are few and far between, but make for good stories.

Dudster has left the gymnasium!