He's Decided to Be All That He Can Be

You know how you get caught up in the craziness of life, to the point where you sometimes forget that not everyone is living it with you?  Or how you make so many updates on Facebook, that you neglect the poor blog you started as the original update location?  Well, that's how it's been here. 

The biggest thing right now?  The Teenager enlisted in the Army.

Yes, I know the original plan was the Navy.  But after three attempts to get an ASVAB/AFQT score high enough for them to take him, he decided that maybe they weren't quite the right fit for him.

You will note, however, that he didn't give up altogether. Oh no. Not this boy. Man. Whatever.  No, he just went shopping for the branch that WAS the right fit for him. He found that with the Army. And so he took the physical. Signed the paperwork. Swore the Oath. Chose a career. Received a deployment date for basic training. He made it completely official.

My starter baby is leaving me in just a few short months. He is leaving me, to go learn how to protect and defend all of you. 

And I honestly believe I just may be more proud of him for this decision that I would have been if he had received a full-ride athletic scholarship to the college of his dreams. Well, if he'd ever dreamed of colleges and not the military.  Apparently, he IS going to be living his dream. Or at least, setting forth on the path towards it. Regardless, I AM so ridiculously beyond proud of him.

This may sound silly, but it occurs to me that this is one more thing in his life that we get to do together: learn to be Army Strong.  He as a soldier; me as a soldier's mom.

This is what he will be spending a very large chunk of his time in. Only, you know, a real tank that's not made out of Legos. 

Perspective Makes All The Difference

Every year, it’s the same battle.


A battle with the school, to make sure his 504 Plan is reevaluated and updated. A battle with the teachers, to hold them accountable for following his 504 Plan. A battle with Bug, to actually do the homework we’ve gotten accommodations for.

Then compound all of that with sports.

Every year, it’s been a lot of the same thing. At the beginning of each season, I meet with his coaches and explain what makes Bug…Bug. I offer advice on what works best, and what doesn’t, in keeping him calm and upbeat. I give each coach a run-down on the physical signs to watch for, in order to better ward off the emotional breakdown that follows each one.

This year, though? This year is going to be different.

For starters, Bug told me at the beginning of the school year that he didn’t want to use his 504 Plan this year. And although he wasn’t able to convince me to give the thing up entirely, he did make some valid contributions to this year’s modifications. When pressed for why he didn’t want to use it? He’s just tired of being treated differently. He wants so badly to fit in, just the way he is.

Now, I would like to say that I’m such a fabulous mother that I instantly realized that I should apply that same logic to baseball. However, apparently I’m a little bit slower than instant.

Bug IS on a new baseball team. We’ve known the coach and a couple of the boys for some years now, and we’ve always been impressed. This coach is amazing, and has a definite affinity for working with young athletes. Plus, he lives and breathes baseball, so he knows what he’s talking about when he directs them. So when an opportunity came up for Bug to try out for this team, we jumped at it. And Bug made the team. (This is where my new found knowledge would have kicked in. You know, had I actually been able to claim it.) As I said, we already knew this coach. So there was no need for the “conversation”. We didn’t need to give him any pointers; he knows my kid well.

So I sat back, and watched. Watched how Bug interacted with the other boys on the team, and how they interacted back. Watched how he played, and how he handled himself when something in the game wasn’t going his way. And even though I could see how well he was doing, how much his self-esteem had improved, how much greater his self-control had gotten…well, it wasn’t until he made this comment to me that things started to click in my head.

Mom, you know why I like this team so much? I fit in. Just the way I am; I fit in. No one is pushing me to see how far they can go before I lose it, and they all just encourage me. I fit, Mom.

And yes, I cried at that.

But my true A-ha! moment came last night. Bug had been called by another team in our club, and asked to fill in for one game. The manager of this team has also known Bug for years. The difference, though, is that ALL of the other boys on the team have also known Bug for years. Which means they’ve all witnessed at least one very public meltdown during a game. The significance of that finally sunk in last night. Or, more accurately, the significance of the fact that almost NONE of the boys on his actual team had ever met him before August.

In a normal game, each of Bug’s teammates can be heard at various times in the game cheering him on or shouting some kind of encouragement; all based on that game’s performance and how awesome they all believe him to be. Last night was different. Oh, the boys on that team all encouraged him, it was just…not the same. Last night was more like how I used to encourage him when he was younger. “Keep your head up! Don’t let it get you down!”

It occurred to me last night that maybe one of the biggest reasons he’s doing so well on this new team and making such strides in mastering his self-control? Is that not one person on that field is waiting for him to fail.

They’re excited about watching him succeed.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation....

Okay, so school technically started about three weeks ago. And fine, I'm not even the one in school. Whatever.  I'm still going to uphold the fine tradition of English teachers across the nation, and write about my summer vacation. 

