A Rite of Passage

Local drivers, beware…there’s a new kid on the road…Thing 1 has his driver’s permit!

Yes, Tuesday morning, bright and early – and I do mean early (they open at 7 AM), he and I headed to Harriman to the Tennessee Department of Safety Driver License Service Center. Now, I’m not 15 but if I were, just the name itself would scare the fool out of me. It’s so official. Why not just call it “The very small office in Harriman where you get a driver’s permit?” That’s much less intimidating, a little more welcoming, if you ask me.

We chatted during the drive, laughed about some recent goofy things that had happened in our family, and the trip went by quickly. Only when we pulled into the parking lot of the very small office in Harriman where you get a driver’s permit did the weight of the situation hit me. It wasn’t enough that he towers over me, rarely needs assistance making decisions, and started high school last month. Oh, no, we were about to add a box of Morton iodized salt to that already open, gaping wound called “Thing 1 Is Growing Up.” My child was about to take one more step in a direction I affectionately refer to as “Away From Me.” He was about to take a test and fill out a form to complete the first requirement (his permit) towards earning his official ticket of freedom (his driver’s license).

I thought about turning the car around and driving south really, really fast. But sometimes – no, most times – when you’re a mom, you have to put yourself and your immediate needs second (or third or fourth). So without hesitation, I said, “Let’s go get you permitted!” It felt more like I need to be committed…to Moccasin Bend or Greenleaf.

We were the second customers to arrive that morning and had a short wait during which I was forced to fill out official paperwork, urge him to be a designated organ donor, and watch him sign his full name several times in a bittersweet, loopy signature that didn’t look like a grown man’s handwriting at all. I choked up a couple of times but I’m pretty sure he didn’t have a clue. He had his eye on the prize (oh, yeah, and he was combing his hair a lot in preparation for his photo!)

I supplied his birth certificate, his social security card, my license…we gave them everything but a blood sample. And finally it was time for him to take his test. They directed him to a small room with computers and told him to turn over his cell phone to me. That’s the only time he hesitated. I don’t think he was afraid of the test, rather I think his cell phone is like a respirator for him. I saw a bit of fear in his eyes as he handed me the precious accessory. I winked and said, “Breath deep…it will be waiting for you when you’re done, my son.” He bravely nodded, squared his shoulders and disappeared through the door to his awaiting computer and the test.

I retreated to the waiting room and did random things – cleaned out my purse, memorized all the signs on the walls, read all of his text messages. When he came out, he slid into the seat next to me and said, “Piece of cake.” Apparently he had studied his practice tests and had reviewed a lot of material in driver’s education class at school. A few moments passed and I heard one of the girls behind the counter quietly say, “He passed, do you want me to process the permit?” I realized I had been the one in need of a respirator and I exhaled with relief or trepidation – I’m still not sure which. The state of Tennessee had deemed Thing 1 capable and worthy of owning a driver’s permit. He was officially on his way to freedom! Son, 1 point…mom, zero.

A small fee, another couple of signatures and one photo later, a man behind the counter said, “Congratulations, son. Here’s your permit,” and handed it to him.

I swear he looked like Charlie in the Willie Wonka movie when he got the golden ticket. You couldn’t have wiped the smile from his face with a case of erasers. It was a great moment – pretty sad but really great and I’m glad I’m the one who shared it with him.

We walked to the parking lot and I handed him my car keys. I guess my oldest is a little dense because he walked over to the driver’s side, unlocked my door, and handed the keys back to me. I said, “What are you doing?” He said, “What are YOU doing?” I said, “Waiting for you to drive me somewhere.” He said, “Now? Out of here?” I said, “No time like the present. Show me what you know.”

And so he did. We arrived safe, sound and well under the speed limit (I’m glad he doesn’t have my lead foot – yet). I think he’s the first among his friends to have that precious permit so I feel driven (pardon the pun) to offer my mom gal pals some advice…help them study, keep them calm, and take off the rest of the day after the test for medical reasons because you may have a debilitating case of the blues.

