It's funny. In a world with endless tragedy, sad stories, and disasters that fill the news pages, i still manage to get up every day and lead a pretty great life. Movie stars are crazy, singers are lazy, and no one is a good role model when the video tapes come out. And yet, despite the fact that The Bachelorette never finds lasting love, I sleep well at night, laugh a lot, and have so much to be thankful for that i often lose track of my blessings.
I'm not rich, I'm not famous, and no one really cares what happens to me outside of my family and friends. I drive a mini-van, I do my own grocery shopping, and I spend most of my vacations within the continental United States. I change diapers, scrub toilets, and i jump on the trampoline for fun. I am solely responsible for cooking and feeding four people EVERY day. And because of (not despite) all this, I consider myself one of the luckiest people on the face of the earth.
How? some people may ask. For the last nine years i have been blessed to call myself a mom. Now, that doesn't get a lot of attention, unless of course, i'm a recovering meth addict who's now a great mom, or a movie star/model who manages to "do it all" in addition to a fabulous career. No, the regular moms who drive car pool, make tuna casseroles, and spend so much time doing laundry that we decorate the laundry rooms a la Southern Living, don't elicit a lot of fanfare. But those people who think that the face of a real mom is found on the covers of People and Redbook, have no idea that regular, average, run-of-the-mill moms pretty much have the world on a string.
When you are a mom, lonely is a word that doesn't even register in your vocabulary. Can i get a witness? Bathroom, shower, telephone conversations, grocery shopping with balloons attached to my cart for the sake of a little sanity--all are conducted with my entourage in tow. Dinners out (even at chick-fil-a) with a baby on the lap and a utensil in one hand have become the norm for how to eat and cook. And who can forget bedtime? I know i'm not the only one who more than once a week winds up with an extra person in the bed. Yeah, and if I don't return your phone calls, you already know why. And if you don't call me, well, let's just say my feelings aren't hurt and i'll look forward to your phone calls when Tate starts kindergarten. Like i said, i can't even imagine being lonely; and i really don't want to.
I am never at a loss for quotable material,either. In fact if i were smart i'd walk around carrying a mini tape recorder so i wouldn't miss a thing. Just yesterday, Tanner came in to tell me that he'd never be able to take a shower or bath again (serious face). He'd suffered some sort of cut or bug bite that kept him from immersing his foot in water, so cleansing via water was out of the question, forever it seems. And in another very serious conversation, Tucker was asking if people from Mississippi are called Mississippians. "Well, what are Mexicans called?" Tanner now wants to know. And they think they can't make me laugh!
Honesty. I've already written about the brutal honesty that comes from tucker's mouth, but really it never gets old. At Silver Sneakers the other day, i was putting out one of our exertion charts and talking to one of my members at the same time. Tucker came in and asked what I was doing with it. I told him it was kind of a list of rules, and right there, in front of my over 55 member says, "oh yeah, old people like to follow rules." Swear to it y'all.
I can't mention honesty without throwing in a little bit of lying with it. When your kids tell you they want a WII not for themselves, but because they have yoga and other aerobics things for me, i have to laugh. Similarly, when they spot a gorgeous celebrity on the cover of one of those very magazines i scoff at and tell me "she" looks just like me, i marvel at their attempt.
I guess what it boils down to is that i've just seen one too many shots of Britney and her kids, and all the other stars who really put shame to the term of mom that i can't stand it anymore. Real moms ROCK, and deserve the credit that gets heaped too many times on the lame excuses who don't know what it's like to sit up at night with a sick baby or watch the same Barney video so many times you hum the songs while out for a jog. Seriously, i know i'm not the only one who has looked around the room to discover that she's watching Phineas and Ferb and the children are nowhere to be found.
So kudos to all the real moms who work, cook, chauffeur, clean, and still manage to read books, run races, have dates with their husbands, and vacation at the beach without having their every move documented for America's enjoyment. Even bigger kudos to those same moms who actually realize how lucky they are and are enjoying every loud, sticky, sleep-deprived moment.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
The Wonder Years
I know it was a bittersweet weekend for Mississippi, a big win for one team, a big loss for another. I may have been gone for 9 years and I may live almost 500 miles from home, but my roots run deep. I swear the only reason i pay such a ridiculous price for TV is so that if MS State or Ole Miss is playing footbal, basketball, baseball, or water polo, i can catch the game; and I'm never so proud as when i wear my Ole Miss or Ms State t-shirt (yes, i have both)in a sea of Bulldog red.
