- Jock, who struggled ALL YEAR with English and Math classes, often feeling fortunate to just barely get a "D" to maintain sports eligibility, just got his final report card for his freshman year. That English grade? C. That math grade? C+. Every other class was a B. He worked so hard for those, and I'm so proud of that effort. But I think I'm more proud (prouder?) of the fact that he recognizes that those grades are a direct result of how hard he worked. He knows he earned them, and he's proud of himself. I love it when they can see the results of their own hard work!
- My little Bug made the Little League All-Star team for his age group. There were 20 kids that tried out, and only 13 made it. Only four of those 13 are nine years old. He's one of them. How cool is that?
- Despite being a teenage boy, who by the very definition is weighed down by loads of testosterone made even more sluggishly heavy in the summer months, Jock still gets up EVERY morning to go to the weight training being provided for the football team. He actually sets his alarm and gets up before I make my trek down the hall to wake him. Why does this impress me so much? Because he's getting up at 5:30 in the morning. How many teenagers do you know of who do that willingly? Especially in the summertime when they KNOW they're supposed to be sleeping?
- Both my boys, every day without fail since I lost my job, have asked me how the search is going. Now, I don't know if they ask because they truly want me to find something, or because they have a pretty good inkling of the financial ugliness right now, or just because they really want me out of the house on a regular basis. The point is, they are asking. Hey! I'll take what I can get when it comes to thinking they are thoughtful little people.
I'm really proud of the fact that even on days I haven't had an interview set up (and in the almost 2 weeks I've been unemployed? There have only been two of those.).... I've managed to shower, brush my teeth and get dressed. Because let's face it.... it would be so much easier and more comfortable to stay in my jammies.
Of course, then I'd stink. And I certainly wouldn't want to be confused with Bug's feet!