Happy 14th to Megan!

I learned when Megan was very small that she was a person who tells it like it is. Do not ask her a question unless you really want to hear her answer. She is wonderful to take shopping if you want to know what is flattering, and what is not. Megan once told me my capri pants looked like something Adam Sandler would wear. After a lecture on cell phone limits she shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't know if you should be the expert on cell phone usage. You grew up in the 90's." As a toddler, she told a friend, "We are NOT going to watch Max & Ruby all day." I remember sitting in the bleachers in Columbia at the Baseball Show-Me games when she hollered at one of Jaron's teammates in the batting circle during the game. She said, "Hey! You need to hang onto the bat with both hands until you finish your swing!" She turned to see me staring at her, threw up her hands and said, "What? I just mean if he wants to hit it better."  She wasn't wrong. Deep down, I sometimes know that I should be upset with some of the statements that come out of her mouth, but I find it refreshing. If you can't tell your mom the truth, who can you tell it to? Honesty wins over being phony with me. Every single time. 

Megan was my tiniest baby. She was born early and weighed almost 2 pounds less than her siblings. She started off small, but anyone who knows her well will tell you everything that matters about Megan is big. From emotions to accessories, she is a go big or go home kind of girl. When I say Megan has big emotions, I mean she feels everything deeply, and she wears her emotion all over her face. I always know how she is feeling whether she is sitting next to me on the couch or standing across the gym from me at a ballgame. She gasps. She sighs. She laughs out loud and makes indescribable sound effects for emphasis. It could be life-changing news or a pink drink from Starbucks. Her reaction will be the same. It is awesome energy to be around. Megan has a quick sense of humor (laced with sarcasm) and will remember your inside jokes forever. She makes me laugh every single day. Her giggle alone is frequent and infectious. While she can get mad and moody like all teenagers, she recovers quickly and forgives freely. Her dance moves are hard to beat and her many accessories always match her outfit. The girl always smells like coconut and vanilla, and she likes to stand up for the underdog. One of the biggest things about Megan might be her heart. She will let people know when she feels that they are not being fair to someone. She empathizes with the people around her and does not like for anyone to be upset. She has been a blessing to our family for 14 years today, and I feel thankful and privileged to be her mom. Happy Birthday, Megan Joleen! We love you BIG! 

The Bracelet - A Basketball Post

There is a bracelet on my wrist. Silicone, Atlanta Blue, and it says "HORNETS." When Jaron was in 4th grade, I sent him to the concession stand to get himself a drink. He came back with it and handed me this bracelet. He said, "Here Mom, I got you something." Never mind that he bought my gift with my own money. He saw this bracelet, knew his mom wears blue on game day, and thought of someone other than himself at nine years old and my heart melted.  

I remember his first little YMCA season when making a basket caused my quiet kid to do a fist pump in the air over his head on the way back down the floor. I knew his basketball career was going to be fun to watch.    

Jaron has had winning seasons and losing seasons. I am not one to really dwell on the numbers and the records.  I think I have always watched basketball a little differently. First of all, I am there to watch the game. Please don't sit by me and ask me lots of questions about what just happened. Less talking, more watching. I want to see everything that is going on out there. The obvious stats have never been the most impressive components of the game to me. I appreciate those things, and of course I cheer for them, but the things I pay attention to the most are difficult to quantify in the score book.  

I like points and rebounds and steals as much as the next girl, but does basketball light my kid up? That is what I like to see. Does my kid have a good attitude out there? Does he do what his coaches ask of him? It is hard to measure respect. I notice the chest bumps with teammates when things are coming together. I see the way Jaron takes every opportunity to hand the ball to the referees when they need it. The way he encourages his teammates when they make a mistake. How do you measure consideration of others? I love walking into the gym on any given game day with the confidence that Jaron will find the open man whenever humanly possible. And set extra screens if he thinks it will help. It is hard to measure selflessness. I love his rebounding efforts in spite of my holding him back from being the height he wanted to be. I can't help being proud of the way coaches have always tended to put him on some of the most challenging opponents when they want that kid to stop scoring...and then that kid stops scoring. It is hard to measure heart. 