Love...Third Grade Style

I’m in my very early mid-40s (is there really such an age? Ha! There is now! LOL) and I’ve been with my husband for over 20 years. So to say I have forgotten the innocent nuances of love at first sight is an understatement. Aside from a pair of earrings I spotted at Ghirardelli Square in San Francisco last February, I haven’t experienced love at first sight in two decades. Not to insinuate that I fell in love my husband at first sight…technically, I had known him for six or seven years before I fell in love with him. So I guess you could say it took about 143 sightings of him before my heart went a-flutter. But I digress.

Back to love at first sight.

Thing 2 has always been the Don Juan of our family (or Don Wannabe – that’s what my hubby calls him). That child has been girl crazy from the time he realized there were major differences between the sexes. At any given time you can ask him “How many girlfriends do you have?” and he’ll say “A bunch.” His first sweetheart was Anne Marie, then came Caitlyn, then came Meredith, then came Micah, then came (and stayed) Meredith again. She has been the most enduring, lasting a whole year! That is, until Thing 2 started third grade this year.

Here was our conversation last week.

Thing 2: Mom, I think I found me a pretty girl.
Mom (fighting back shock and dismay at the thought of losing dear, sweet Meredith as a potential daughter-in-law 20 years from now): Really?
Thing 2: Yep. But she’s in 4th grade. I guess I’m into older women now.
Mom (now stifling a giggle): Hmmm. Well, 4th grade isn’t that much older than 3rd grade. You’re probably the same age, number-wise. What’s her name?
Thing 2: I have no idea.
Mom (now totally confused): Why don’t you know her name?
Thing 2: I just don’t.
Mom (fully intrigued): Haven’t you asked her name?
Thing 2: Nope. I haven't even talked to her yet.
Mom: Ahhh…well…how do you know you like her?
Thing 2: I just do, that’s all.

If love were only so simple, right? Well, I really didn’t know what to say so I went about preparing supper. I thought the conversation was over until suddenly it wasn’t.

Thing 2: So, Mom, what do you think I should do? Should I write her like a secret admirer note or buy her something or what?
Mom (picking myself up from the floor knowing full well this sweet child of mine can’t even SPELL secret admirer correctly): Um, I’m not really sure, dear. What do you think you should do?
Thing 2: I’m not sure. That’s why I’m asking you. What did dad do when he started thinking you were pretty?

Oh, boy…I wasn’t even going to head down that path. I want my sons to take after my husband in a lot of ways. My husband is a hard worker, he’s honest, he’s fair, he’s mild-mannered, he’s detail-oriented, he’s incredibly handy to have around the house. But when it comes to romance…well, let’s just say the boys might want to work that one out on their own - take a night course - read some articles - do research online - ask their Uncle Joe...anything but seek their dad's advice.

When we "courted," it took him a month to work up enough nerve to kiss me goodnight. And then, when he finally did, it was because I stomped my foot and ordered him to do so. He complied, then proceeded to stumble backwards off my porch steps. Not exactly a cinematic moment. But I kept him so there must have been some sparks.

I was spared anymore "advice for the lovelorn" sessions by Thing 2 when he arrived home the next day to announce that he and Meredith were boyfriend and girlfriend again. I said, "How do you know you are boyfriend and girlfriend again?" He said, "Because she told me we were - she said 'do you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend?' and I said 'sure' and she said, 'okay, we are.'" (These kids are smooth operators, I tell you). So I asked, "What about your older woman?" He said, "She can wait. Besides, I didn't even know her name. You can't have a girlfriend if you don't know her name."

True that, my son, true that.

Catch up

I hate playing catch up. I've had to do it a lot this summer (summer? THAT is a laugh - it seems like summer was a long weekend and that's it!)