I'm proud of my home state, yes, and it has more to do with just football,(though i do think it is a grand sport:) I get all giddy when i check out a magazine and see some aspect of the Magnolia state highlighted. Just today I had some free time to read my Southern Living out on the back deck and was thrilled to see that as they were highlighting the Best of the South, Mississippi and its famous Mississippians stole the show for the amazing music. Specifically, it is the music of the Delta, the legendary Blues singers who honed their talent from the way of life that is so typical of the flat farm land that stretches along Highway 61.
Awww, all of a sudden I'm a little homesick. I lived in the Delta, very briefly, and drove that highway so many times i knew every bend and bump in the road. Sadly, I remember, too, that I couldn't wait to leave the Delta, head down 61 one last time and never go back. Did i not know then what I know now? Were there no articles on the music, the history, the family relationships that prevail in small towns along the river?
I was too young to appreciate the culture shock of a town that doesn't change much, where the high schools are staffed mostly with teachers who are former students, or neighborhoods whose streets sound off like alphabetical listings in a phone book. Nope, I couldn't see it, and as soon as life opened another door we packed our things and floored that U-Haul down that same highway one last time.
Well, as it often does, life has a funny way of turning things around on you, and seven years later we found ourselves in a another new town, eerily similar to the one we fled so many years ago: high school students checking us out at the grocery store, churches filled with great-grandparents and their kids, grandkids, and finally their great grandkids, one redlight only on the way to school, the closest mall 30 minutes away. Yes, I'd been here before, but this time . . . surprise of all surprises, I LOVE it! I am smarter now(older, too), aware that it is the little things in life that make a city a home, and not just some place you live until the next door opens and the moving van shows up.
And for a coach and his family, new doors open up all the time. Plenty of doors have opened (and closed) for us, and realistically many more will in the future. So even though i regret the impulsive me who didn't appreciate what i was leaving behind in the Delta, I can now say that wherever we go, whatever each new town holds (or doesn't), I cherish each person, each road I run, each little quirk it holds, because you never know, the town you once ran from just might turn into the place you're running to.
I'm proud of my home state, yes, and it has more to do with just football,(though i do think it is a grand sport:) I get all giddy when i check out a magazine and see some aspect of the Magnolia state highlighted. Just today I had some free time to read my Southern Living out on the back deck and was thrilled to see that as they were highlighting the Best of the South, Mississippi and its famous Mississippians stole the show for the amazing music. Specifically, it is the music of the Delta, the legendary Blues singers who honed their talent from the way of life that is so typical of the flat farm land that stretches along Highway 61.
Awww, all of a sudden I'm a little homesick. I lived in the Delta, very briefly, and drove that highway so many times i knew every bend and bump in the road. Sadly, I remember, too, that I couldn't wait to leave the Delta, head down 61 one last time and never go back. Did i not know then what I know now? Were there no articles on the music, the history, the family relationships that prevail in small towns along the river?
I was too young to appreciate the culture shock of a town that doesn't change much, where the high schools are staffed mostly with teachers who are former students, or neighborhoods whose streets sound off like alphabetical listings in a phone book. Nope, I couldn't see it, and as soon as life opened another door we packed our things and floored that U-Haul down that same highway one last time.
Well, as it often does, life has a funny way of turning things around on you, and seven years later we found ourselves in a another new town, eerily similar to the one we fled so many years ago: high school students checking us out at the grocery store, churches filled with great-grandparents and their kids, grandkids, and finally their great grandkids, one redlight only on the way to school, the closest mall 30 minutes away. Yes, I'd been here before, but this time . . . surprise of all surprises, I LOVE it! I am smarter now(older, too), aware that it is the little things in life that make a city a home, and not just some place you live until the next door opens and the moving van shows up.
And for a coach and his family, new doors open up all the time. Plenty of doors have opened (and closed) for us, and realistically many more will in the future. So even though i regret the impulsive me who didn't appreciate what i was leaving behind in the Delta, I can now say that wherever we go, whatever each new town holds (or doesn't), I cherish each person, each road I run, each little quirk it holds, because you never know, the town you once ran from just might turn into the place you're running to.
Friday, July 9, 2010
I know this is hard to believe (or maybe just hard to stomach, again:)), but I love football. And it's not just the game and the season and all the hoopla that surrounds a Friday night, but I love the whole lifestyle that comes with being a coaching family. I'm sure I've complained numerous times about how late Billy works at night and the incessant phone calls about lawn mowers, team physicals, and weight room shenanigans, especially when i was a young wife just learning the ropes; but after many years of living this way, I have alot to brag about. And tonight, i think i'd like to share:)
First of all, can we say T-SHIRTS!!!! I am a walking advertisement for everything from orthopaedic foot care to the new Gatorade flavor to the best sporting goods stores around. I am never at a loss for a shirt to run in, do housework in, or parade around Kroger in on a lazy Saturday afternoon.
