Dear Kid,

High school soccer season has begun. And by “begun” I mean there was a scrimmage last night.

We played at Turpin, which is southeast of exactly nowhere.

I’m pretty sure the location moved while we were there because the drive home was significantly shorter than the arduous journey we took to get there in the first place.

Turpin (according to Dictionary.com) refers to an English highwayman named Richard Turpin.

The Turpin High School probably didn’t get its name from a thief who died a couple of hundred years ago, but their website didn’t give a more relevant explanation.

So, being the kind of mom I am, I will provide a little more information. (This explanation of course is coming from the unimpeachable source of I’m-making-it-up.)

There are quite a few conflicting theories as to where the name Turpin came from. Scholars have debated the origin for years, but evidence has finally come to light to Explain All.

The first theory is that Turpin stands for Township Urchins Revere Penguins In Nests. This is of course pure nonsense as one doesn’t need to be an urchin to adore penguins and who uses the word “urchin” these days anyway (unless they are referring to sea urchins and we’re more than a few miles from the sea).

The second theory is that someone named Turpin died where the school is built. Which is probable but gory and one can see why they don’t brag about it on the website.

Another theory is that someone named Turpin gave a lot of money and/or land to the district, which sounds better but is highly unlikely since nothing else in the area is named Turpin and because they would have been screaming it in BIG LETTERS on the website if that were the case. (Mr. Donald P. Turpin, though he didn’t have children of his own, left his fortune of $14.17 to build this school on the family farm…).

The most logical explanation is that one day a terrapin fell out of the sky, landed on that very spot, and in the confusion of trying to explain what it was doing up in the sky in the first place lost a few of the more important letters in its name. Those letters T, R, P, and N mixed with letters already in the soil in that area and a school sprouted up.

One must be careful of having too little education. One must also be careful of having too much education.

I must be careful to go get some more coffee.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I’m wearing KT tape. I’d take a photo and include it, but the tape the PTs used is just about the same color as my skin so all you’d see is a close up of mom-ankle. I thought you’d be pleased that I passed on the photo op.

The reason for this application of KT tape is that the Physical Therapists (you remember them) are hoping it will help encourage the bones in my foot (you remember them) to stay where they are supposed to stay rather than where they seem to want to migrate to. This is all somewhat incidental as the PTs (there’s a gaggle of them) have now concluded that the Big Issue is the tightness in the side of shin and the lack of cooperation from the nerves near my knee. Which led to dry needling (another topic for another day).

As you may or may not know, KT Tape was named by the Department of Redundancy Department Department because KT stands for Kinesio tape.

It was invented by a Japanese chiropractor named Kenzo Kase all the way back in the 1970s which just goes to show that some ideas leap to success (Apple watch) and others take 40 or so years to become popular.

From the company’s website:

KT TAPE is applied along muscles, ligaments, and tendons (soft tissue) to provide a lightweight, external support that helps you remain active while recovering from injuries. KT Tape creates neuromuscular feedback (called proprioception) that inhibits (relaxes) or facilitates stronger firing of muscles and tendons. This feedback creates support elements without the bulk and restriction commonly associated with wraps and heavy bracing. KT Tape gives you confidence to perform your best.

Translation: Better than a Band-Aid and mom kiss for boo-boo.

The reason KT tape works is unclear. And by “unclear” I mean there is more than one authority in the world who poo-poos KT tape’s efficacy entirely. There are more athletes and trainers who are busy ignoring the skeptics because DANG they look good in KT tape, and oh-by-the-way it works.

In my particular case, we are not going for the “confidence to perform at my best.” We are going for “All You Bones and Stuff, Get Back Where You Belong!”

This is not a medically recognized diagnosis.

Then again, more than one PT thinks I’m an alien based on the way my foot responds to treatment.

For the record, skin-colored KT tape is really not a good idea. You completely lose out on the sympathy vote (“Oh, my goodness! What happened to you?!”) and the martyr vote (“I can’t believe she’s able to stand and lecture for that long with her leg like that. Her ankle must be killing her!”). With skin-colored tape, pretty much no one even notices your heroic actions.

