I turned 44 last month...44. That is a huge number.
I don't like getting old. I mean, I know I'm not "old" yet...my aging journey has just begun. But I have certainly made my reservations and I guess some might say I've even bought my ticket.
It's very humbling to get older - things hurt that didn't used to hurt; things droop that didn't used to droop. Rules change, your perspectives change. Mortality takes you by the shoulders and shakes you...it pretty much bites.
I don't agree with the "over 40" chicks who say things like "I've come into 'my own' since I've turned 40." Well, I kind of liked "my own" when it was 20 and looked like it was 20. My own at 44 doesn't look anything like it did 20 years ago. I hate my gray hair and I don't consider my wrinkles the "road map of my life" - if I could afford it, I'd drive my happy arse to Botox City every few months. "Road map of my life" indeed...whoever coined that phrase should be shot.
Another thing, when you get older, you sort of have to grow up and stop being so "me" all the time. While I don't think I'm self-centered, I do sort of live in a little fantasy world called "Kim's Universe." Being selfish and self-centered is cute when you are 25 and hot. When you're 44 and supposed to be raising two responsible children, it's not so attractive. I've had to get up and over myself a lot this year - had a major falling out with one of my gal pals, my parents have been ill, my children are changing and needing me less and less, I've lost several good friends to cancer. It seems the very things by which I've defined myself for many years are shifting and changing; therefore, I have had to change, too.
It's not been fun. And I can't imagine it's going to get any "funner," either.
I think I'm going to myself a T-shirt...it's going to say "As Mature As I'm Going To Get." And it will be purple...
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
It's been a year...
Almost to the day since I last blogged. Shame on me. Wow - have things changed!
In the past 12 months I've lost a dear friend (Jerry), cheered Thing 1 through his freshman basketball season, joined a gym and started working out, become a Facebook junkie, cheered Thing 2 through a baseball season (complete with another All Star season and yet another trip to the World Series in Mississippi), lost a neighbor to cancer (Mr. Garry) and I've survived Thing 1 obtaining his driver's license.
It's been a big year for me.
Other things have happened, too. But those are the highlights.
I've got to be more faithful to this blog. That's my not-so-new year's resolution.
In the past 12 months I've lost a dear friend (Jerry), cheered Thing 1 through his freshman basketball season, joined a gym and started working out, become a Facebook junkie, cheered Thing 2 through a baseball season (complete with another All Star season and yet another trip to the World Series in Mississippi), lost a neighbor to cancer (Mr. Garry) and I've survived Thing 1 obtaining his driver's license.
It's been a big year for me.
Other things have happened, too. But those are the highlights.
I've got to be more faithful to this blog. That's my not-so-new year's resolution.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, July 11, 2008
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?
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?
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
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!!!
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