I've neglected this blog - I think I offered the phrase to Julianne of "bloglect" which basically means failing to blog for seven or more days in a row. I've done that to the third power, I believe!



Anyway, to recap - Thing 2's All Star team swept Districts undefeated...then we hit the state tournament and fell short - REAL short - of our goal of being state champs for the third year in a row. We had a strong start but ended up third in state. Boo hissss...but the consolation prize to me was we would NOT be required to go to the World Series in Southaven, MS. Yeah!!!!



Or so I thought.



A parent meeting was held to discuss the World Series - our team earned an automatic bid because we were the defending state champs. I was the lone opposer who said we didn't need to take a 3rd place team all the way to Mississippi. Eighteen dirty looks, several scowls and some not so nice comments later, it was decided we would pack our bags and head to the World Series. It was a great trip which Thing 2 and I made by ourselves (hubby started a new job and Thing 1 had football practice with the varsity team -oooohhhh, ahhhh). There were 64 teams in our age group - we placed FOURTH! Unbelievable, I know. We even ended up facing our state's champion and runner-up and we beat both! It was an incredible six days in Southaven.

Thing 2 and I pulled into our driveway at 1 AM on Thursday morning after our last game Wednesday night, and I was immediately faced with last minute details for my high school class's 25th reunion scheduled for the weekend...which I planned and organized. It was a three-day event and it was loads of fun! My college roommate came in from Colorado, one classmate flew in from Japan...we drank, we danced, and we enjoyed ourselves immensely.

The very next week - both kids started school! Thing 1 is now a freshman in high school (eeek! That hurts to type) and Thing 2 is now in 3rd grade. Football is in full swing for Thing 1 - the high school jamboree is tonight in Chattanooga and he has to dress out with the varsity. He's very excited. Thing 2 is enjoying his time away from the baseball diamond (and so are we!) Work is busy, busy, busy....

And that's my stab at catch-up.

SHOTGUN!

Thing 1 and Thing 2 are driving me crazy these days with their silly little game of "shotgun." No matter where we're headed, no matter what time of day, as soon as we lock the back door and make our way toward the SUV, one of them screams "shotgun" then breaks into a full-throttle run for the passenger side door.

This drives me bonkers because no matter who wins the coveted place in the front, the other is pissed off to the max and protests - loudly.

What's the big deal, anway, and why did this male testosterone-driven competition suddenly begin? Thing 2's place has always been in the backseat but these days, he feels compelled to fight for the front seat spot. I'm very confused by this. And I'm very puzzled by the level of emotion associated with this little game. The boy who loses out usually punches the winner or hurls verbal assaults then begrudgingly crawls into the back seat and pouts. And the one that lands in the front seat insists upon doing a little victory dance and squealing with delight. I just don't get it.

It's gotten so out of hand, I've had to set rules for this little competition: 1. If you must scream "shotgun," do it quietly. 2. If you are the winner, you must not gloat over or taunt the loser. 3. If you are the loser, shut up and ride - not one peep out of the kid in the backseat, not one protest, a single punch or a glimmer of pouting. If any of these rules are broken, both boys are forced to ride in the backseat...together.

They have both been ousted to the backseat several times recently for not following the rules. And what has happened on those occasions confuses me even more. They both cross their arms and sulk, throwing glares and dirty looks at me in my rearview mirror. Then, Thing 1 almost always says, "Just wait 'til I get my own truck. Then we can BOTH ride in the front seat every day." Then the little one says, "Yeah!"

Whose game was this anyway?

Take Me Out To The Ballgame...

With regular league play far behind us, our family has officially embarked on ALL STAR BASEBALL SEASON, better known as "Our Life" for 2.5 months each summer (or at least for the last three summers).