Next, there are now online sites that allow moms to find babysitters who are qualified, responsible, and available at a moment's notice. I've never needed a site such as that. Let's just say that cheerleaders line up to keep an adorable infant (as do some of my favorite Panther moms) and when the big boys get too big for girl babysitters, the best thing is a babysitter who can throw a spiral in the backyard and come inside and play Madden till it's lights out. And that whole responsible thing? Word travels fast around high school halls, so any undesirable candidate has been eliminated before she even applies. SOmetimes gossip IS okay.
It gets better. During the season, I very often open the fridge on Saturday mornings and find leftovers from Friday's pregame meal. Now, if that isn't a pleasant surprise for a weary mom on a busy weekend, I don't know what is. Tucker and Tanner don't even care what it is, as long as Daddy brought it home and they know that the players ate it, it's a keeper. Which means whether i want to eat it or not, supper is already cooked and i can sit back and watch the Georgia game (somewhat) uninterrupted.
There are plenty more reasons to love this life: tickets to the Georgia games, endless samples of deodorant, prewrap, and shaving cream, and old jerseys that become costumes whenever necessary. An open track to run on with nobody to tell me i can't bring my jogstroller. And then there are those little moments when God reminds us that he's never far from the action. My friend likes to say that when we want something, sometimes we have to just be patient and wait for God to "show out." Well, today, he not only showed out, he did cartwheels and back handsprings.
In just a couple of weeks, Billy will be taking his team to FCA camp at West Georgia College. Though it is a team activity, the players must pay for their own trips. Reality check: the economy stinks and some kids (and families) just don't have the money. So Billy has been stewing over this for weeks. How to get all of his players to a camp that no one should have to miss out on. He prayed, e- mailed, and made numerous phone calls. Little bits came in here and there, but still we had several players who still needed scholarships. As we were heading to Lake Lanier Islands with the boys today, the "showing out" began. Billy got a call from a guy who wanted to help him with the scholarships and miraculously was able to offer the money that Billy would need to insure that EVERY player would attend what has been rumored to be a "life-changing" camp. We couldn't believe it. Billy had called this guy hoping he would be able to help with 2 maybe 3 players and instead will provide for 13!!!!!
All together, Billy has had people step up and offer enough money to allow 27 boys to attend camp, boys who otherwise would be staying home.
We drove in AWE the rest of the way and enjoyed our afternoon in the sun, reminded again that miracles do happen. Just can't wait to see what the next miracle is that God has in store for our PANTHERS!
First of all, can we say T-SHIRTS!!!! I am a walking advertisement for everything from orthopaedic foot care to the new Gatorade flavor to the best sporting goods stores around. I am never at a loss for a shirt to run in, do housework in, or parade around Kroger in on a lazy Saturday afternoon.
Next, there are now online sites that allow moms to find babysitters who are qualified, responsible, and available at a moment's notice. I've never needed a site such as that. Let's just say that cheerleaders line up to keep an adorable infant (as do some of my favorite Panther moms) and when the big boys get too big for girl babysitters, the best thing is a babysitter who can throw a spiral in the backyard and come inside and play Madden till it's lights out. And that whole responsible thing? Word travels fast around high school halls, so any undesirable candidate has been eliminated before she even applies. SOmetimes gossip IS okay.
It gets better. During the season, I very often open the fridge on Saturday mornings and find leftovers from Friday's pregame meal. Now, if that isn't a pleasant surprise for a weary mom on a busy weekend, I don't know what is. Tucker and Tanner don't even care what it is, as long as Daddy brought it home and they know that the players ate it, it's a keeper. Which means whether i want to eat it or not, supper is already cooked and i can sit back and watch the Georgia game (somewhat) uninterrupted.
There are plenty more reasons to love this life: tickets to the Georgia games, endless samples of deodorant, prewrap, and shaving cream, and old jerseys that become costumes whenever necessary. An open track to run on with nobody to tell me i can't bring my jogstroller. And then there are those little moments when God reminds us that he's never far from the action. My friend likes to say that when we want something, sometimes we have to just be patient and wait for God to "show out." Well, today, he not only showed out, he did cartwheels and back handsprings.
In just a couple of weeks, Billy will be taking his team to FCA camp at West Georgia College. Though it is a team activity, the players must pay for their own trips. Reality check: the economy stinks and some kids (and families) just don't have the money. So Billy has been stewing over this for weeks. How to get all of his players to a camp that no one should have to miss out on. He prayed, e- mailed, and made numerous phone calls. Little bits came in here and there, but still we had several players who still needed scholarships. As we were heading to Lake Lanier Islands with the boys today, the "showing out" began. Billy got a call from a guy who wanted to help him with the scholarships and miraculously was able to offer the money that Billy would need to insure that EVERY player would attend what has been rumored to be a "life-changing" camp. We couldn't believe it. Billy had called this guy hoping he would be able to help with 2 maybe 3 players and instead will provide for 13!!!!!
