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.
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