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.               

The Last One - Softball Edition

When Madison was four years old I signed her up to play Iddy Biddy Ragball at the YMCA. I couldn’t wait to get her started playing ball. When her first game rolled around, she cried. She was so scared and unsure of herself that she needed someone to hold her hand and lead her out to her spot on the field. It quickly became obvious how much she needed to learn during that first softball game, and it seemed like a million years until the last one.

Time marches on and somehow I find myself with fourteen years of softball memories with this kid. Driving her places until we started letting her drive herself. Team practices and tournaments and throwing a ball in the yard. Gloves, bags, helmets, face masks, weighted balls, bats (and bigger bats), blue shoes, softball parties, and one memorable injury that put me in a boot. She loves the game now. She is aggressive when running the bases and she knows where she belongs when it is time to run out onto the field. 

You can see everything from the bleachers. I have seen Madison shed a few tears of disappointment. I have seen her make plays and crush softballs. I have seen high fives, jumps for joy, fist bumps, and hugs. I have seen her knock girls down and I have seen her help them back up. She sets goals and works really hard to achieve them. She encourages her teammates when they are frustrated. The scared little girl who started playing this game is a leader now with tremendous poise, and I am so proud of her that my heart can barely take it.  

Madison, what I would like to say to you as your softball career comes to a close is that there are two things I know for sure:
1.) I have loved watching you play. I love everything you bring to the softball field. I love watching you crush the ball and throw girls out who think they can bunt down your baseline. I love how smart you are on the bases and how you lift up your teammates when they are down. I am so proud of your work ethic and perseverance. You are all in. It’s one of my favorite things.   
2.) If you approach the rest of your life the way you have approached softball there is nothing you cannot do. Your determination and hard work will serve you well in everything that you try to do and I am excited to see where you will go from here. While your softball games are coming to an end, I will never stop cheering for you.

Parents, if you get the opportunity to take off from work half an hour early to get to the game on time, take it. And don't feel guilty as you carry your chair to your spot by the ball field fence. If you just made it home and you are debating whether to make that long drive to the away game on a weeknight because you know you could really use some extra sleep, just get in the car and go. One day, you will be standing in your bedroom putting on a shirt to match your daughter's jersey, and the game you will be getting ready for will be her last one. This time I am the one who needs someone to hold my hand. 

Seventeen

You made me a mother seventeen years ago today. The first time I saw you I was overcome with fierce love, longing, and pride. It was the kind of love that filled me beyond capacity and made me wonder how I ever felt whole without you. I remember an overwhelming longing for you to grow up happy and healthy. For you to never know hurt and suffering. And the pride that settled deep into my chest was absolutely out of control.

I mean, at first you really didn't even have to work much for it. I was proud of you for surviving the emergency c-section and getting here in one piece. Then I was proud of your beautiful dark hair, and for looking so much like the guy I have loved since I was thirteen. Parents of babies are proud whether you are awake or asleep. When you are cutting teeth or sitting up or rolling over. Crawling, pulling up to things, walking. You were speaking in complete sentences before you were two. The love, longing, and pride has stayed with me throughout every step you have taken. You started learning skills that required a little more finesse than toddling through the living room without falling down. Reading and writing. Throwing and catching a ball. Making a basket. One of the strangest things is watching your child do things you cannot even do yourself...such as playing the piano. Or throwing things in track. Of course I continue to be proud of you for all of that but sometimes it goes beyond the things you have learned to do and it is more about the way you do them.

I know you have always been smart and you have always worked hard, but lately you have really started demonstrating true grit in all of your endeavors, and I know this will serve you well in everything you ever try to do. Watching you set goals and achieve them is one of my favorite things. Watching you face adversity and overcome it is phenomenal. Situations that use to cause you panic are now causing you to strengthen your resolve. When you put in those long nights for your STAR event and were sleep deprived and stressed, I said you didn't have to do it if you didn't want to. You did it. And you did such a great job you are going to compete in Nationals. At the sectional track meet, it was cold and raining, and you threw that shot put like it was any other day. In the javelin, you scratched on your first two throws and then maintained enough poise to launch your final attempt far enough to punch your ticket to the state track meet.