All together, Billy has had people step up and offer enough money to allow 27 boys to attend camp, boys who otherwise would be staying home.
We drove in AWE the rest of the way and enjoyed our afternoon in the sun, reminded again that miracles do happen. Just can't wait to see what the next miracle is that God has in store for our PANTHERS!
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Things you should NEVER tell your mother!
As a mother of three boys, the word "no" comes up quite a bit at my house, in my car, and at every venue in Jackson county.
"No, you can't do your homework after practice."
"No, you can't take Tate down the street without me."
"No, you can't stay up to watch the new episode of Zack and Cody."
You get the picture. Unfortunately, it's not only i who frequently throws out the N-bomb; no, Tate has figured out that little word and though he can't say it yet, he KNOWS what it means and usually tries to ignore it whenever i use it.
"No Tate, stay away from the catfood."
"No Tate, hands don't go in the potty."
"No Tate, don't touch Daddy's phone, computer, remote, . . ."
And yet he does them all anyway, smiling the whole time.
And then there's the other two loves of my life, Tucker and Tanner. They give me as many no's as i give them.
"Have you brushed your teeth?" NO
"Are your shoes tied?" NO
"Are you wearing shoes?" No
"did you bring home your study sheet?"
So between me, Daddy, Tucker, Tanner, and Tate, No is one word we don't need any help with. Unfortunately, there are others, little retorts that sometimes make me shudder when i hear them. Phrases and responses that have mysteriously (thanks, Disney Channel) popped into my young boys' mouths. I try to warn them at first, hoping that after one stern look and threat of dismemberment, they won't ever use them again. My looks must not be so bad, because they keep popping up. So here goes: Top Ten things you should never say to your mother. Pass them along. Post them on your fridge. Warn the youngsters of today that had WE ever uttered these quirky remarks to our mothers and fathers, we would have been picking our switches from a backyard bush so fast our heads would have already spun.
10. (as we are getting into the car), Do we need shoes?
9. (as we are getting into bed for the night), "OOh, i need a posterboard!"
when? "tomorrow!"
8. (At the dinner table), I don't eat this.......... oh, really????
7. (when asking if a friend can come along), But his mom already said yes!
6. (after i do a smell check after bath or shower), you didn't say to use soap!
5. Y'all never let us . . . (when asking permission for something they
KNOW we'll never agree to.)
4. Mom, you are the coolest, best mom in the whole world (when asking permission for something they KNOW we'll never agree to.)
3. Mom, stop that; you're embarrassing me!!!! (When i'm walking through school saying hello to their friends, or when i'm dancing in the car to Cupid Shuffle.)
2. Mom, why do your arms shake like that? (while he points to my dangling tricep) Boo Tanner!
And finally, the one response these days that can turn an otherwise happy-go-lucky Mom (who had her run for the day) into a hot-tempered, finger-pointing, punishment-issuing drill sergeant:
1. Hold on!!! (when i ask you to take out the trash, bring me your homework, play with your brother, or stand on your head and spin, I mean now!!!!) I am too old to "hold on" and you are too young to even exercise that phrase.
Well, I feel better:)
"No, you can't do your homework after practice."
"No, you can't take Tate down the street without me."
"No, you can't stay up to watch the new episode of Zack and Cody."
You get the picture. Unfortunately, it's not only i who frequently throws out the N-bomb; no, Tate has figured out that little word and though he can't say it yet, he KNOWS what it means and usually tries to ignore it whenever i use it.
"No Tate, stay away from the catfood."
"No Tate, hands don't go in the potty."
"No Tate, don't touch Daddy's phone, computer, remote, . . ."
And yet he does them all anyway, smiling the whole time.
And then there's the other two loves of my life, Tucker and Tanner. They give me as many no's as i give them.
"Have you brushed your teeth?" NO
"Are your shoes tied?" NO
"Are you wearing shoes?" No
"did you bring home your study sheet?"
So between me, Daddy, Tucker, Tanner, and Tate, No is one word we don't need any help with. Unfortunately, there are others, little retorts that sometimes make me shudder when i hear them. Phrases and responses that have mysteriously (thanks, Disney Channel) popped into my young boys' mouths. I try to warn them at first, hoping that after one stern look and threat of dismemberment, they won't ever use them again. My looks must not be so bad, because they keep popping up. So here goes: Top Ten things you should never say to your mother. Pass them along. Post them on your fridge. Warn the youngsters of today that had WE ever uttered these quirky remarks to our mothers and fathers, we would have been picking our switches from a backyard bush so fast our heads would have already spun.