Our league has eight teams of boys in the 7-8 age group with 12 or 13 players on each team. My husband was a head coach for the first time this year and steered the 12 boys on his Cardinals team to an astounding three victories and 11 losses (I know, shock and awe). At the end of regular season play, my husband and the seven other head coaches convened in a dimly light pressbox with pizza (and probably cold adult beverages) and, through a very scientific method (NOT), chose the 10 best players from the pool of 100+ boys. These 10, my friends, were deemed the 2008 8-Year-Old Dayton All Star Team. Once the head coach was named (this is the coach who had the best record this year - NOT my husband, mind you), he was allowed to name two additional players to the team (affectionately known as the "alternates"). This team of 12 swept the Dizzy Dean District Championship (for the third year in a row), and will compete in the Dizzy Dean State Championship beginning this Friday at 6 PM in Harrison (keep your fingers crossed!!!)

In preparation for All Star Season 2008, my little one (okay, actually my husband wanted it more than Thing 2 but we'll tell the story the way he'd like it told). Anyway, my little one "needed" a new bat - a 2008 Worth Prodigy Lithium bat, 20 oz. in weight, 30 inches in length, with a barrel exactly 2.75" in diameter. I know all this because retail stores and online vendors discontinued it because it was a 2008 model...and the 2009s are now on the shelves. So I had to turn to ebay for assistance. And through a two-day bidding war with eight other people, I won my Prodigy bat for a grand total of $147.50. Yikes. And when it arrived via FedEx (with its one-year warranty attached), Thing 2 opened the box, pulled the bat from within, and held it - mesmerized. He looked up (I swear with tears in his eyes) and said, "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I mean it."

It was a wonderful moment for me.

So we'll pack the sunblock, the family cooler, and the bat and head to the state tournament this weekend. There will be some stellar plays, some heart-breaking "at bats," and some nail-biting innings, I'm sure, and I'll report back on all of the above - complete with photos - as soon as possible. In the meantime, here's one from our USSSA 4th of July Blow-out in Knoxville this past weekend...with our FIRST PLACE TROPHIES!!!

Sex and the City...the review...

The much anticipated event finally happened Friday night - "Sex and the City" was released to theaters and me and some gal pals had a girls night out to enjoy catching up with the fab four from NYC. The night (and the movie) did NOT disappoint.

For the night out, this was the cast: me, my best pal at work Kell (same age as me but no kids to drive her freakin' crazy), our receptionist Sis (who is 57), a partner's assistant Sylvee (who is 50 something), and my pal from Dayton Kay (an on-the-cusp-0f-50 librarian whom I love deeeeearly). Anyway, we all met at Bluewater for cocktails with some of the "kids" from work (my term of endearment for the young male accountants of the 24 to 26 age range with whom I work). We were positioned directly across from the Bijou 7 where we were planning to see the movie. The people watching was prime - there were limos dropping off scores of well-dressed gals on their own girls night out. We pointed out our favorite pocketbooks or shoes, and we also pointed out a major fashion faux pas or two as we sipped our yummy cosmos.

Five minutes before showtime, we sashayed across the street just like Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte would (plus one) and took our seat in a VERY crowded theater (it was actually sold out but we had purchased tickets weeks before). There were two men in the crowd - I'm not kidding. It was wall to wall estrogen and the moment the movie started, a huge cheer rattled the room. Next to seeing Gloria Steinem earlier this year, attending this movie was one of the most empowering things I've done in a long time.

Despite lukewarm reviews, I loved the movie. I love the friendship that binds these characters together. I was moved to tears when Samanatha spoonfed Carrie yogurt as she nursed her broken heart. Girls...that's a true friend.

We women have a unique ability (and opportunity) to uphold our sisters, care for them, love them, help them, push them, pull them...we all should be able to understand and celebrate one another's struggle to be caregivers without losing ourselves, to love without compromising ourselves, to be unique without alienating ourselves.

