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Family, Parenting

Going for the gold

We’re going to the Olympics.

No, not the “sponsored by Mastercard, so it’s priceless” kind (although my niece is going to those following her study in France this summer and I am a little envious).

Nope, we’re going to the GOYA Olympics (that would be Greek Orthodox Youth of America, not the beans): A couple thousand Greek-American children, teens and their long-suffering parents converging on Suffolk Community College this weekend to compete in a variety of athletic events ranging from checkers (yes), track and the shot put to softball, volleyball, basketball and whatever other kind of ball there might be. Call it My Big Fat Greek Sports Outing.

Our group is headed there tomorrow. For the day. We leave at 6 am, cars packed full of food and sunscreen and half-asleep kids.

It means I’ve spent a chunk of today making pbj, turkey and ham sandwiches; unearthing the beach blankets; putting together a first aid kit. …

Can you tell how excited I am?

I can just feel my mom and dad gloating. Payback is a bitch, and I guess this is mine for all the hours they spent at band competitions, football games and parades, selling boosters, ringing cowbells and sounding airhorns, repairing uniforms, doling out cups of cocoa, selling hot dogs, and otherwise tending to the needs of a horde of teenage band geeks.

Seriously, I’m sure it will be fun. The GOYA kids from our church are terrific and have a great camaraderie. They are an incredibly tight-knit group, representing the siblings Catherine has begged us to provide all her life. She is already missing the several who will head to college in the fall.

However, like her mother before her, Catherine is not athletic.

She will play volleyball, as she has with the church league this year, and hope to make a good showing there.

And while I may be guilty of projecting here, I expect she will stand waaaaaaay in the outfield during the softball games, fervently praying that no ball comes her way. After all, her glove, now four or five years old, is still as stiff as the day it came off the assembly line.

It’s our first time at these games, so I don’t know what to expect, but something tells me it’ll be blog-worthy.

About Terri S. Vanech

Wife, mother, communications specialist, Jazzercise instructor and recently reunited adoptee. I'm living out loud -- and trying to make it all work -- in midlife. Having a sense of humor sure helps.


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