Tonight, at the end of his last game, I went to Kevin to draw a little strength. He saw I was starting to struggle and said quietly, "It's just basketball, Val. It's a game."

I nodded. "I know. And my favorite things about watching Jaron play basketball are things he will take with him."

He said, "I know." He gets me. 

I am sad that his basketball career has come to an end. It's not just about falling short in a District Championship game on a cold Friday night. It is the end of an era for us. A decade of sharing events like this with our son and family, his teammates and their families, and the coaches along the way. When you stay in one place for very long you are watching at least a dozen boys grow into young men right along with your own. You celebrate with them. You laugh with them. You encourage them. Sometimes you cry with them. I just want to thank you for all of the memories. What a ride. I have enjoyed watching Jaron play at every age and stage and with every team he has ever been a part of, win or lose. This year, on the front of their team warmup shirts it says, "FAMILY." I am grateful we got to be a part of this Hornet Family.  

Front Row - A Baseball Post

I have been watching Jaron play baseball since he was five. It's funny how watching your kids grow older makes you think more about when they were younger. During this Senior Season, when I look at Jaron out on the baseball field sometimes I can see him at 10 years old with surprising clarity. I made several observations during this Final Fall Baseball season, and it occurred to me that many of them don't really have that much to do with baseball. A mom can see a lot of things when she pulls her chair right up to the fence in the front row.  

I should write about all of the pitches that didn't get by him or the runners he caught stealing. I could tell some stories about his hits and stolen bases and diving head first everywhere he goes. I love watching all of those things. I should definitely mention their Atlanta Tournament Championship. Athletic successes make me happy, but my focus has shifted somewhere along the way and the things that stand out to me the most are different than they used to be.

When Jaron and his classmates were eleven, their coach taught them to tip their hat/helmet to show that they understood the sign he had given them. I always liked the way this gesture ensured everyone was on the same page. Several years and coaches later, all three of them still do that...and I still think it's adorable. 

After a rainy game at home, I watched as Jaron headed out to the flag pole in his catcher's gear. He tucked the flag beneath his chest protector until he delivered it back to the shack in his efforts to keep it out of the rain.

I have had multiple moms and grandmas approach me to tell me how much they appreciate how nice the seniors are to the underclassmen this year. I have seen them pat the freshmen on top of their helmets, put eye black on their faces, and encourage them. I can't get enough of that.  

I noticed this season that when Jaron is catching, he always picks up the bat and hands it back to the opposing team's batter when they come back from hitting a foul ball. It may not seem like a big deal, but it impresses me that he wants to be helpful no matter how hard he has been working behind the plate.  

He says thank you to his grandparents for watching him play. 

I should apologize for all of the bragging, but in twelve years of baseball, I have never seen Jaron be disrespectful to a coach or an official. He has never lost his temper, thrown any of his equipment in  frustration, or yelled anything negative at a teammate. He has been open to playing different positions from an early age, earning the "Most Coachable" award when he was younger. This season alone, he played catcher, first, second, and third bases, centerfield and left field. He has played the remaining three positions in the past. He goes with the flow.

We have shared many memories with teammates, family, and friends over the years and I am grateful for them all. It makes my heart happy to watch him and I will be sad when he is finished playing, but my favorite things about Jaron will stay with him and serve him well as he makes his way in this world throughout life. Adaptability. Kindness. Patience. His ability to stay calm and steady and go with the flow. I really love this guy. I am proud to call him my son and I can't wait to see where life takes him. I hope to pull my chair right up to the fence so I can root for him from the front row. 