The pride that I felt on the day you were born is something that has never left me. Sometimes I look at you and I am in awe that you are my daughter. You are a better kid than I was. You work harder and your heart is bigger. Sometimes your determination leaves me speechless. I have always enjoyed watching you learn things and improve, but I have come to really appreciate the way you give your best effort when things are not ideal. When the weather is bad, or you have the stomach flu, or you are going on little to no sleep. I am most proud when you manage to come out and do great things on those days. Life is not always sunny and seventy-five. Adulting is not for sissies, but you prove to me constantly that you will handle whatever is thrown your way and do your best in spite of it. Adversity causes people to crumble or shine and when it happens to you I have to wear shades. My chest aches with pride and fierce love for the beautiful woman you have become. Happy Birthday, Madison! May seventeen be your best year yet.

The Most Amazing Thing

I have always wanted to take vacation time the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day. You know, the kids are home from school and holidays can be hectic, but when you work in healthcare, that’s a pretty unpopular idea. It’s basically frowned upon. Most of the time, hospitals are busy in the winter, and hospital employees do not take a lot of time off. So I would go off to work, leaving my kids in bed at home, and try not to be grouchy with the people I love who get lengthy holiday breaks from their jobs…and that has been my dilemma since the Christmas of 2002. The holiday season has never been a vacation...just a day or two off, if you're lucky. 

This year, I no longer work in healthcare. I was encouraged to take the entire week of Christmas off. And a few days for the New Year, too.  At first a wave of guilt washed over me. I thought of all of my friends and family in their scrubs heading off to work in the cold, scheduling Christmas with their families around their shifts where they would be taking care of other people’s families. I have sold my scrubs, but I remember how they do nothing against the cold.

Then Kevin and I took the kids to see Latchford’s Christmas Lights. I made Mom’s peanut butter blossoms and Granny’s snickerdoodles. I made Aunt Sue’s cheese ball and I did my Christmas shopping all in one day, and wrapped presents the next. I took all of the kids and myself to the dentist. I did laundry for two solid days. I spent a day shopping and having lunch with Megan and her Great-Grandma, and I took a minute to look through my Christmas scrapbook and get all sentimental about all of the Christmases that brought my family to this Christmas. I helped Kevin do some work on the garage and his truck, and made him take a picture against his will. We got to see all of our parents and siblings and nieces and nephews because we still have them all. I wore fuzzy socks and drank big mugs of coffee, and I still don’t have to go back to work tomorrow. It is the most amazing thing.

I would like to apologize to my healthcare peeps because I probably won’t feel guilty every year for this amazing break from reality and this wonderful pause from everyday life in which I can enjoy precious, lazy moments with my kids. I will promise you this, though. I will never take it for granted. I will never complain because I know someone who is getting a couple more days off than me, because I will always remember that I know people who are getting a lot fewer days off. I will always appreciate you all. In fact, maybe next year I will bring you some Christmas Cookies while I am on my holiday vacation. 

She Throws Things

I am not sure I will ever get used to my children being taller than me. When I married their 6’4” father, I knew it would happen one day, but in reality it is the strangest thing. It does not seem like it was that long ago that I was carrying them around on my hip, and now I reach up to hug them. Sometimes I ask them to get things for me from the top shelf even though I have to endure the short jokes that follow. I stopped growing in seventh grade so I have always been short. In softball, I was always second base and second batter, and I bunted a lot. From middle school on I handled the basketball, and in track I attempted the jumps. At my daughter’s softball games, you will find her on third base. She hangs out in the middle of the lineup because she is a power hitter. In basketball, she is a post player, and nobody pushes her around under the basket. I am proud of the way she holds her ground.

When people ask me what she does in track, I always say, “She throws things.”   She loves to throw the shot put and discus, and while I knew she had a lot of success in junior high, I kind of assumed there would be a transitional year or two for her as she moved into varsity. I had always planned on her going to state at some point but I assumed it would be her junior or senior year. Sometimes I am wrong. Her freshman year she started bringing home medals from every meet. About halfway through the season I got online to look at other throwers in our state. Yeah, I’m that mom. I did not mention it to her, but I told her dad, “You know, there is a possibility that she could go to state this year.” And she did. Sometimes I am right. 