10. (as we are getting into the car), Do we need shoes?
9. (as we are getting into bed for the night), "OOh, i need a posterboard!"
when? "tomorrow!"
8. (At the dinner table), I don't eat this.......... oh, really????
7. (when asking if a friend can come along), But his mom already said yes!
6. (after i do a smell check after bath or shower), you didn't say to use soap!
5. Y'all never let us . . . (when asking permission for something they
KNOW we'll never agree to.)
4. Mom, you are the coolest, best mom in the whole world (when asking permission for something they KNOW we'll never agree to.)
3. Mom, stop that; you're embarrassing me!!!! (When i'm walking through school saying hello to their friends, or when i'm dancing in the car to Cupid Shuffle.)
2. Mom, why do your arms shake like that? (while he points to my dangling tricep) Boo Tanner!
And finally, the one response these days that can turn an otherwise happy-go-lucky Mom (who had her run for the day) into a hot-tempered, finger-pointing, punishment-issuing drill sergeant:
1. Hold on!!! (when i ask you to take out the trash, bring me your homework, play with your brother, or stand on your head and spin, I mean now!!!!) I am too old to "hold on" and you are too young to even exercise that phrase.
Well, I feel better:)
Monday, June 28, 2010
America's Finest
I had it all planned out. I was going to write a blog to all the graduates, a few words of advice to the seniors of 2010. AFter filling in at the high school in the fall of 2008, and after finishing 3 seasons with this group of football players, I felt like I knew a lot of the guys and girls who walked across the graduation stage. And i have to say, I like ALOT of the those students and will miss seeing a lot of those faces. So, a blog was in order. My plan was to dish out some common sense wisdom, you know, "If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is," or "There's no such thing as free." Things like that. Also, little hints that I've picked up, mostly from my own mistakes. For example, don't buy the cheap shoelaces; they cost a dollar for a reason. And for the college bound: Just because you can stay out all night, doesn't mean you should. Same goes for fast food. Just because they have a dollar menu, doesn't mean it's good for you.
I had it all planned out. And then, we saw Charlie. He was eating dinner with his family and came over to tell us he was getting ready to ship out. Suddenly all that advice seemed pretty silly. His shipping out was no surprise; we'd known for a while that he was joining the Marines, but that was when he graduated. That was back in the fall when he stumbled into the classes I subbed, finishing off a snack before the bell rang, when he begged me to let him play trashcan basketball after the test with old scraps of paper. That was back when he was running for touchdowns on Friday nights. That was when he was a kid. Yep, all those words about too many Big Macs and late night fraternity parties seemed pretty silly directed to a boy who might be headed off to a war in the desert.
He's not the only one. Another one of our players has already shipped out. I don't know where he is and I don't know what six weeks of boot camp is like. What I do know is they didn't HAVE to join. They signed up to do something that most people wouldn't, couldn't do. They traded backpacks and textbooks for machine guns and ready to eat meals. They gave up dorm rooms and video games for combat boots and heavy artillery.
They spent twelve years as America's future and with the switch of a tassel, they became America's finest. It's hard to believe that the boys whose faces I can still see, sitting in the bleachers listening to morning announcements, eating lunch with their friends in the Panther cafe, and racing down the football field, are now the men who protect our country and defend the freedoms that most of us take for granted. That the boys who just months ago donned cap and gown now command respect and applause as they pass through airports in their dress blues. It's humbling to know that men and women fight every day so that we can do the things we love; it's even more humbling when that soldier is a young man you coached or taught.
If I could slow time down, I would, let them and us have one more season, one more summer of innocence, youth, and ignorant bliss. But I can't, for them, me, or my own boys. So all I can do is pray for them, be proud of them, and offer one dose of advice as they "ship out": take care of yourselves!
God Bless Charlie, James, and ALL of our soldiers!!!
I had it all planned out. And then, we saw Charlie. He was eating dinner with his family and came over to tell us he was getting ready to ship out. Suddenly all that advice seemed pretty silly. His shipping out was no surprise; we'd known for a while that he was joining the Marines, but that was when he graduated. That was back in the fall when he stumbled into the classes I subbed, finishing off a snack before the bell rang, when he begged me to let him play trashcan basketball after the test with old scraps of paper. That was back when he was running for touchdowns on Friday nights. That was when he was a kid. Yep, all those words about too many Big Macs and late night fraternity parties seemed pretty silly directed to a boy who might be headed off to a war in the desert.
He's not the only one. Another one of our players has already shipped out. I don't know where he is and I don't know what six weeks of boot camp is like. What I do know is they didn't HAVE to join. They signed up to do something that most people wouldn't, couldn't do. They traded backpacks and textbooks for machine guns and ready to eat meals. They gave up dorm rooms and video games for combat boots and heavy artillery.