For My Senior

In the spirit of recording all of the important moments of your senior year, I have written several blog posts. I wrote about how hard you work when it comes to your classes. I wrote about the beginning of your love story with Cy, and your last softball and last basketball games. Mostly I wrote about how proud I am to be your mom and how confident I am that you will continue to do great things. I had no intention of being finished writing about your last year of high school. I was going to have a hard time with the post about your last track season in Atlanta because of how much you have always loved throwing things. I knew it would be your hardest goodbye relative to sports. That post was going to have a picture of you at the podium at the 2020 Missouri Class 1 State Track Meet. And your college signing with Truman's throwing coach would have warranted a post with several photos. I planned to write about prom...your last one in Atlanta and your first and last one in LaPlata. And graduation. How could I possibly have a blog called Recording the Moments without writing about your high school graduation? We are still holding out some hope that some of these traditions may happen super late, but things are so up in the air right now that nobody can say for sure.

I know your most uncomfortable, anxiety inducing moments in life revolve around the unknown. Situations in which you do not feel confident and comfortable. These experiences have always been difficult for you to enjoy due to the stress they cause you to feel. I remember the tears at your first games (both softball and basketball) and your first piano recital when your panic would not subside until I joined you up front on the piano bench while you played your solo to a church full of parents and grandparents. During your first state track meet, freshman year, I remember how long you stood just outside the gate watching your competitors at the shot put circle before mustering up the courage to step inside for your practice throws. You always overcome the fear though. Last year you walked in like a boss. I am so sorry that your entire life is basically unknown right now. You are putting on such a brave face but I can feel how unsettled you are. I hate every moment you are missing out on that you have been planning on for the last 17 years. Not just the athletic events but all of the things that were going to keep our calendar jam packed over the next two months. Your last end of the year banquets and award nights. Class trips and pranks. Academic bowl and art projects. It is not fair to you and it stinks. It's okay to be sad or mad about the loss of these things. I want you to know I recognize that. 

I found out I was pregnant with you the week after 9/11 happened. Most Americans found themselves reading about the lives lost during those attacks with sorrow and disbelief. I remember telling people about you by saying, "I have some good news to share amidst all of this tragedy..." and deep within me you gave me such joy regardless of what was going on in the world. And that is basically how life goes. I mean, mostly life is amazing, but there are also struggles and hardships and tragedies and things we never could have anticipated. Sometimes you have to look a little deeper for the beautiful things.  This coronavirus reminds me of 9/11. It feels a little like we are being attacked, and I have seen people coming together in ways we see best in the face of adversity. I realize COVID-19 is bigger than senior year.  Nobody knows how many lives will be lost or what the final economical ramifications will be for everyone. I know we are barely getting started with this thing and I don't like the unknown either.

There are a few things I do know in this uncertain time. 1.) I will get some beautiful photos of you in your prom dress with your boyfriend with or without prom. 2.) I will get traditional photos of you in your cap and gown with your diploma whether graduation happens or not.  3.) If you have thrown your last shot put in an Atlanta Hornet uniform, your last throw was your PR that resulted in a state medal around your neck. 4.) Losing this last quarter of school cannot take away the other twelve and a half years of memories you have with your classmates and community. 5.) We will have a party to celebrate your journey to adulthood no matter how long we have to wait to make it happen. 

You started out as a silver lining in an uneasy time and that still holds true today. People are full of sorrow and disbelief once again but I am still excited to think of all of the patients you will help throughout your nursing career. I am looking forward to watching you grow throughout your college years. You have always worked so hard, and I know you always will, so I encourage you to embrace this time of quarantine one day at a time. I admit that I had to take a moment when you sent me your cap and gown photo on your last day of school. It happened to be the same day I had to lay off all of my photographers. So take your moment to mourn what's gone but try not to dwell on what is being taken away from you for too long. Celebrate what you still have. Family, friends, and a community that will always support you. Carry on with your Netflix Parties, Skype, FaceTime, etc., and overcome this thing. When this is all behind us, you will be stronger for it, and you will appreciate all of the beautiful things in your life more than ever before. I just wanted to say hang in there to my senior and to all of the 2020 Seniors. I have every confidence in you and I am pulling for you. 