I will never forget the moment she stepped up to throw in Jefferson City for the first time. She was petrified, and in all honesty, she was the smallest girl of the sixteen Class 1A finalists. She was all alone out there, and we could not speak to her, as the family must remain in the stands. As the only athlete from her school to qualify for state, she did not even have a friend down there with her. Her dad and I could see it in her face the moment she almost fell to pieces. She started watching how far some of her opponents were launching that shot put, and she started to realize that she was probably not going to make it to the podium. She had never been to a meet in which she did not make the finals. She sat down on a bench down there and her lip started to quiver. Several heartbeats seemed to pass in slow motion as I watched her struggle with her disappointment. And then my child of fifteen years gathered herself and got to her feet to make her final throw. I have never been more proud in all of my life. You see, champions are not people who never lose. Champions are people who never give up. Right now her focus is on school and athletics, but the resilience we saw in her that day will serve her well throughout her entire life. I am so grateful for my seat in the stands.

Birthday Girl

We have always said of Megan that she is our most emotional child. Our drama queen. She tends to cry sometimes in the morning when fashion tells her to wear shorts and a tank top and the weather forecast tells her to wear jeans and a hoodie. When she is happy, her laughter reaches out and grabs everyone around her. When she is sad, she is down on the floor with her cheek against the hard wood. Her chatter cannot be contained when she is excited, and her anger tends to present itself with deliberate foot steps that can be heard from a pretty good distance.

I don't know if that really makes her emotional or if she just feels things very deeply. I can tell you that when she loves you, her love wraps itself around you and hangs on for dear life. It can pull you out of the worst of moods. She will support and encourage you until she doses off to sleep in exhaustion from her efforts. If she loves you, she is your number one fan and helper and her commitment to you is off the charts. There is no halfway with Megan Joleen. She runs like someone is chasing her, she sings like she is on American Idol, and she dances like she is trying out for a music video. She may be the smallest member of our family, but she is definitely a go big or go home kind of girl. Things tend to be black or white for Megan. Right or wrong. Good or bad. She does not have much patience for anything in between...and she seldom hesitates to share her thoughts about it. I love it that you always know where you stand with her.

This year, she loves riding her bike and playing softball. She is happiest when she is in charge, so she tries to maintain authority at every opportunity. Her favorite TV shows are Henry Danger and the Thundermans. She loves helping with anything, and she believes the themed dress up days at school are a big deal. She is always prepared with a hairband around her wrist, and time with family and sleepovers with friends rate high on her list. It is such a joy and privilege to watch her become the person she will be. The person she already is. Happy Birthday, Megan Joleen! I am so proud to have a daughter with a heart as big as her dreams!

Speaking of 2106

In 2016 I only wrote one blog post, and it isn't even a great one. In fact, if I were a teacher grading the quality of that post I would call it below average. I admit to being a slacker when it comes to my blog, but don't be fooled into thinking my one blog post was because I did not have a year worth recording. 2016 probably contained more change and chaos than most years I have known in my adult life.

I gained two beautiful nieces, inside and out. They have both added much light and love to our family. Speaking of my family, my children attended so many sporting events and practices that I don't even remember them all. Madison had basketball, softball, and track. Jaron had two basketball seasons (5th & 6th grade and junior high) and two baseball teams. Megan played big kid, coach pitch softball and a little basketball. I know our house contains more medals, trophies, ribbons, and team photos than it did in 2015.

Speaking of our house, after fourteen years of sharing our 100-year-old, 900-square-foot house, we bought a new one and moved. That statement is so simple to make but the process was considerably more complicated. It is more house than we wanted or needed, but it is on the family farm where Kevin has wanted to live since he was a small boy, and it already feels more like home than anywhere else we have been. Over the years I remember wishing for a spare corner or closet, and now I have two (yes, two!) spare bedrooms and eleven closets. Eleven. I love them. There will be many posts about the new house relative to the projects it brings to us and how much we are enjoying life in it.

Speaking of fourteen years, after fourteen years of working in the same job, not quite a month after moving into the new house, I attended a meeting on a random Wednesday afternoon where I learned my program and hours would be reduced by half. Most people would probably cut and run at this point (and I considered it), but the thing is, I love my job. I considered my options and looked into both full-time and part-time employment for the first time since graduating from college. I ended up substitute teaching on some of my days off until finding what my mom likes to call a "part-time full-time" job. So on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I am directing the cardiac and pulmonary rehab programs for a hospital, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays I am working for a title company. It's really not as random as it sounds.

Speaking of my mom, she retired. Her retirement is treating me well! I had some doctor appointments and an outpatient procedure and she was able to go with me to all of that. I call her all hours of the day now. She and Dad made several trips to the new house to help out and she was there with me on moving day. Speaking of moving day, I will definitely write more about that. It was epic.