They spent twelve years as America's future and with the switch of a tassel, they became America's finest. It's hard to believe that the boys whose faces I can still see, sitting in the bleachers listening to morning announcements, eating lunch with their friends in the Panther cafe, and racing down the football field, are now the men who protect our country and defend the freedoms that most of us take for granted. That the boys who just months ago donned cap and gown now command respect and applause as they pass through airports in their dress blues. It's humbling to know that men and women fight every day so that we can do the things we love; it's even more humbling when that soldier is a young man you coached or taught.
If I could slow time down, I would, let them and us have one more season, one more summer of innocence, youth, and ignorant bliss. But I can't, for them, me, or my own boys. So all I can do is pray for them, be proud of them, and offer one dose of advice as they "ship out": take care of yourselves!
God Bless Charlie, James, and ALL of our soldiers!!!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
children and fools
One of my favorite bible verses has always been, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." I grew up in Sunday School, taught Sunday School, and now send my children there every week. I believe in that verse and i try to follow that verse. But another proverb that i stumbled upon recently is gaining more weight around my house the older my children get: "children and fools speak the truth."
Tucker is a talker. I mean a drown out the radio, 20 questions, analyzing movies as a toddler kind of talker. Forget the typical first born characteristics--quiet, reserved, organized--he headed straight to the 3rd child qualities, namely "most likely to become a game show host." So to say he tells it like it is is an understatement. Ever since he started watching the Braves, he's been a Brian McCann fan, so much so that he's begging for catcher's gear for Christmas already. Well, last summer, out-of-nowhere, he told me that i had "Brian McCann legs." Hmmm. . . What can you say to that? If he weren't my child i could have come up with plenty of four letter expletives and maybe a face slap. But i think he kind of meant it as a compliment, so I just smiled and said, "Thanks, buddy"
Seething and self-conscious, I headed to the full-length mirror to check it out. No offense, you rich, young Major League catcher, but the last thing a 35 year old pregnant woman wants to hear is that she has the legs of a man who squats for a living. Unfortunately, my job requires me to do squats and lunges in a room surrounded by mirrors, so that Brian McCann "compliment" keeps ringing in my ears. Thanks, Tucker!
Mothers Day rolled around this year and Daddy and the boys decided to buy me a gift certificate to have my hair done. Again, Tucker wasted no time in letting me know that i wasn't quite up to par with how he thought i should look. I envisioned a nice cut, similar to what i usually get, and maybe some highlights resembling my natural color. He had other plans: "Mom, you need to get blonde hair AND you need to start wearing glasses. YOu'd look alot better!" Wow! tell me how you really feel, son.
His honesty and candid remarks aren't just limited to how I look. One night Tucker had obviously met someone from a divorced family and had lots of questions. I tried to explain it as best I could, how kids might live with one parent most of the time, and visit the other parent on weekends. It didn't take him long to decide who he would choose if that were to happen to him: "I'd definitely live with Dad cause he gets tickets to the PeachBowl and Georgia games and mom doesn't." Wow, all those nights rocking a sick baby, nursing ear aches, and changing wet diapers and i'm sold out for sideline passes to an organized brawl in the big city.
One of my favorite times that he "tells it like it is" is when he makes fun of how I run. Running is important to me, and it's something i like to think i do pretty well. To him, though, imitating me as i head up the hill to our house is a riot. "I'm Mom," he shouts, as he tilts his head to the side and dons an intense glare on his face. He's even better when he laughs at me after sneaking a peek at me teaching my Silver Sneakers class. "One, two, one, two," he screams, as he attempts a rather lazy grapevine. hey, what happens with me and my senior citizens behind closed doors is my business!! He thinks i'm a hilarious goofball; and tells me!
He's only nine. I'm not sure how much more of his truth i can stand. But maybe i'm looking at this all wrong. Though he acts like a third child quite a bit, artsy and comedic at the same time, he IS a first born child and they are also known to be pleasers, always trying to make others happy. This is the child who won the Citizenship Award in his class. Maybe what he meant by Brian McCann legs was that I have toned, muscular legs. Isn't that what i work out for? And maybe I WOULD look better with a new hair color. I had lots of compliments when i had my blonde highlights. And seriously, what boy doesn't think his Daddy is the coolest? Maybe i'm the one with the problem, not Tucker. I'm assuming the worst, that all his comments are just a pre-teen waiting to let loose on his parents; when really all he's doing is trying to make us happy.