The Last One - Basketball Edition

I never thought I would be a mom who could keep it together on senior night. I mean, I cried when Madison walked into the gym looking like a princess in a graduation cap in kindergarten. I cried the first time she played a piano solo for a standing room only crowd in our school's Christmas concert when she was ten, and the first time she brought home an Atlanta Hornet jersey in fourth grade because she had chosen my number. I cried a little when she hit a line drive home run ball over the fence in her last District Championship softball game, and when they put a medal around her neck last year at the State Track meet. I have cried when her friends chose to be less than kind to her, and when I took her traditional senior portrait in the velvet drape and she wanted to wear the pearls I got married in.


Several people asked me how I held it together. The truth is, she is really excited about college, and that helps a lot. She loves throwing things and has been looking forward to track getting started. She has been struggling with an ankle injury for a large part of this basketball season and really needs some time to let it heal. It also helped that I didn't let myself dwell on the fact that it was the last game she would play on our home floor. It wasn't her last game ever, so I was able to cope with it well.

Last night she played her last game of basketball. Every athlete knows this day will come but nothing prepares you for how you will feel when the final buzzer sounds. She was double teamed all night long but she played hard and kept working. I think the finality of it all caused more tears than she anticipated. Hugs and kind words from friends and family were good medicine. I managed to stay composed until her coach took her out of the game with seven tenths of a second left for her final exit. Our people stood up and cheered for her for the last time. I may have cried a little. I thought about how Madison has taken everything you are supposed to take from basketball. She won more games than she lost. She played for eight different  head coaches over nine years, and all of them have taken the time to say how much they enjoyed coaching her. She has learned many lessons on commitment, leadership, and being part of a team. Lessons on setting goals and working really hard to achieve them. I always knew when I walked into every one of her games that she would never pout or give up until the final buzzer, and that she would be an unselfish team player. Too many girls can't say that. She was the kind of basketball player who would run through the wall for you. I knew she would hold her ground and not let anyone push her around under the basket, and when she had her hands on a jump ball, she would be the one to hand it back to the referee because nobody was going to take it from her. I loved knowing she would give her best effort. Hustle is one of my favorite things. I love her heart. I have loved watching her play.

As Kevin and I were walking to the car he said, "It wasn't very long from her first game until her last one." Truth. It wasn't very long at all. Madison, thank you for all of the basketball memories we have shared over the years. Thank you for making us proud. Now on to track & FIELD. I can't wait to watch you throw things!   

Senior Sunday - A Letter to Madison

Dear Madison,

Sometimes when you are talking to me I look into your eyes and see such wisdom and maturity that I am shocked by how much time has passed since you made me a mother. Of course, there are other times when you text me asking me to bring you things you have forgotten...like pony tail holders, your warm up shirt,  or your ankle brace and I recognize my little girl again. Being a senior mom is a revolving door of missing the kid you were and looking forward to the woman you will be.

I remember when you were in fifth grade some of the moms of your classmates were freaking out at a basketball game about a science project. It was due that week and there was supposed to be a Power Point presentation and a poster in addition to the project. They were panicked at the looming deadline and how much time they were going to need to help their kids finish it. They felt like it was too much for a student your age. I went home a little worked up and asked you, "What's this I hear about a science project being due this week and why haven't you told me about it?" I remember the surprise in your big, blue eyes as you said, "Well, the project and the Power Point are already done. I just need to finish my poster but it is almost ready."  I said, "Ok. Carry on." And I never questioned you about your homework again.

I know if you have time to work ahead in a class, you will. I know if you miss something you were probably busy with your ninety-five other activities/commitments, and you will be more upset about it than I am. I don't tell you enough how proud I am of your academic work ethic and how much I appreciate not having to hover over you about your grades or school work. I think maybe it is easier to recognize your athletic accomplishments because there are medals and trophies and patches. I just want you to know I see your academic efforts as well. I see it in your grades, your ACT score, and your scholarship offers from all of the colleges we know and a few we haven't even heard of.