First Day of School 2016

2016 brought a lot of change and challenge to a girl who is most comfortable with the familiar. It brought Madison into high school and Jaron into junior high. My schedule has never been more hectic. My life has never felt more beyond my control. Although I spent a lot of time moving in different directions, and I may not have been very impressive with my blog, I am absolutely trying to do the best I can with my family, home, and career. I can tell you that sometimes it really wears me out. But it also fills me up. I noticed something pretty significant during a rare, quiet moment of 2016. I have never felt more content.

Baseball Moms

I have started taking some video footage of Jaron playing baseball. I try to get a hit here, a stolen base there, and some pitching when the occasion arises. Jaron loves to watch these videos and show his grandparents or uncles when he gets a chance. The funny thing about baseball videos from the stands is that you can hear more from the stands than you can hear from the field.  Like moms cheering and dads shouting advice. The last time I showed Jaron some of his baseball videos he said, “I didn’t realize you moms were so intense.” I told him I didn't know what he was talking about. We are perfectly calm and collected fans. 

Upon further reflection, I might say Rattler moms are supportive instead of intense. Enthusiastic, maybe? Excitable? Animated? This was supposed to be a picture of Jaron sliding head first into third base for a triple. If you look closely, you will see his feet (and his blue socks, Nancy!). What I love about this picture is that it represents just how supportive our moms are of every player. These moms are on their feet or they have a hand in the air (or both), and it's not because they are going crazy for their own kids. They are cheering for my son. I might have been known to make a little noise for their boys as well. I love it. What a fun baseball family!  

I Think You Will (Rattlers 2015)

We have established that I took a ride on the crazy train this summer and allowed our family to juggle four teams at one time. Two of those teams were travel teams. I went in knowing there was a good chance I would regret the decision, but Jaron was so excited to be joining this team. Nothing lights him up quite like playing sports. He tries to be reserved a lot of the time, keeping a straight face whenever possible. But sometimes, when he has a ball in his hands, and does something impressive with it, he forgets how much he wants to be a man, and he smiles a real smile with teeth. I have to be quick to catch it. He does not let it linger, but I see it every chance I can, and I love it. So when I find something that puts a big smile on his face, I almost always say yes to him. 

As one of the youngest kids on the team, he really looked up to some of the bigger boys. He tended to walk a little taller and speak a little lower when he was around them. I knew going in that he was the new kid to an established team, which might be a struggle for a quiet guy. And I knew that as one of the little guys, there was a good chance he would spend some unfamiliar time on the bench. I was completely fine with this, but somewhere in the back of my mind I was concerned that this would put him off from baseball and diminish some of the fun for him.

I had nothing to worry about. Although I know he tried, he could not contain his smile when he played with the Rattlers. He learned a lot about hitting and throwing mechanics, leading off and stealing bases, and pitching from the wind up and the stretch. He started diving head first into bases whenever he got the chance and he loved every minute of it. He played some different positions and always got to bat, and I felt like he improved in several areas, including confidence.  

 At the end of the season, at our team celebration, I did not realize Coach Davis was going to be handing out awards. I had a flashback from the year Jaron was the youngest kid in preschool and he got the dreaded “most improved” award. I am not saying you shouldn’t be proud if your kid gets that award, but to me it has always said something like “you were pretty terrible when you started but now you are not so bad.” I wondered what he would come up with for my son but I had a feeling it would be a repeat from preschool. When it became Jaron’s turn to get his certificate, Thad said, “No matter what I asked this kid to do, or where I asked him to play, he did it, he never complained, and he tried hard. He is the most coachable kid on this team, and that’s why I am giving him the Most Coachable award.”

I might have cried a little. I know. There’s no crying in baseball. But this is not a “Most Improved” award. In fact, this award has nothing to do with success or failure. This is not about his batting average or caught fly balls or how many stolen bases he had. To me, this award says that Jaron is a good kid who does what he is told, gives great effort, and doesn’t talk back. Between you and me, I think all of my kids are good kids, but I am their mama, and nobody has loved them longer than me. Except maybe Jesus. I am programmed to look for their good qualities. Nothing touches a mother’s heart quite like someone recognizing the good in her child. Best. Award. Ever.  