On the surface, it was an enjoyable evening out, which I NEVER do for myself. But deeper than that, it gave me a rejuvenated feeling of self...I'm not Carrie, nor am I Samantha, Charlotte, Miranda. I don't live in a huge city and I don't spend hundreds of dollars on shoes. But I am a good-looking, 40-something, somewhat trendy gal with a good job, a healthy and fine family, and friends I can lean on (and sip cosmos with on a hot summer night). I'm pretty lucky. I'll never star in a movie, nor will one ever be made about me...but I felt like a star coming out of that show the other night - the star of my own life which is pretty awesome.

So if you're on the fence about going to see it - do yourself a favor but do yourself another favor and take a good friend (or three) with you.

Sex and the City...Another Addiction

I've been a closet Sex and the City fan for years...no matter what time of night the re-runs show up, I'm glued to the set. I love all four girls - they each represent a little part of the whole me. Of course, I identify with Carrie the most but there's some Miranda, Charlotte and a whole lotta Samantha hiding out in this 42-year-old body.

To me, Sex and the City is like porn for females...we can't wait to visually devour what dress Carrie's got on, what shoes she buys, how hot Samantha looks in undies, and what will make Charlotte wrinkle that perky little nose next. So it's been a long four years for me since the series ended but thank goodness for TBS and re-runs!

Now...tonight is the BIG night. For weeks, some pals and I have had tickets to see the movie at the Bijou 7 downtown. In fact, in 10 minutes we're leaving to meet other friends at the Bluewater Grille for cosmos...then heading to the show. I can't WAIT to see the girls on the big screen. I've missed my "friends" so I'm giddy with excitement. Girls night out...with four girls I really need to catch up with.

I'll post a review sometime this weekend...

The big day approaches

Right smack dab in the middle of a very busy spring with baseball season winding down, several big marketing projects at work, and our town's annual Strawberry Festival (including guests from out of town) comes Thing 1's graduation from junior high. Oh, woe is me! I'm so heart-broken over this milestone that I'm not sure I'll survive the next 29.5 hours. Honestly, I've had it marked on the calendar for awhile but it snuck up behind me and pounced this week with stealth and ease. I can do nothing about it but surrender to it. No amount of pouting, toe tapping, arm crossing or bottom lip quivering will make it go away.



He and one of his pals came home from school yesterday with their caps and gowns and acted silly trying on the mortar boards and mugging in the mirror. It was a nice few moments for me but my heart felt tugged on at the same time. Awhile later, I went to Thing 1's room to check on them and there they were, hanging out watching "Dumb and Dumber" - Thing 1 sitting at his desk and his pal stretched across his bed, two young men about to embark on a huge adventure eating snack food and laughing over one of the most ignorant movies ever made. And it brought tears to my eyes.

He learned today during graduation practice that he earned the President's Award for Educational Excellence based on his GPA and his national test scores. And the principal asked him to lead the audience in the pledge tomorrow night as well as give other instructions during the graduation ceremony. Then I received very sweet emails from one of his coaches and one of his teachers, both saying how much they would miss him and what a joy he has been to them. Can my heart take anymore, I wonder?

I hope these shining moments make an impact on him - I hope they make him yearn for more shining moments and motivate him to do his very best. I hope they fan a fire inside of him so he has the drive to excel in school and sports without the imprints of my hands on his back.

And I hope I can get through tomorrow night without too many tears. I won't set the bar too high - I won't hope for a dry graduation ceremony. I know the waterworks will come. But they will be tears of sadness and joy intertwined...sadness that my little boy really no longer IS a little boy, but joy that my life has been blessed with such a spectacular young man as he is.

Stress Leads to Skinny

These past few months have been stressful for me...

Tax season just about kicked my arse this year for several reasons - namely because at the same time I was busy putting in 55 to 60 hour weeks, I was also juggling Thing 1's AAU basketball participation and Thing 2's baseball team being coached by the man I sleep with most nights (I say "most" because I kick him out of my big California King a night or two a week so I can cuddle with Thing 2!). Long story short, it was a tough tax season.

Now...I'm facing, all within the next two weeks, Thing 1's graduation from 8th grade (officially making me a MOM of a HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT) and Thing 2's All Star draft. I'm not sure which has me the most fitful.