My starter baby, my fake-it-til-you-make-it introduction to parenting, graduated from high school. After a lot of late night anguish over homework, stomach aches over girlfriends, Snoopy happy dances because of football games and track meets, and more tears than can ever be counted. And all of that was on my part! But we got him there.

And then he had the nerve to turn 18. He's a big boy now, and able to make big boy choices. And apparently able to withstand big boy pain.  After several years of talking about it, many design and design alterations; after getting my solemn pinkie promise to not only go along with him, but to get one of my own; I celebrated the 18th anniversary of 18 hours of hard labor-the worst pain imaginable (well, had I not been under the most awesome influence of a superb epidural!) by getting a tattoo with the Teenager.

 
My baby, my Bug, decided that this would be a perfect time to venture into his own teenage-hood. He turned 13 this year. I'm still not sure he's telling me the truth about his birthday. I mean, I was there for his birth. And I'm certain it happened only a few short years ago.

This was also the summer I got to remember being 18 again. My 20-year high school reunion. As corny as it sounds, it truly was like no time at all had passed. I walked into the room, squealed when I saw my favorite people on the planet from 20 years ago, ran into hugs that simply defined Best Hug Ever, and the last 20 years melted off of each of us. And in my case? 100 pounds went right along with it.  I could pretend, for 72 hours, that I was just as I was then. Fortunately, my friends went right along with that alternate reality. There is a reason I love them.

And while that experience may be the highlight of my trip home this summer, it can possibly be topped by the journey there and back. Road trip with my boys!! We spent 14 hours, each direction, laughing and singing along in the car. We talked, about girls and life after high school. And we argued over who got to eat the last licorice rope. Had that stubborn Teenager not cheated by sticking them all in his mouth and sliding them back out again, covered in his slimy germs? I totally would have won that argument, too.

Back home again, and time was running out. We still had so much to do, and not a lot of time left.  In true-to-myself fashion, Bug and I fulfilled one of my promises to him in the Go Big or Go Home style we try to embrace here. He had been begging me to dye his hair purple since before school even got out in the spring. Finally, as I was wandering the hair color aisle at the grocery store, fate smiled upon my boy. Fate in the form of the ONLY box of purple hair coloring left on the shelf.  Only after I got it home and in his hair did I check to make sure it was a temporary dye, and is supposed to come out completely after about 24 shampoos. I'm not entirely sure he's using shampoo every morning in the shower, as there is still quite a bit of purple still in there.

And finally, we came to the end of our summer. School started in three days. Was there even time to fit anything else in? Honestly....who did they think they were dealing with?

Night Ranger. Foreigner. Journey.  We saw them all in one night. No matter that the boys really had no idea who Night Ranger was. That portion of the concert was really more for me. But when Journey took the stage? Both my boys (and a couple of extra teenagers I'd picked up for the fun! Mouse and another friend of the Teenager's) were on their feet for the entire set, dancing and air-guitaring their way through song after song. In the rain, because is there a better way to enjoy lawn seats to an amazing concert?

I don't think I realized just how amazing my summer truly was, until just this moment. It was so .... full .... and I didn't even talk about Bug's last All Star baseball experience (beyond amazing!), or the soul-soothing visit with my own mama while I was home for my reunion.

Oh! And did I mention I got a fabulous new haircut?

Huh. Maybe all of those English teachers really do know what they're doing when they ask for these essays, after all.

My Thursday Night Was Awesome....How Was Yours?

I Know Every Mama Says It, But In My Case...It's True

I've always believed that I have awesome boys.  A lot of that belief is just being a mama, because I'm sure at some point, someone else has NOT believed I have awesome boys.  And although I try to be all that is nice and friendly on a near-constant basis (Shush! Yes, you...shush! That includes YOU...shush! I am nice.), I have to point out that those someone elses that don't believe I have awesome boys? Well, they're just wrong.

In the week since Coach has been gone (and I'm doing better than I think anyone gave me credit for, thankyouverymuch.....but check back with me next week. Could be a different story...), the amount of stepping up that my boys have done is just .... cool. 

No more arguments about bedtime. (I just go when I want to... haha!) 
Dishes just seem to get done, no procrastination witnessed.
Dogs get fed. Actual dog food, not just what they find left out on the coffee table.

I tell you, it's awe-inspiring.

The Teenager, though....now HE'S really impressive.  With dad gone, we figured Bug would feel it the most. After all, much like I've been the constant in the Teenager's athletic life, dad's been Bug's. He's been coach and private instructor, cheerleader and feedback-giver.  And he's been to EVERYTHING.  Now, all of a sudden, he's not there. So yeah, we know he's going to feel that absence a little stronger than the Teenager will. 

But.....