When I consider your academic successes there are moments, like the fifth grade science project, that I recall with the utmost clarity. Moments like when you came into my hospital room to meet your baby brother before you were two years old and you were speaking in complete sentences. I remember coaching your team in the Show-Me Games at MIZZOU when you were in fourth grade. I was looking for you to see if you wanted a Gatorade between games. I found you like this, reading Harry Potter with a dozen basketball games going on all around you. I should have known in that moment that your name would hang out on the Principal's Honor Roll list. That you would grow up and get accepted into the nursing program of the Harvard of the Midwest that only takes 50 students out of 200+ applicants.  What I know for sure is that in moments like these, I have always understood with crystal clarity that you would make us proud. And you always have. And you always do. And I know you always will.

About Jaron

I have always said boys are easier to raise than girls. I only have one son, so I am not sure if he makes me an expert on this topic. Maybe Jaron is just a laid back kid and it has nothing to do with his gender. Something I have always said of him is that all he has ever needed to be happy was something to eat and something to do. That hasn't changed much as he has grown. The girls have always been much more vocal over the years, letting their opinions be known relative to friends, wardrobe, accessories, sports, or school. Sometimes they share a little too much information. With Jaron, I challenge you to ask him a question that will require him to answer with anything other than, "Good." Or, "I don't know." On rare occasions when he is in the mood to talk, I always drop what I am doing and stay up as late as necessary to hear everything that is on his mind. I soak up every word and savor them all until the mood strikes him again. Which is actually something I do for his dad as well. 

A funny thing happened while Jaron was growing up. One day he was sitting on my lap asking for a cupcake at a birthday party, and the next I came to the realization that he hadn't been hoarse for weeks because of his allergies. His voice was changing and all of a sudden he started sounding like his dad. I thought I would forget a lot of things from my youth as I got older, but having kids actually triggers some of the most vivid memories. When Jaron takes the baseline to hit a jump shot under the basket it brings back hours of my life that I spent in the bleachers watching his dad do the exact same thing.

I see pieces of myself in Jaron. Our sense of humor is the same. It takes a lot to get us upset, but when we get there it takes a long time for us to forget about it. Mostly I see Kevin in him.He makes me laugh when I am trying to be mad at him. He dribbles a basketball like Kevin did. He smiles his dad's crooked smile and he spends more time watching people than talking to them. They stand the same way. They walk the same. Both of them would rather not be the center of attention. I tried to have an 8th grade graduation party for Jaron, and he was adamantly opposed to the idea. He asked me not to have a cake with his name on it. I suggested a class party for all of them and he was on board with that. The cake said Class of 2022. I think that maybe because he is not a huge fan of attention, I don't blog about him enough so I just want to say how proud I am to be his mom.

Whether it is because he is a boy, or our middle child, or just because he is Jaron, he is by far the most easygoing of our kids. He still requires something to eat on a pretty regular basis. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and it sounds like there is a raccoon in my kitchen. In the morning I will find crumbs from a frozen pizza, an empty muffin pan, or evidence of pancakes or ice cream in the sink.   Although Jaron is a teenager and a head taller than me now, he has never gotten snotty or hateful with me. Sometimes I am caught off guard by his perception of the feelings of those around him. If I am upset, he immediately picks up on it, and it makes him so easy to confide in. Your secrets are definitely safe with him. He reads people with a wisdom beyond his years. He has never been selfish when it comes to sports, and I love the way he never chooses to be a ball hog. He doesn't know how graceful he is on the basketball court. I have never known him to question a game official's call or talk back to a teacher in school. Because Jaron is more private, we always know that when he asks for something it is important to him, or he wouldn't bother bringing it up. When I consider the fact that he doesn't ask for a lot, and I have always been a sucker for big, brown eyes, I have a hard time telling him no. He is the kind of guy who holds his girlfriend's hand and helps her across the parking lot pot holes on the way into a formal dance. He loves basketball, he plays baseball, and he is going to break records in track one day and he doesn't even realize it. I love watching him grow into the man he will become. In fact, I love watching him be the young man that he already is.