Thing 2 has been a member of our league's All Star team for two years running. But you know, as much as I'd like to say the selection is based on skill, I also know there are politics that come into play. And that makes me nervous. Mostly because I'm not very good at politics. If I think something, I usually say it. If you piss me off, you know it. I'm not a "yes" man...eh hem...woman, I mean. I have opinions and I share them, when asked to. So, I probably get a D+ in politics that, when averaged with Thing 2's A- in skill doesn't add up to a very good grade. We will know for certain if he will be part of the two-time Dizzy Dean District Champs and two-time Dizzy Dean State Champs All Star Team again this year around May 24th and I'll share that info when it's made public. In the meantime, keep your fingers crossed and say a prayer that I can keep my mouth shut.

Thing 1's graduation is May 15th at 7 PM. I will be in tears beginning around 4:15 PM that afternoon so keep me in your thoughts. The other day, my pal, Cowgirl and I were chatting about recent stressful events in our lives - hers being the discovery of a snake in her office and mine, paling in comparison, being Thing 1's graduation. I told her, "I can't believe that he hasn't even shown the least amount of remorse for leaving behind his younger friends and his school! He doesn't seem the least bit sad over that." She gently reminded me that he was NOT sad about it - that all he was concentrating on now was The Big Adventure that awaits him - high school. And, as she usually is, she was right on the money. I felt the same way during my 8th grade graduation. Sure, I knew I'd miss the teachers who were special to me. But I couldn't WAIT to hit the halls of RCHS. I guess he feels the same way.

Anyway, my worries have shown up on the scales...I've dropped about 10 pounds this spring and my clothes are baggy. Not complaining, mind you, just curious at the loss of appetite. Nothing sounds good, nothing beckons me from the pantry or refrigerator...chocolate has lost all appeal. Not even Hiroshis, Formosa or P.F. Chang's look tempting.

This could be a very long summer, indeed.

Sweet Victory Is Ours At Last

After much nagging, pleading, and on-my-knees begging, my long suffering husband agreed to coach Thing 2's Dizzy Dean baseball team this year. He's a novice at the whole coaching gig but he reluctantly agreed to coach a team of 12 boys, 7- and 8-year-olds with lots, some or no experience at all in the game of baseball. We have two boys (my son and one other) who have been on the league's All Star team two years running...then we have one boy who had to be taught to swing a bat - he had never held one in his little hands. So believe me when I say we have a mixed bag of sporting talent.

It's been a long season - we're halfway through and we've lost every single game. Every game. We have been known as the only team in the league that has NOT won a game. Very embarrassing. But we have seen progress in the boys and the gaps in the scores have lessened each week...until last night when the goddesses smiled on us and the tides turned for our little Bad News Bears.

I got there late - came in at the middle of the first inning and I looked at the scoreboard which said 7 to 0. I thought, hmmm...guess we're 0. We have a 7 run limit and I noticed that our team was in the field so it hit me full on that WE had 7...we had been at bat already and had actually achieved our run limit! Holy cow! A first! I watched as our team produced the "three up, three down, nobody gets around" cheer that we half-heartedly chant from the stands...and we entered the 2nd inning with a 7-0 score.

Lo and behold - we achieve our run limit again. It was magical. And we head into the third inning with an unbelievable score of 14 - 0. It was sooooo hard not to start celebrating.

When the game ended, we were the victors - 19 to 7...and the best part about it - the team we beat was undefeated! We enjoyed a few minutes of celebration as each little player pinned his gold star to his cap to represent our victory.

And it's official...I definitely like winning much more than losing!