The Teenager is picking Bug up from track practice after school. He's taking him to baseball practice, and sticking around to watch and help out. He's at every game, cheering him on. He's the first one to reach him after the game, to congratulate or commiserate. He's making sure Bug eats before games and practices. And he's cut wayyyy back on deliberately picking arguments with his little brother. (Can't give up EVERYTHING fun, can he?)

As an added bonus to what I know to the depths of my soul is a great kid? He decided to make dinner the other night. He planned it, he made sure the main course was thawed the correct way.  He even waited to tell me about it until he discovered he couldn't just surprise me, although he did plan on having it ready when I got home from work.  And before you think it was just something easy like ramen or Shells-n-cheese, allow me to impress you. Grilled salmon, Parmesan pasta, and veggies.

We are going to gloss right over the debacle with the bad charcoal that would never light, necessitating informing me of his plans so that he could ask me for money to go to the store for good charcoal that would light; and we're going to ignore the part where he was playing with fire around that bad charcoal that would never light, which ended up in some asteroid sized sparks flying around with a smaller one landing on his favorite shorts, burning a little hole in them. We'll also turn a blind eye to the part where mom ended up texting dad with a picture of the grill, trying to make sure there was enough charcoal in there; there wasn't, so I added some. No, what we'll do is get straight to the end result.  A fabulously tasty meal of grilled salmon.

Perfectly grilled, I might add.

Awesome. Just Awesome.

• Check in at the Greyhound satellite terminal located about 25 minutes from our house. 
• Find out that this trip includes a four hour layover. At a terminal located only an additional 20 minutes from our house.
• Get on the stupid bus anyway, because that's how transportation was arranged and there was no way to just skip this step and catch up with the bus in four and a half hours.
• Finally, after hanging out for hours at the second terminal, get started on the road!
• Thirty minutes later, wouldn't you know it? The A/C on the bus pukes out. Can't be fixed quickly, so onward it rolls; no air. For the remaining seven hours of the trip.

And that, my friends? Is how Coach began this new adventure he's on. This adventure called A NEW JOB!!!  Yes, after two years of being unemployed, my man is working again!!!  This bus ride took him to three weeks of training, for a job that will have him gone wayyyy more than he's home. But....A JOB!! There are times and situations in life that you just have to deal with something sucky because it gets you to other things that aren't sucky. This is one of them. Coach not home=sucky. Being able to afford things like graduation (ugh--there's that word again!), gas for the car and air conditioning for the house in the hotter-than-the-fires-of-hell summer of Arizona=NOT sucky.  So? We deal.

Big big BIG thank yous to everyone of you who prayed for us, kept your fingers crossed, sent positive energy our way, and danced naked under the moon. It paid off, and means more to us than you'll ever know.

I'd say let's all stop with the naked moon dancing now, except I've found it's rather enjoyable. I might, however, save it for those four nights a month Coach will actually be home.

This was taken ON the craptastic bus ride. Looks like fun, right?

WooHoo!

As a parent, you face a lot of "firsts" as you go along. First words. First steps. First chin hair. (For your son; although it's totally realistic to count your own, too.) First girlfriend. First serious girlfriend. First, no-I-really-mean-it-this-time serious girlfriend.  Have you ever stopped to think, just for a minute, that you really only focus on the firsts that come from your kids? 

I didn't. Not until I heard that the daughter of a childhood friend of mine is now expecting a baby.  That's when it hit me. I had managed to completely avoid a major parental first.

I am NOT the first of my friends to become a grandma.

That one thought made me smile for HOURS.  Seriously. Hours. 

Sometimes it truly is the little things in life, isn't it?

Look! Something Shiny!

Can you hear me squealing all the way from Arizona?  And no, that is not a class ring that I'm squealing over.

That, my friends, is the STATE TRACK CHAMPIONSHIP RING that my teenaged baby earned in the spring!

I'd love to be full of words here, but I'm just not. I can't keep myself from scrolling back up every third word or so and looking at that ring all over again. Go ahead...YOU do it. It's addicting.

Of course, that might just be me. After all, I'm oozing "proud mama" right now.

Is that contagious?

Hosted by Cecily and Lolli

It's Like Stopping to Smell the Roses....Only They're Sweaty, Stinky Boys

Laughing so hard there were tears and stomach cramps. Smiling so much that cheeks hurt. Silly faces, bunny ears, and hanging hair.  This was how I spent my evening tonight, under the guise of taking random pictures of me and my boys.

There was even that scary moment when you realize your bladder is the same age you are, only bladder years are somewhat like dog years so it's actually much older and has the alarming potential to simply stop practicing any sort of control whatsoever.

I won't get many more of these night as my boys get older. Not with both of them at the same time, certainly.

Totally worth the bladder scare.