And something I have learned about travel teams is this: they are like everything else in life. Some of them are good and some are bad. Some are loud and obnoxious and some are snobby and rude. Some of them really do have egos that a baseball dugout cannot contain. But some of them are pretty great. They have parents who get along and encourage the boys instead of tearing them down. They have coaches who will sit a boy on the bench for throwing his helmet in the dugout, because they value character over talent. I am so grateful Jaron got invited to play for one of the great teams. If you look at the Rattlers win/loss record, you might not be very impressed. But if you look at the things that matter the most, I think you will. 

ALL IN - Megan's First Ball Season

Megan's 1st Softball Practice. Ever.

I started Madison in rag ball before she was ready for it. She cried in the dugout and was too scared to go out onto the field. I remember my friend, Jessy, having to lead her out by the hand and stand by her until she was comfortable. I was so eager for my kids to begin enjoying youth sports that it never occurred to me that she might not enjoy it at 4 years old. Lesson learned. My perspective had changed dramatically by this summer as I considered when to start our third kid as opposed to our first. We did not sign Megan up to play at the YMCA when she was 4, and we did not have her play for Atlanta when she was 5, either. The logistics of getting her to 3:00 practices along with our day jobs before she was in school just didn’t work for our family. We considered waiting one more year, foregoing tee ball altogether, and starting her the next year in coach pitch softball.   I won’t try to lie here, the concept of juggling three kids in sports with our work, garden, animals, and hay fields seemed pretty daunting.  

But something else that changes dramatically between child #1 and child #3 is that child #3 has been to LOTS of ball games--thanks to her older siblings and cousins.  She has heard what coaches say about how to swing a bat and she will shout it out to players if she sees something they should do differently. She already knows the rules and which way to run to get to first. She pays attention to the score board, celebrating a win and shaking her head at a loss and she WANTS this. She wants to play and have practices of her very own. She wants to tote around her own bat bag and helmet and have a blue shirt with her own number on it. She is ready. 

What I can say about my youngest child when it comes to softball is this: She is ALL IN. She swings the bat as hard as she can. She runs as fast as she can. She chases the ball wherever it may go. In her first at bat in her first game ever, she got a double. I looked up from where I was coaching at first base to remind her to watch her third base coach to know when to run, but she was not on second base. She was about ten feet towards third with an awesome lead off, looking to steal. I had to let her know that sadly, she had to stay on her base until the ball was hit again by one of her teammates. That not only could we not lead off, but we could not steal yet, either. She rolled her eyes and asked, “Why can’t we just take a few steps off the bag?”

  

A couple of games into the season, she was playing center field when there was a runner on third base. The ball was hit to her. She got it and ran that base runner down before he made it from third to home to tag him out. She said she didn’t want him to make a point even if they don’t keep score yet.

I know that maybe there is a good chance that her competitive nature is a little over the top. I know how irritated she was about how they did not keep score during her first season, and I watch how she crosses her arms or stands with her hands on her hips when her siblings do not have the lead in their games. I think she kind of tends to give her opponents a little bit of stink eye when they get on base, but I have to say that sports also light her up and she has a blast out there. And I love to watch her play.

About midway through the season, I was standing out in the field with her team to help instruct the players on where to go with the ball. I was about fifteen feet away from Megan when the last batter came up to bat. When the last batter is at the plate, the play is at home, and all of the runners advance until a fielder steps on home plate with the ball. Megan asked (loud enough for the other team’s coach to overhear, of course), “Hey, Mom, if he hits it to me, do I touch home plate or knock him down?” The other coach busted out laughing as I just looked her with my mouth open. I couldn’t even deny that I was this little girl’s coach…and her mother for that matter! The little boy in question hit the ball, luckily NOT to my daughter, and after the game we had a long talk about tagging a base runner versus “knocking him down.”

I cannot wait to see what season two will bring. 

SWAT (Softball With AttiTude)

If I were a mother who brags, I would post a team picture of the 2014-2015 12U SWAT team and I would tell you that they placed second in the Show-Me State Games. I would talk about pitchers, hitters, stolen bases, getting bunts down, making plays, and enthusiasm. Because those things were awesome, and I was so proud of all of these girls.

My hope when Madison signed up for this team was that she would improve her fundamental softball skills. Hitting, fielding, throwing, base running. I wanted her to learn more about all of the little things, because I have always believed, in any sport, that if you do the little things the right way, winning will flow from that. I think that doing the little things ultimately becomes the big thing. As our season comes to an end, I have been thinking about how far we have come since we began last fall.