Lessons We Could Learn From Kids

I have baby nursery duty once a month at church on Sunday mornings. I volunteered a few months ago because I felt that nagging maternal yearning rearing its ugly head (I'm surrounded at work by young, fertile newlyweds embarking on parenthood for the first time...we are expecting THREE babies in November alone which means I have a pretty good chance at a birthday baby this year!) Anyway, any chance of a third bundle of joy was "headed off at the pass" so to speak a month after I gave birth to Thing 2 and I'm hoping no one will be calling me grandma for many years go come so I knew I had to find a solution. (Oh, yes, plus I wanted to be of service at my church...forgot that part for a minute).

On Sunday mornings, I am strictly a baby nursery worker - anything in diapers under the age of 1. But when I volunteer on Wednesday, the ages can range from baby to 4 and last night I inherited two 2-year-olds. Two. Twice the trouble. One girl - one boy...Ava and Benjamin. Now, I've had Ava before on a Wednesday night and she's a very quiet little girl. Very busy but easy to entertain. Benjamin...now there's a different story. Busy, full of energy, never still, and totally obsessed with the child-size sinks in the playrooms. One second of unsupervised time and he would fly to the nearest sink (there were three available), turn the water on full blast, wash his hands, then pull out 15 paper towels to dry himself with. Drove me nuts but he left Wednesday night service with spotless paws.

Anyway...Benjamin's mom brought him in and introduced him to me and he immediately ran to the book shelf, chose some reading materials and ordered me to "Wead!" So I sat down on the run, expecting him to sit along side me. But no...this young man who had known me exactly two minutes jumped right into my lap, leaned back against my chest and snuggled in to get comfortable. I loved that. I haven't snuggled with a two-year-old in 5 years...and it felt great.

So last night I came away with a couple of lessons courtesy of Benjamin - you can never wash your hands enough (especially during cold and flu season) and reading is best done in a snuggling position.

Bloglect...Is That A Word?

It should be - it should be an official term used to describe people who start blogs and then abandon them (not mentioning any names, Jo). That's what I've done - created a blog and left it, suspended in mid-air for days on end...it's not that I haven't had things to say - I ALWAYS have lots to say. But tax season and sporting events have kept me hopping and disconnected from cyberspace. So here's a quick update...

Allan's AAU basketball experience has come to an end (we think - there may be one more tournament but officially - it's over!) Lots of hard works and lots of miles on the Blazer but what an improvement in that child's game I have seen. He's had a lot of playing time, scored quite a few points, has become more aggressive on the court, learned to apply pressure when on defense, and has developed an awesome tip-off technique (Lord knows he needs to use that 6'1" stature for something useful!) I'm very proud of him. I did make a horrible mistake last weekend, though. He was fouled and ready to shoot his first free throw and I shouted, "You can do it, sweetie!" It just came out! I clapped my hand over my mouth the moment I did it because I knew...oh, how I knew that was the wrong thing to say. Now his teammates (and parents) call him sweetie. I've traumatized him for life.

Reece's Dizzy Dean local league season is halfway over (THANK GAWD!) Our team is terrible - and I can say that because I'm sleeping with the coach! LOL - yes, my long-suffering husband agreed to coach Reece's team. And I can't blame our 0-6 record on him...we just have a lot of inexperienced boys on the team and it's difficult to develop an understanding of the game, the rules, and even HOW TO SWING A BAT with 12 kids in a few practices. Some of these boys had never even picked up a Louisville Slugger until our first practice. But they're all showing improvement, we're closing the gap in our ending scores, I've finally mastered keeping the scorebook (and running the scoreboard with the PA system OFF!), and the boys have devoured pounds upon pounds of sunflower seeds so life is getting better at the ball park.

That's about it for now. I'm going to try to lose the "bloglect" label this week and catch up on other thoughts and musings including recently read (and adored) books, my favorite new music, etc. Hang with me...

Hard to Let Go

I experienced a very traumatic event yesterday - I registered my oldest (Thing 1) for high school. I knew the day was coming and had been dreading it with an ache so deep I couldn't even discuss it with my husband or my friends. I literally got teary eyed each time I looked at the registration form. I couldn't focus to even help him choose his course track. I had such a busy weekend leading up to the dreaded Monday that I didn't have much time to dwell on it.