Hosted by Cecily and Amy

He Knows I Can't Cook, But He Stuck Around Anyway

There are many things I've learned over the last seventeen years. Things about myself, things about those closest to me, and things about life in general. For example, did you know that despite it being one of the most annoying things on the planet, you won't actually die if you have to fix the toothpaste tube because someone squeezed from the middle rather than from the end like rational people do? Even if you have to fix it Every. Stinkin'. Morning for seventeen years? That would be 6,205 mornings. That is a lot of mornings, yes. But you still won't die from doing it.

I've also learned that there are people out there who find an enormous amount of humor and enjoyment in doing things like changing the way the toilet paper will come off the roll (God really does want it to come off the top, not from the bottom. Trust me.), purposely reaching over and snagging your pillow for the sole purpose of heating it up knowing you prefer it nice and cool when you lay on it for the first time each night, and not adjusting the driver's seat of your vehicle back to your preferred settings after they've driven it.

I've also learned that no matter how many children you have, or how good you might be at parenting them, being a good parent does not equate with being a good spouse. So I've learned to never stop working at either job. I've learned that it's okay to hide in the bathroom with a book for thirty minutes, and that it's also okay to tell everyone else that they need to go be by themselves for thirty minutes.

I have learned that there is a lot of changes that can happen to a body in seventeen years, but that looking at someone through a love-covered lens enables you to see nothing but someone's heart. And that in seventeen years, those hearts are always evolving and growing with you.

In the past seventeen years, I've learned that his squeezing the tube of toothpaste wrong, warming up my pillow for me, switching the toilet paper direction and leaving my seat at his settings are things that won't change. And that's okay. Because I've learned that he's figured out that my hairspray overspray, unshaven legs for a week (and if we're being honest here? Sometimes a *bit* longer), my habit of leaving my recently finished books wherever I was sitting when I finished them and my apparent inability to cook anything that is not pasta very well are things that in all probability will never change about me.

We've learned that in seventeen years together, we're just where we most want to be. With the person we most want to be there with.  We have learned that we're in this marriage together.  We've learned that we're able to grow together into the people we want to be.

Seventeen years is a long time to be married. It's a long time to be committed to someone, confident beyond all doubt that you have spent the last seventeen years with exactly the RIGHT someone. But if we haven't learned any single other thing, we HAVE learned that we are EXACTLY the right someone for each other.

Happy 17th Anniversary, Coach. I adored you then, I've grown with you in the years since, and I love you absolutely, deeply and completely now.

There Is Victory In Defeat

Tonight is definitely a very bittersweet night.

You all remember that Thursdays are game nights around here, right? And maybe you've picked up on the little part where we've won every game this season? Oh, and last season. And the season before that. Yeah, two years (plus) undefeated.

Until tonight. Tonight, we lost our first game in over two seasons. And that, my friends? Was a bitter pill to swallow for those boys who have been on each of these undefeated teams. We lost not because we were up against a better team, although that might be possible. No, we lost because, quite simply, we did not play like a winning team. It doesn't matter that there were a handful of boys who played their hearts out. A team is more than just those handful of boys. And when parts of the team fall apart, the whole of the team suffers. And so we lost the first high school football game since we started high school.

Have you ever witnessed anything more heartbreaking than 16 and 17 year old boys walking off the field in tears? Tears. Unashamed, unembarrassed, heartfelt heartbreak.

BUT. And you knew there'd be a "but", right?

Jock was the last player off the field tonight. He walked off with the coaches and headed into the locker room. When he came out, there was something just a bit different about him.

He had a pair of purple football pants around his neck.

Let me explain the significance of that. The Freshman and JV teams do not wear purple football pants. No. Purple football pants are worn by one team only at this school. The Holy Grail of teams. The Varsity.

Once again, based on his performance alone and not because of anything else, my boy has earned a spot on that holiest of teams. He isn't up there just because he's a Junior. He isn't up there just because he played on the coaches Pee Wee league teams for years. No. He's going up there because he's EARNED a spot. And so tomorrow, we will be playing under those revered Friday Night Lights.

And that, my friends? Is the sweet part.

Hosted by Cecily and Linds

Definitions Are Subjective Sometimes

Every family has them. Every person has something that could probably be termed as such. They can be shared between friends. Large groups of people, small groups, or even just a couple of people could have them. I'm talking about Traditions.

Our family has several. Many of which I have to fight constantly to keep, as at least one of the men in my life at any given time is just not cooperating with what I need to remain emotionally balanced. But there are some that everyone enjoys, everyone looks forward too, and they are just absorbed seamlessly into our lives.