On the other hand, if you’re hoping to wear interesting shoes without incurring commentary from everyone and their brother (“Should you really be wearing those?”), flesh tone is the way to go.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Happy, happy me.

Three huge cheers for the Arizona Cardinals (who might now be my second favorite Football team) for hiring the first female coach in the NFL.

They have hired Dr. Jen Welter, whose only flaw seems to be that she went to the wrong college in Boston.

Know this: she can kick your butt—in a lot of ways. She played rugby at that unmentionable school, played pro football for 14 seasons, and was a running back for indoor football. Yes, the boys’ team.

In the article My Friend the Internet shared with me, she was quoted as saying, “I want little girls everywhere to grow up knowing they can do anything, even play football.”

As the mom of a girl who played football, that’s not what I want. I want men everywhere to know that girls can do anything, even play football. I want boys and girls to know that which restroom you use is not what defines you—it only defines what gossip you are privy to.

I also want boys and girls to know that football players don’t have to be stupid (although in high school it seems to help—you knew I couldn’t resist). This woman has a masters and a PhD. She is athletic, she is feisty, she is willing to break barriers (the social and mental kinds), and she is smart.

Being smart is cool. Being successful is cool.

Going to the Other College Down the Street is not, but at least she didn’t play ice hockey.

According to the aforementioned article, the football players are ready to get to work with her. Three cheers for them for being smart enough to recognize talent.

So to @jwelter47 from all of us who at one time or another have been the only woman in the room: Best of Everything. We’re standing there with you and can’t wait to see the great things you accomplish.

And to the leadership and players of the Cardinals @AZCardinals: Congrats on being smart. Wishing you a great season. Please don’t beat the Bengals.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

The thing about wishing for something is you sometimes get what you wish for.

Mere minutes ago, we were whining about being in the middle of monsoon season. “What happened to summer?” we wailed. “Why is there all this rain and no sun?”

Even Farmer Brown wasn’t happy. There was too much rain and his crops (like most of us) don’t like soggy toes.

We all sat around wishing for a beautiful day so we could take a walk at lunchtime without wearing hip waders and foul weather gear.

Then, poof! Mother Nature had had enough of the whining. You want sun? I’ll give you SUN, and splat, it was summer. 98 degree summer. High humidity of south Ohio summer. Sun beating down with nary a cloud in sight summer.

Just in time for the summer soccer games.

The good news is the players aren’t slipping in mud puddles.

The bad news is the players are slipping in sweat puddles. (Just as attractive.)

The worse news is that the viewers are sitting in sweat puddles too.

Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I, your favorite mother, took my first spin class last night.

Lindsey TheBloggerJournalist and Spinning Instructor is crazy fit and has been teaching spinning for quite some time. I met Lindsey when she was blogging for TEDxCincinnati and she told me she taught spin at the Rec Center. I thought Why not? Turns out there Are Reasons Why Not.

I walked into the room basically the same mom you know and love. I crawled out a mere puddle of person.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

When I got to the spin room, Lindsey greeted me cheerfully. The spin bike gloated. When machinery gloats, you should probably worry.

The first thing one does when one goes to a spin class is set the bike for your (lack of) height. Of course if one isn’t careful, one gets bitten by the bike pedal. Which looks like a lion swatted the back of my leg. It was even more elegant in person. Lindsey, to her credit, did not laugh. At least not out loud.

So we (and by “we” I mean Lindsey) adjusted the bike. The bike purred—it likes her. I climbed on to test the fit. The bike bit me. Relationship established.

Then Lindsey explained how the gears and the monitor worked. So far so good.

The music started and we were off.

While we gently peddled through the warm up (I’ve got this!), Lindsey the Sadist showed us how to ride sitting and how to ride standing. She talked about setting intentions for the ride. (My intention is to not fall off the bike and to make it out alive.) She glowed as she talked about spinning and how much she loves it and loves sharing it with people.