The girls did improve their skills in many ways that can only be accomplished with experience.  At this time last year, when Madison approached the batter’s box, she was a girl who was trying not to strike out. Now, when she steps up to the plate, she is looking to smack the crap out of the ball. Her throws are more accurate, and she has become an aggressive base runner who is FINALLY ready and willing to slide. Most of the time.

I LOVE to watch young people gain life lessons through sports. Teamwork. Perseverance. Patience (Anybody remember any rain delays?). Commitment. Work ethic. Taking direction. Confidence. When we started out, a mistake or two would turn into a train wreck, and we took our share of losses. As the season went on, however, the girls developed the ability to regroup and move past a mistake, and we started bringing home medals. I think the girls learned that winners are not people who never fail. They are people who never quit.   

  Thank you SWAT coaches and parents for your willingness to give your time and energy to this team and to my daughter. For her lessons learned, the fun she had, and for helping out when I had to miss a game to take her brother somewhere else. Now that it is over, even with all we gained, it feels a little bit like we survived something. Maybe we did. Frigid cold, extreme heat, crazy hair, shoe emergencies, flooded fields, a tornado warning, and a switch blade surgery. Come to think of it, maybe winners are are people who never quit with parents who never give up!  

Decision Made

It was never my intention to have more ball teams than children at any given time. I always kind of assumed three kids meant three teams in the summertime. I was also slow to warm up to “travel ball.” I didn’t want my kids to get burned out or injured from too many games, and let’s just say I am well versed on the challenges that can be found within youth sports today. And that is not even mentioning the expense and time commitment involved. But somehow one summer I’m a mom with two kids in recreational ball, and then a short year later I find myself with two kids in recreational ball AND two kids in travel ball. This means I let my son play on two teams. How did this happen?

I had each child signed up for one team apiece, and started to plan my summer accordingly when Jaron got invited to play on a travel team. He really wanted to play. We only knew one kid and one set of parents on this team so I was a little leery to say yes. I mean, we have all seen BAD baseball parents and coaches. Especially on travel teams. The ones whose kids think they are heading to the MLB. The ones who value winning more than everything else and talent more than class. I have always been an advocate for the way sports can teach life lessons and develop character in kids, and I wanted to tell Jaron yes, but I knew I could not handle being part of a team full of egos so big that a baseball dugout could not contain them.

 

I spoke with the head coach and he encouraged me to let him come to a practice. He said we could both take a look at whether or not this would work for the team and our family. He said he would talk things over with Jaron, and my family could make a decision afterwards with no hard feelings either way. Jaron has always been a pretty quiet kid, maybe because his sisters are always trying to talk for him, and he can be very shy in crowds. The fact that he wanted to show up to a practice as the new kid, stepping far out of his comfort zone, spoke volumes about how much he wanted to do this.

When we got there, Jaron walked around some of the boys playing catch to find the head coach, shook his hand, and introduced himself. I stayed in the car for this part. Ladies, here is a difficult truth: There comes a time in a boy’s life when, although he loves you, it is not cool to have Mom hovering around all the time. Your sweet boy, no matter how many times you have rocked him to sleep in the past, will start to think of you most when something is lost or he is hungry, and otherwise will want and need to do a lot of things on his own.

So he practiced with these boys, and within about thirty minutes I could see (from a distance, of course) that he was learning more about base running already than he had learned in the last year of rec ball. I could see the coach stopping him periodically to work on fundamentals, and I knew that if he was interested in joining this team, I was going to have more teams than kids. I am a sucker for anyone taking the time to explain something to my kid, and I could see that this experience could be good for him.

After practice, I met Coach Davis and Jaron handed a paper to me for safekeeping. It was an agreement he had signed in hopes of joining this team. It outlined the team expectations and character qualities he should strive for throughout the season. Decision made.

Here is the thing that most people don’t want to say out loud, Sports Moms.  There are SO MANY bad things going on in youth sports today. It is completely separate post for another time. So when you find a team like this one that values things like attitude, effort, and honesty…you grab ahold of it with both hands and hang on. Even if it means you will have more teams than children. Even if it means more time on the road, less money in the bank, and getting even more behind on everything at home than you already are. Even when you know there is a good chance it will create late nights and cranky mornings.  In a few short years, Jaron will be done playing baseball, but if he cultivates the qualities on this list it will stay with him forever.