Jock and I have just such a tradition. It's one that he will outgrow, as it can only last as long as high school does. But it's one that I hope will mean enough to him that it becomes something he does with his child eventually. We started this his freshman year, and have just continued on, right up through tonight. After every game, when he's climbed off the team bus and climbed into my truck; when it's just the two of us, we go grab a burger and talk about the highlights of his game. His highlights of the game. And I really believe he looks forward to this tradition as much as I do. A text conversation tonight proves it. (Well, at least it does to me; I HAVE been known to "find" validation in just about anything if it suits me. But, it's my kid, my feelings and my blog. Work around it if it bothers you.) **

Jock: So, Mom, since you love me so much....where are you taking me for dinner when we get to the school?
Me: Anywhere you want, as long as it's close to home!
Jock: Cool. Thanks.
Me: I love you, you know that. Besides, it's sorta become our tradition to go grab a burger after your games.
Jock: This is true. Cool.

See? So it goes without saying (except, um... I'm saying it, apparently) that this is one of those traditions that just .... happen. With no eye rolling, whining or gnashing of teeth.

Who said traditions had to be traditional?

**Okay, so I edited his "text-speak" just a bit. For the purposes of your understanding what the heck he was saying. I'm sure you understand.

***Oh, and? For the curious out there, we WON the game tonight. And? Jock had the final score of the game, with a 60 yard carry. Fun fact about this? The final score of our team, that the touchdown that Jock scored to get to that number? Was the exact number as his jersey. Freaky? Or just plain cool? You decide for yourself; but we thought it was AWESOMELY COOL!

An Exception To The Terrible Two's

We've reached Toddlerdom! Well, my blog has at any rate.

What an amazing two years it's been, too! I've made new friends (even some that live in the same state as I do; and I promise we will actually meet in person one of these days!) and I've convinced some old ones to jump on board the blogging bandwagon with me. I've ranted and rambled, had my heart broken and my spirits lifted. I've learned a lot about my children and my husband, and even a little about myself.

When I started this blog, I thought I wanted to make sure it grew enough to have around the same number of comments each day as some of my favorite bloggers. I was convinced that all it would take was a little bit of social networking (HA! I soon found that there is no such thing as a "little" social networking.... that is bigger monster than I ever realized, and has the potential to totally suck me into it to the extent I do nothing else!), and I'd be such a wonderfully popular blogger! So I joined Twitter and Plurk, and became a little comment'aholic on everyone's blog I read, hoping they'd come comment on mine.

Um, yeah. That didn't work out so well. My average number of comments daily are about 4. Sometimes more, but more often not. And in my first year, half of all my comments were my own replies, so I'm not sure they really even count. So I learned not to rely on comments to tell me how I was doing. (Although it would be so nice if everyone who follows me or subscribes to me in a reader would leave me a "hey, how are you? Love the blog!" comment. That would take the commenting burden off the three of you who have taken on the responsibility of making sure my ego is fed appropriately!)

I have also come to accept that despite the fact that one of the reasons I started writing this blog was so that our family and friends who don't see us every day could keep up with our lives, and see what my boys look like from year to year; the only people who read this are people who didn't know us before the blog started! I can't be entirely certain, mind you; but I don't think either my mother or Coach's mother have read a post in several months. Maybe longer.

It's taken me two years, but I've come to a conclusion about this blog. This blog is not for our family or friends. It's not so my boys can look back on it and see themselves through my eyes, although that is a wonderful side benefit. It's not even so that Coach can see the boys through my eyes. No, I have come to one single, solitary conclusion.

I write this blog.... for me. So that I can remember who I am; a daughter, a friend, a wife and a mother. I am creative and sarcastic, irreverent and sentimental. I can still laugh at myself, and cry with those I love. But most of all, I am me.

And that? Really just isn't so bad anymore.

Lessons Learned On A Road Trip

*I posted this on Facebook recently, but wanted to share it here, too!*

When taking a road trip (which, for today, is defined as any trip taken in a motor vehicle that is over 150 miles away; with the only en route scenery being cacti and circling hawks) that culminates in a fantabulous visit with spectacular friends, there are some things you should remember:

--When in the car, the only music allowed is your FAVORITE, which is usually what your kids don't want to listen to. Good thing you're by yourself!

--When the "Service Engine Soon" light start flashing, don't call your husband to ask if he thinks you should get your oil changed when you get to your destination. He'll just tell you that you're too far away for him to help, and you shouldn't worry until it stops flashing and stays lit. Of course, then it stops altogether and you feel stupid for even calling him in the first place.

--Try to remember that even though the interchange you need to take doesn't LOOK like it's going West that the sign people and highway asphalt layers knew what they were doing; so it really IS going West and you shouldn't have to pass it just to turn around and take it.

--After you've arrived at your destination and get settled in for a nice long visit at the pool, when your hostess suggests sunscreen... USE IT. Sunburns on cleavage and thighs are no fun at all.