My bike chuckled softly.

When machinery chuckles softly in an evil manner, you should probably worry.

“Set your bike at your base level!” called Lindsey, “That should be between 4 and 10 on your gears!”

I set my gears at negative 273. The bike helpfully settled in and shifted itself to positive 500.

“Ok!” called Lindsey, “We’re going to climb! Set your gear level up 2!” Against my better judgement (and by “better judgement” I mean physical capabilities) I shifted up two levels. The bike called me a wuss. I ignored the bike’s commentary and focused on pedaling. “Up another level!” I shifted. “And one more! We’re almost halfway there!” Halfway? Are you nuts?

Meanwhile, the fat cells in my body were having great fun. They played musical chairs but refined the rules so no one was “out.” In fact, I’m pretty sure they invited a few new fat cell friends to join them. I am the only person in the world who can go to a spin class and gain weight.

We climbed. We recovered (“This is active recovery!” I’m aware. Thanks.) We climbed again.

Once I was completely dead, Lindsey chirped, “Now we’re going to stand up!” We’re done? I did this! No problem! Only she meant we were going to keep spinning while standing up.

Do you know what is harder than spinning? Spinning while you stand up.

Do you know why? I have no clue. The bike probably knew, but it was too busy going all 50 Shades of Spinning on me.

I stood. I sat. I stood more. Sit! Stand! Sit! Stand! Sit! Roll over and play dead! No prob.

You know how the first time you ride a bike after a long time of not riding a bike you get saddle sore? Double it for spin. Triple it if you have a bike that hates you.

I dialed 1-800-SEND-A-WHEELCHAIR.

After the class, I decided to tweet about it.

Took first spin class. #Survived

And then

First spin class ever. Not sure if I’m exhilarated or too dead to feel pain.

I’ll probably spin again. Possibly even before I hit my grave.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Still trying to process everything from TEDxCincinnati on Thursday.

It was an amazing event filled with unbelievable speakers on the Main Stage and demos of cutting edge technology in Innovation Alley. Here are a couple—more to come anon.

Thane Maynard from the Cincinnati Zoo came with a feather of a condor (about a zillion feet long) and a talk about how the world can help heal itself if we let it. (Think about how bones heal themselves—the earth behaves in a similar fashion.) He brought a cheetah with him—because he can. The most amazing thing happened when this gorgeous cheetah came out. There house went quiet. There was no cheering, no applause, just a soft breath from the audience. Everyone seemed to understand that as much as we wanted to give her a standing ovation, the cheetah probably wouldn’t appreciate it. TEDxCincinnati is a classy place. During the break between sessions, Thane brought Tether the ball python to Innovation Alley.

Zachary Green is the founder of MN8 Foxfire. A volunteer firefighter, he designed (Created? Invented? Applied? Pick your own verb) a photoluminescent (glow in the dark) technology that allows firefighters to see better in blackout conditions inside burning buildings. He told his story about creating and using the technology and the difference it’s made in safety and better fighting disasters. He’s now applying the technology to emergency exits and stairs in public buildings to improve safety. Prior to TEDxCincinnati, we put a small piece of the material on each program. Zachary had everyone turn on their phone, light up the strip, and then shut off all the lights. The room glowed. Pretty amazing.

Coach Reed Maltbie is the Exec Director of STAR Soccer Club (and a bunch of other important soccer coaching stuff). He spoke about the difference between needing to coach skills (pass the ball) and needing to use words carefully to create the kind of people we want to see in the world. He talked about the impact coaches have on the kids they work with and how it is not the sports skills that stick with us through life, but how we’re treated, whether we’re believed in that shape us for life. Yes, I wanted to record his talk and play it back for certain unnamed sports coaches. And no, I probably won’t.

The great news is that all of the TEDxCincinnati talks will be available for on-line viewing in about 6 weeks. Until then, you’ll just have to trust me that it was an amazing event, and check back in occasionally for overviews of some of the other speakers.

Love, Mom