The more I think about it, the more I like that verse about children speaking the truth. Tell me more, Tucker. The truth sounds pretty good coming from a 9 year old:)
Tucker is a talker. I mean a drown out the radio, 20 questions, analyzing movies as a toddler kind of talker. Forget the typical first born characteristics--quiet, reserved, organized--he headed straight to the 3rd child qualities, namely "most likely to become a game show host." So to say he tells it like it is is an understatement. Ever since he started watching the Braves, he's been a Brian McCann fan, so much so that he's begging for catcher's gear for Christmas already. Well, last summer, out-of-nowhere, he told me that i had "Brian McCann legs." Hmmm. . . What can you say to that? If he weren't my child i could have come up with plenty of four letter expletives and maybe a face slap. But i think he kind of meant it as a compliment, so I just smiled and said, "Thanks, buddy"
Seething and self-conscious, I headed to the full-length mirror to check it out. No offense, you rich, young Major League catcher, but the last thing a 35 year old pregnant woman wants to hear is that she has the legs of a man who squats for a living. Unfortunately, my job requires me to do squats and lunges in a room surrounded by mirrors, so that Brian McCann "compliment" keeps ringing in my ears. Thanks, Tucker!
Mothers Day rolled around this year and Daddy and the boys decided to buy me a gift certificate to have my hair done. Again, Tucker wasted no time in letting me know that i wasn't quite up to par with how he thought i should look. I envisioned a nice cut, similar to what i usually get, and maybe some highlights resembling my natural color. He had other plans: "Mom, you need to get blonde hair AND you need to start wearing glasses. YOu'd look alot better!" Wow! tell me how you really feel, son.
His honesty and candid remarks aren't just limited to how I look. One night Tucker had obviously met someone from a divorced family and had lots of questions. I tried to explain it as best I could, how kids might live with one parent most of the time, and visit the other parent on weekends. It didn't take him long to decide who he would choose if that were to happen to him: "I'd definitely live with Dad cause he gets tickets to the PeachBowl and Georgia games and mom doesn't." Wow, all those nights rocking a sick baby, nursing ear aches, and changing wet diapers and i'm sold out for sideline passes to an organized brawl in the big city.
One of my favorite times that he "tells it like it is" is when he makes fun of how I run. Running is important to me, and it's something i like to think i do pretty well. To him, though, imitating me as i head up the hill to our house is a riot. "I'm Mom," he shouts, as he tilts his head to the side and dons an intense glare on his face. He's even better when he laughs at me after sneaking a peek at me teaching my Silver Sneakers class. "One, two, one, two," he screams, as he attempts a rather lazy grapevine. hey, what happens with me and my senior citizens behind closed doors is my business!! He thinks i'm a hilarious goofball; and tells me!
He's only nine. I'm not sure how much more of his truth i can stand. But maybe i'm looking at this all wrong. Though he acts like a third child quite a bit, artsy and comedic at the same time, he IS a first born child and they are also known to be pleasers, always trying to make others happy. This is the child who won the Citizenship Award in his class. Maybe what he meant by Brian McCann legs was that I have toned, muscular legs. Isn't that what i work out for? And maybe I WOULD look better with a new hair color. I had lots of compliments when i had my blonde highlights. And seriously, what boy doesn't think his Daddy is the coolest? Maybe i'm the one with the problem, not Tucker. I'm assuming the worst, that all his comments are just a pre-teen waiting to let loose on his parents; when really all he's doing is trying to make us happy.
The more I think about it, the more I like that verse about children speaking the truth. Tell me more, Tucker. The truth sounds pretty good coming from a 9 year old:)
Friday, June 4, 2010
Prayer for the Panthers
Strolled/jogged around the track at Billy's school this morning, and well, this is what came to me after 7 miles:)
Dear God,
You've been with us from the very beginning: the interview in a town we'd never heard of, the phone call from Mr.Lancaster, the huge ABF moving truck with our lives loaded in it(that it seemed like we'd just unpacked), the heartbreak and tears(mine) over leaving our current home and friends. You were there when our house sold in 5 days and we slipped seamlessly from Mississippi residents to Georgia homeowners with a little cash in our pockets. You were there when the older man at the new church looked at Billy and said, "What made you take that job?" You were there for it all and I guess that's what made it OK to pack up and move again and start over AGAIN in a place where we knew NO ONE! The Bible says "where You lead, I will follow." Well, we're here.