--When at the local Wally World, and it is suggested you buy aloe vera because you oh-so-confidently ignored your hostess' earlier advice.... BUY IT. Again, sunburns on cleavage and thighs are no fun at all.

--Don't put your drink within range of the guitar handle when playing bass on Rock Band. Especially if you are really feelin' the groove and moving around.

--Try not to laugh so hard you forget how to breathe and your chest seizes up when your friend discovers she's put her drink within range of the guitar handle and she's feelin' the groove that only the B52's can provide. 'Cuz that sunburn still hurts when you're clapping your hand to your chest because in some small recess of your brain you think that will jump start the breathing again.

--When making the return road trip home, consider that it might not be the best idea to combine a 5-Hour Energy Shot with a large box of Gobstoppers and 44 ounces of Diet Coke. Yes, you will remain awake for the 3.5 hour drive home; but your stomach will be extremely unhappy with you.

--Border Patrol stops are not scary..... especially when you have no one in the car with you and you answer correctly and promptly when asked if you're a citizen!

And finally, when you do finally arrive back home and have slathered all of your sunburned parts with aloe, be sure to tell your spectacular friends what a fantabulous time you had!

"If You Can Read This, Thank A Teacher"

It always amazes me what a difference a year can make. As long as I've been a parent, that particular passage of time has fascinated me. So many people look at the month of January for reflection and self-assessment; wondering how their lives will improve or just be different for the next 12 months.

Me? I've figured out that I apparently go through this in July.

The start of the school year always has me just a little on edge, worrying about how the boys will do as they move ahead. And as each year passes I see how different they are from each other, thereby giving me SEPARATE worries. Will Jock continue to struggle, as he has every year? Breaking my heart just a little more each time? Will this be the year that Bug can make a friend and keep him, without that friend getting fed up with not understanding how to be friends with Bug? So as we rolled into the end of July, I started looking back over the last twelve months. How did the last school year go?

As Jock and I were headed up to Back To School night last night, we were talking about the classes on his schedule, the teachers he'll have, and the sports he'll play. I actively participated in that discussion, but I'm one of those people who will revisit a conversation several times over the next few days. I'm glad I did this time, as I've reached a couple of Holy Crap! revelations.

~~ This is the first year I'm not over-concerned about Jock juggling two sports at the same time as well as his schoolwork. Last year, he proved to me and to himself that he knows how to prioritize and how to study. At the start of the year, getting him to sit down to do his homework was about as easy as teaching my dog to dance on his front paws. Theoretically, it could happen; but not likely. However, by the end of the year, he was finishing assignments on time, and projects early. AND playing baseball.

~~ He has discovered that he enjoys learning. Oh, not all things. But more than he thought he would. Last year, he found himself taking a World History class with a fairly young, fairly new-to-teaching teacher. Jock loved every stinkin' minute of that class. He gives full credit to that teacher for supporting him, believing in him, and making class fun. He maintained an A-B average all year long in that class, which is HUGE for him. This year? He got the same teacher for U.S. History. He was so amazingly excited about that, he even admitted it to the teacher! Better yet? He has the confidence in himself to believe he'll get good grades in this class this year. This teacher has no idea what he has done for my son. He made learning something Jock actually wants to do, and I will never be able to repay him.

~~ He is excited about his Geometry class, and it's all because of the teacher he has.

Those are just a couple of examples. But what made it all stick in my mind was the comment he made as we were finishing up our conversation.

"I can't wait for school to start, Mom."

I am so hopeful for this year, now. New year, new beginnings. Who says they can only happen in January?

Wilbur Got A Bad Rap

Have you ever heard anyone remark on the intelligence level of pigs (actual curly-q tailed, no preservatives, pre-processing pork)? If I have, I don't remember it. But I think they may be pretty darn smart.

My little corner of the desert, being hotter than the backyard of Hades this time of year, has an annual tradition called Monsoon Madness. The town takes over a local park and erects water slides and other water features to play in, mud volleyball pits, and a giant mudslide. There is so much mud that even if you are not on one of the volleyball teams or actually going down the mudslide, you STILL end up with mud on your clothes. There are children of all ages running around this park, literally covered from head to toe in slimy, oozy mud.

Slimy, oozy COOL mud. Which is spectacularly awesome on a day where you are once again facing temperatures above 110 degrees.

Last weekend it was time for Monsoon Madness; and Bug found himself swept up in the fever. So while Jock couldn't see any good reason to wallow in the mud and so stayed home, Bug and I headed off to the park. Where he, many many times, would go down that ginormous mud slide only to run to the other end of the park and clean off by sliding down the slip and slide. Only to go tearing back down to the other end of the park to go down that mud slide again.

So while I found myself a nice chair in the shade by the giant mister fans, talking to the mom of one of his friends (because really? What else is there for a mom to do after getting splashed with mud your first time standing anywhere close to the mudslide?), Bug had the time of his life.

