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!
Friday, April 25, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
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...
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...
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
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)
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)
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
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!
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!
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