Count Your Blessings

So I took this picture last Saturday after Tucker's first football game as a Dragon. We walked away with a win, me trailing my 4 (soon to be 5) boys and I was lucky enough to be cognizant of the photo opportunity that strode in front of me. I mean, seriously, how often do I have all of them together, headed in the same direction, no one acting like a goofball, for a photo? Not often, so I quickly pointed and clicked. I only got one shot before they realized what I was up to, but I have to say I'm pretty happy with the one I got. So much so that I posted it on Facebook, made it my cover photo, and NOW I'm writing about it. Because as they say (or sing), "every picture tells a story, story." And this is ours:

1. That's my whole world right there, walking to the car after a Win. Count your blessings, name them one by one: Three boys, 2 wins, 1 handsome husband, 0 worries. At this point, I don't care where my cell phone is, how much I weigh, what we're having for dinner, or what time we will get home. Five Kirks in one place= one happy Mom!

2. There's Coach K., obviously discussing the logistics and statistics of what just occurred in the last two quarters he got to see. He only saw the second half because he'd been busy coaching Tanner's team an hour away, and as soon as that game was over the two of them flew like bats out of Jackson County to make it in time to see Tucker. It's hard to keep a proud Dad away from a season opener, even harder when that Dad has coach blood running through his veins.

3. Then there's Tucker, my first born, my baby, y'all, walking next to his Dad looking not too terribly much shorter than his 6'3" dad. How in the heck did this happen? He's blocking bigger kids, catching long passes, tackling on the goal line, and wearing expensive receiver gloves? Weren't we just tossing the Nerf ball in the backyard yesterday? Isn't this the baby who fell asleep in my arms every Friday night as he watched his Dad coach and coax high schoolers to a win? Oh well, if he has to grow up, he's growing into something I'm mighty proud of.

4. And Tanner. Tanner and his team had already cinched a 33-0 win and Tanner had shed his gear for the sake of cooler temps. But Tanner, unbeknownst to anyone, without a command or a reminder from Mom or Dad, acted as the perfect big brother, reaching out to walk hand-in-hand with Tate as we got closer to the parking lot and the danger of cars leaving for the day. How can you not love a 10 year-old who doesn't think twice about hand-holding with his baby brother? Not to mention that he's the same 1 lb 13 oz baby we weren't even sure would be allowed to play contact sports. My heart melts a little each time I look at that shot.

5. Finally, we have Tate, who unashamedly loves Daddy a wee bit more than he loves Mom right now, and even as a 4 year old, he recognizes that the cool place to be is with his Daddy and "the boys." And yet, he, perhaps noticing that Mom isn't in view, looks back to check, not to hold hands with me, not to invite me into their world, but to reassure himself that though he can't always see me, I'm always there. And you know what? I'm okay with that.

Because that right there? That's my world.

Dear Pre-K Teacher,

Dear Pre-K Teacher,

I've only met you once and really know nothing about you, yet here I stand, delivering my just-recently-turned-4 baby to you for an entire school day. That's 7:40 until 2:30. That's a long time. That's breakfast, lunch, and naptime. That's almost 7 hours of his day, and I'm letting you have it.

I know you are a good teacher, a loving and kind teacher. I checked you out. I also know you are busy, that you have 21 other 4 year-olds with specific needs and distinct little personalities. I know you know what you are doing and that you've done it all a hundred times. I know you have great ideas and cool stories and fun things planned for the whole year.

Again, I know you are busy, but can you do me a favor?

When Tate smiles, will you make sure you smile right back at him?

When he laughs and shows his pretty little baby teeth smile, will you laugh with him?

Will you listen to him tell you all about fire trucks and firefighters and ladder trucks and pumper trucks?

Will you ignore the pants he's wearing with the hole in the leg, because they're his favorites and we all know we need as many favorites as possible on the first few days of school.

Will you listen to him tell you how far he can swim and then imagine that sweet little boy in a shark swimsuit as he jumps into the pool full force, legs kicked up behind him and big blue goggles protecting those baby blues?

When he has a rough morning because he's tired, not used to the routine, missing his dad or brothers, will you hug him for a minute or two? It's hard to go from having hugs all day to none at all. Even big kids (and adults) need hug sometimes.

Will you teach him to love school, to anticipate the ending to each story, to marvel at numbers and letters? Will you remind him to be kind to everyone and to follow the rules and raise his hand?

Will you promise me he won't get lost in the crowd? That he won't just become a number or a name on the tag of his backpack? That his distinct little personality will not only be recognized but appreciated. That when you look at him every morning you'll see the fire fighter wannabe, the super star swimmer, the boy who wears a whistle around his neck and cleats on his feet and walks in his Daddy's footsteps as he coaches, patting players on the head just like Daddy does.

Will you see him as the gift from God that he is, even when his boy-ness is almost too much to bear? Will you see him as the blessing he is to us and now to you, even on his uncooperative days, of which I'm sure there will be many? But most importantly, will you love him like I love him, on those days when you are the next best thing to Me?

Sincerely,

Tate's Mom