Pigs must be pretty darn smart. And I bet they have the most fantastically fun times!

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No Pressure. Really.

There are many defining moments in life as a mother, and certainly some as life as a mother of an athlete. Twenty-five years ago, such moments were generally documented simply by being present in the stands, and maybe--maybe--if you were a really ambitious mother, written in a diary or journal somewhere. Or maybe you would have just jotted down scores and key points on the back of a ticket stub or program. Today, most of your defining moments are caught on some form of visual media: cell phone recording for possibly posting to a website, the timeless video recorder, or just a simple camera--whether digital or actual film. And today, your truly ambitions mothers scrapbook or blog, being sure to include those pictures.

Apparently, I am only somewhat ambitious. Or possibly only somewhat good at documenting these defining moments. I mean, sure... I blog about the events that are shaping my boys' athletic lives. But the pictures? Not really appearing so often here, are they?

Last week, Jock gave me one such defining moment. My boy, the one who doesn't get nearly the chances he wants to get because high school sports are ridiculously political, hit a home run in his baseball game. Not just any home run, though. Oh no. He hit a rarely-seen-in-the-pros-let-alone-in-high-school GRAND SLAM!

And why is this a defining moment for me, as opposed to a moment for him, you might be asking? Well, because this moment, this rare, spectacular moment; was not documented at all. I failed to bring the camera with me to the game that day. The only picture I got from that beauty of a hit came AFTER we got home, and I let the ball out of my hands long enough to set it on the counter.

It is truly a beautiful ball, and now sits on our trophy shelf. Where I have jotted down the score and the date, right on the leather. Apparently my love of the early 80's is reflected in more than my taste in music. It's in the way I document the moments of my kids' lives, too.

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I Think I Might Thank Steven King

Take a look at these grades:

72.8% C- Algebra 1
89.1% B World Studies
100.0% A+ Advanced Weights
70.3% C- Biology
84.1% B Spanish 1
82.1% B- English 10


First, I want to say how awesome I think it is that I get these emailed to me every day. Every.Day. These came today. I can keep constant tabs on this kid's grades, and I can skip the middle man. No more trusting that he's telling me the entire truth, and waiting to see if he's right at midterms and final report cards. Gone are the days when he could tell me he had all of his homework turned in, since this tells me exactly what the assignments were, and which ones may be missing. There is no more distracting me from the question, by talking about football or baseball practice. Oh no. Everything's there for me to see, and I even get notes from the teachers and direct links to their email addresses for my convenience. I love it.

But what I love even more than all of that are the actual grades. Look at those grades, people!

Now, I realize that some of you are maybe sitting there, wondering why on earth I'm so freaking ecstatic over those grades. After all, there's only one A in the bunch, and its his weights class, so that A is all but guaranteed. I know, I know. Most parents don't get excited and proud over C's and B's. But those of you who've been with me for a while will remember that my boy struggles, and struggles hard, with these classes. Of those five other classes, four of them are a constant struggle for him. In fact, the only time he sees A's in those classes are the first few days of a new semester. But, oh! How he works. He pushes and pushes and pushes himself to do better. Not just to stay eligible for the team, but because he's smart enough to know that all the talent in the world won't get you anywhere if you can't back it up with something else. He knows he's got to prove that he's worth the chance a college might extend to him.

And I know that all of this studying is reaching something else in him; something beyond the athlete. How do I know this? Because of this:



A few days ago, he went with me to a Little League board meeting being held at the local library. While there, he went and got himself his own library card and checked out a book. Not a book about sports, although I wouldn't question that or think that was a bad idea. Not a study guide book. Not even a small, less than 200 page book. No. He checked out a fairly recent release by Steven King. Hardcover, and just about three or four inches thick. And then he sat his little self down and started reading. He didn't even wait until we got home and he could hide in his room, where no one ever witnesses anything. So naturally I pulled out my (admittedly fairly craptastic quality) camera phone, and snapped the moment for proof. Right after I stopped grinning like a fool; and I suspect I might have had tears in my eyes, I'm not sure.


Reminding me once again why I think it's all worth it. I really love my kids. And I'm so proud of them.




Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Football 11, Sports Mama 1

This was Week 12 of the regular football season. Some of you might not know this; others of you not only know it, but could quote me stats from the season to date. Today, it doesn't matter which category you fall into. Because today Coach did something that pretty much guaranteed he would be able to enjoy our upcoming 16th anniversary with me.

I had to go inspect some new properties today for work, as I missed a few days last week. (Stupid allergic reaction to the antibiotic left my arms and legs numb....and as um, interesting?, as it was to drive that way it was somewhat dangerous. And I wasn't feeling like living on the edge of danger this week.) These properties, while a little under an hour from my office, are well over that from my house. I was looking at a road trip from one end of our Valley to the other. Literally. It was definitely going to be an all day event. Coach decided he wanted to go with me.