But the quiet moments I did have...they were sad ones. I remember his very first day of school like it was yesterday. I was very pregnant with Thing 2 so I was emotional anyway. I was very anxious about the influence classmates, teachers, and others would have on my oldest. He has always been such a sweet soul - affectionate, caring, a heart as big as Montana. I didn't want that spoiled or soiled. So I had fears, anxious moments, etc. I was also afraid he would be scared himself. I wasn't sure how he would act when I left him at the classroom during the first phase-in day (phase-in days are just a fancy term schools use that translate into "ripping that final umbilical cord from between you and your beloved child as slowly and painfully as possible" - they're not fooling me.

First day of school dawned, I dressed him in his special "first day of school" clothes, loaded up his brand new school supplies in his shiny new backpack and navigated our way to Mrs. Ruehling's Kindergarten classroom. Right off the bat, I noticed he was one of the biggest kids in the class. They all looked so small compared to my big strapping young man. He was head and shoulders taller than the others. I also noticed that he walked in, found his table area, and never looked back at me once. There were no tears, no clinging hugs, no pleas to go home with me. He was ready for his adventure.

For eight years now, I have seen him remain "head and shoulders" above the other children in his classes. Of course, that's through a mother's eyes. I do believe he is a special little soul and so many people say such kind words to me about his manners, his ease of being himself, his comfort in his own skin...that I think there really is something there that's unique. And it's all him...not me or his dad. It's all him. He shines like gold.


Registration Monday dawned and, being tax season, I was swamped at work. Literally didn't have a moment to look up. My plans were to leave at 3 PM, putting me at the high school at 4 PM for the brief orientation meeting, then off to the library to choose classes. I noticed my computer clock at 3:15 PM and realized I was in trouble. I flew out the door, drove fast enough to lose my license, and pulled into the high school parking lot at 4:10 PM. I ran to the weight lifting room to pick him up (where he's been training for the freshman football team) and we sprinted to the meeting, which was just letting out as we got there.

We followed the group to the library to sign up for courses. I was thrilled to see that I knew six out of the eight counselors there (just more potential spies to help me keep an eye on him the next four years). We were second in line and within the short time span of 10 minutes, waiting in line time included, my oldest son was signed up for high school. It happened so quick that I didn't have time to mourn.

We drove home in silence. I didn't know what to say. I was struggling with a lot of feelings and emotions. But I realized it hadn't even dawned on me how he might be feeling. I reached over and laid my hand on his thigh and said, "So, how does it feel to be an incoming freshman in high school?" I held my breath - waiting...he said, "I'm so excited I can't stand it."

I bit my lip and nodded, composing myself enough to say, "Oh, so am I, sweetie. What fun you'll have!"

I'm not excited - I'm sad and remorseful. Where did those young years fly off to? Did I do all I could do to prepare him? Did I show him enough love? Does he know how much he means to me? Does he know how much potential he has? Does he have enough confidence to face the cruel days of high school? And enough wisdom to enjoy the blissful ones?

Time will tell. I'll grapple with this milestone quietly and I hope that sometime this summer the sadness turns to celebration by the time this fall rolls around ... all too quickly I fear. (Photo 1 is Thing 1 with his best friend then - and now - Zach. Photo 2 is Thing 1 before his first football game in fall of 2007)

Maiden Voyage...

Look, Mom! I'm blogging!

My friend, Queen Ginger, sent me an email today routing me to one of her clever friend's blogs. And I noticed Ginger had a blog, too. So, like any girl of the 80s who had 10 colors of Whimzees because everybody else did...I decided I'd make a blog, too! And here it is.

I simply will not commit to a specific number of blogs per day/week/month or even calendar year...but it's here!

Thanks, Queen Ginger, for giving me the nudge I needed to blog myself!