Well, God, I have a request. The Bible also says, "Ask and it shall be given to you." It's been three seasons and there's no other way to do this but to come right out with it. Lord, I'm praying today for a winning season for the Panthers. Be with the players as they hit the weight room early mornings on their summer break. Assure them that the work they trade for sleep will pay off this fall. Be with them as they endure the wind sprints and conditioning that will prepare them for hot nights in full pads against boys who may be bigger or faster than they are. Bless the receivers with quick feet as they glide down the emerald green grass. Give them long arms and tight grips as they pull in passes from their quarterback. Guide that very quarterback as he surveys the field, sizes up the defense, and delivers a game winning pass. Give the linemen tough feet as they dig their toes into the ground, pushing, shoving, and protecting. Keep them strong even though theirs are the names that rarely get called. Be with the safety who gets beat on a pass route, and give him the confidence boost to go back on the next play and intercept. Calm the kicker who sometimes carries the game on his shoulders. Help him boot that pigskin straight through the goalposts, and protect him as he is carried off the field on the shoulders of his teammates. Be with the coaches whose heavy feet pace the sidelines they mow themselves, who carry a heavier burden than most people can understand. Encourage the boys who stuck with it, even when it was hard, when others gave up on them, and are finally seeing some light in the distance.
You see, God, we've had it rough here the last several years, or so i've been told. The teams who came before us have suffered the losses, the games that "build character." But now, Lord, it's time to win. Our boys know what it's like to work hard and improve. To continue when others quit. To lose in the last few minutes, to lose in the first few minutes. They know what it's like to read the paper and hear the praise heaped on surrounding teams. Lord, I just think it's time to see the right people reap what they sow. Let the boys who buy into a work ethic, follow when asked to follow, and lead when expected to lead, experience the thrill of victory. Let them hear the roar of a crowd who plan their weekend around 7:30 kickoffs. Let them read about themselves in the paper, with words like "upset," and "playoff."
Thank you Lord for football as we know it: summer workouts, cool fall nights in the bleachers, cheerleaders chanting, and marching bands marching. Thank you for pep rallies, homecoming, tailgating, and signing day. And Lord, if we could add play off game to that list, I'd consider this an answered prayer.
In Jesus name,
Jennifer
P.S. -- Lord, i'm pretty sure i can get you a sideline pass to that play off game. Just sayin'.
Dear God,
You've been with us from the very beginning: the interview in a town we'd never heard of, the phone call from Mr.Lancaster, the huge ABF moving truck with our lives loaded in it(that it seemed like we'd just unpacked), the heartbreak and tears(mine) over leaving our current home and friends. You were there when our house sold in 5 days and we slipped seamlessly from Mississippi residents to Georgia homeowners with a little cash in our pockets. You were there when the older man at the new church looked at Billy and said, "What made you take that job?" You were there for it all and I guess that's what made it OK to pack up and move again and start over AGAIN in a place where we knew NO ONE! The Bible says "where You lead, I will follow." Well, we're here.
Well, God, I have a request. The Bible also says, "Ask and it shall be given to you." It's been three seasons and there's no other way to do this but to come right out with it. Lord, I'm praying today for a winning season for the Panthers. Be with the players as they hit the weight room early mornings on their summer break. Assure them that the work they trade for sleep will pay off this fall. Be with them as they endure the wind sprints and conditioning that will prepare them for hot nights in full pads against boys who may be bigger or faster than they are. Bless the receivers with quick feet as they glide down the emerald green grass. Give them long arms and tight grips as they pull in passes from their quarterback. Guide that very quarterback as he surveys the field, sizes up the defense, and delivers a game winning pass. Give the linemen tough feet as they dig their toes into the ground, pushing, shoving, and protecting. Keep them strong even though theirs are the names that rarely get called. Be with the safety who gets beat on a pass route, and give him the confidence boost to go back on the next play and intercept. Calm the kicker who sometimes carries the game on his shoulders. Help him boot that pigskin straight through the goalposts, and protect him as he is carried off the field on the shoulders of his teammates. Be with the coaches whose heavy feet pace the sidelines they mow themselves, who carry a heavier burden than most people can understand. Encourage the boys who stuck with it, even when it was hard, when others gave up on them, and are finally seeing some light in the distance.
You see, God, we've had it rough here the last several years, or so i've been told. The teams who came before us have suffered the losses, the games that "build character." But now, Lord, it's time to win. Our boys know what it's like to work hard and improve. To continue when others quit. To lose in the last few minutes, to lose in the first few minutes. They know what it's like to read the paper and hear the praise heaped on surrounding teams. Lord, I just think it's time to see the right people reap what they sow. Let the boys who buy into a work ethic, follow when asked to follow, and lead when expected to lead, experience the thrill of victory. Let them hear the roar of a crowd who plan their weekend around 7:30 kickoffs. Let them read about themselves in the paper, with words like "upset," and "playoff."
Thank you Lord for football as we know it: summer workouts, cool fall nights in the bleachers, cheerleaders chanting, and marching bands marching. Thank you for pep rallies, homecoming, tailgating, and signing day. And Lord, if we could add play off game to that list, I'd consider this an answered prayer.
In Jesus name,
Jennifer
P.S. -- Lord, i'm pretty sure i can get you a sideline pass to that play off game. Just sayin'.
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