But...??? It's Sunday. Um, football is on. ALL DAY. Did he realize I wasn't going to be home? ALL DAY. Seriously, dude. ALL DAY.

Yep. And it will be FUN.

So off we went. Leaving the boys at home. (And I don't know if it's sad or just amusing that not only did we not hear from them for hours, we didn't notice that lack of communication.) We left the house at somewhere near ten in the morning, and headed on our journey. Our first stop? Mervyn's. What? It's the last 6 days of the big Going Out of Business sale. And? It was his idea. Why would I argue with that? Besides, Bug got a cool Christmas gift out of that stop. Also? It was kind of strange shopping in a store where even the fixtures are for sale. Who needs a mirrored floor to ceiling pillar, anyway?

From there it was off to Circuit City. Who, coincidentally enough is also going out of business here in the Valley. Sadly, offering nothing better than 30% off (and no store fixtures, either, which by this point was disappointing), we walked out of there with only some photo paper for the printer. (Remember these pictures? Well, we need photo paper for that project.) Finally! We were headed out to do my property inspections. And we had only detoured by about an hour or so.

We stopped at my office for lock boxes, and stopped by another house I manage which I've been telling Coach about, and he wanted to see it. (GORGEOUS house.... 4 bedroom/3.5 bath main house with a separate 1 bed/1 bath guest house out back, and more amenities than I could possibly list here! I'm telling you... absolutely stunning house!) And then we were off to the first new house. Where we met a couple of the neighbors, one of whom was quick to inform me that the neighborhood was trying to keep the age limit of the area up, so could I please not rent to families with children? Seriously, dude? After pointing out to him that Federal Fair Housing laws made that particular practice ILLEGAL, and I wished the neighborhood luck with that particular venture, he got frustrated and walked back to his front porch, where he stood until Coach and I drove off.

And stopped for lunch on our way to the next house. At this point, as boring as this day is probably sounding, I was having a ball. I was having so much fun with him that I started to feel guilty. After all, I was keeping him away from his beloved football today. Wanna know what he said?

Today? Honey, today... football doesn't matter. You matter.

We ended up being gone for almost 8 hours today. And it might have been because the Redskins game wasn't televised. It might have been because I kept the car radio tuned to the current game. But for one day; one day that should have been uneventful but instead turned out to be so very much more; for this one day......

I was more important than football.

And that, more than anything else he could have done or said, makes me believe that after 16 years together, through various levels of marital hell, he loves me.

He.Loves.Me.

We Witnessed The Great One, And Satan Was Ejected

Disclaimer: By the time we got home, I got everyone off to bed, got the pictures uploaded to the computer, and sat down to write this....it was too late to want to start editing pictures. So... you get them unedited. Live with it.

A couple of weeks ago, one of the parents of one of the boys on Coach and Bug's football team gave us tickets to tonight's Phoenix Coyotes hockey game against the Pittsburgh Penguins. (I still find it funny that my first thought upon receiving these tickets wasn't how awesome it would be to be able to go to a hockey game again. No. My first thought was how awesome it would be to be able to tell one of my favorite moms about it. I wonder if I'm blogging too much?) Knowing that we are a sports family, it should come as no great shock that we were all totally stoked to go to this game.

Well, we all were until we were driving to the arena tonight and Coach felt it was his sworn duty to make sure the boys watched the game at all times. Coach, in all his paternal wisdom, reminded the boys that hockey pucks have been known to fly over the plexiglass wall. And kill people. Kill them completely dead. (Did I mention that our seats were RIGHT BEHIND THE PENALTY BOX? No? Well, we were only five small rows off the ice! Awesome seats!!)

Bug spent most of the first period freaked out that the guys on the ice were going to just randomly slap that puck so hard it flew over and smacked him in the head. Great. Thanks, Dad. But then a hockey miracle happened. It started with Bug just sitting up on the edge of his seat watching the game. Then he started cheering a few individual players. Then he'd get really excited when the Coyotes did something great, and groan when the Penguins did. And then the Coyotes scored the first goal. That kid jumped up and cheered! By the second period, he'd started calling out to the ice, begging for some serious checking to happen, and everytime they's slam into the wall in front of us, I'd hear Yes! Awesome!

By the middle of the third period, he was standing up, turning to the crowd, and with his hands cupped around his mouth for maximum sound projection, was chanting Let's Go Coyotes! He was generously high-fiving everyone around us when our boys would score, and looking at me just long enough to remind me This is AWESOME, Mom!

The truly awesome part? Watching this kid get so wrapped up in the game he forgot to worry about a Random Puck Death.

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