The Scene: 8th Grade Girls vs. Moms Basketball Game, Sometime Before I Did a Deep-Lunge and Traveled at the Same Time
The Culprit: Happy New Year Cardboard Horn for Use in Cheering for Mom’s Team
The Victim: My 10 Year-Old Son, Previously of Putting-His-Teeth-Through-His-Chin Fame and Known for Stopping a Skateboard with His Face
The Incident: A Fall While Holding the Horn in His Mouth, and a Traumatic Injury to the Uvula
The Result: Advil for Both of Us and an Extra Serving of Zoloft for Mom
Sometimes, after I have yelled and hit my head against the wall in frustration, I look at your face and count your freckles.
When I am too tired to keep my eyes open at night, I stumble past the cluttered coffee table and nearly burst into tears at the sight of the kitchen sink. I see that you’ve used four different cups in the last four hours, then I sneak into your room and give you kisses while you sleep.
I sigh at your attitude and 10 minutes later I grab you for a hug. My shoulders slump when I see your mountain of laundry on the basement floor, but as I fold your shirts I smile at how much you’ve grown.
I want to stomp my feet because it’s impossible to get you to bed on time, and in the morning I am happy to hear your footsteps when you climb out of bed and I know we’re about to start another day together.
This job – this blessing – it is work and happiness and exhaustion and sunshine. It is tears, sleepless nights, worry-filled days, and joy beyond compare. It’s being thrilled for how far you’ve come and being frozen in fear when I think about the future.
I am proud, I am scared, I am confident, I am confused.
I am a parent.
My 14 year old daughter is finishing up her 8th grade basketball season and last week, among the many emails from her future high school, current teachers, and summer camps, there was a message from her basketball coach that stood out from the rest.
It said that the girls needed to work on their rebounding, it gave the practice schedule for the week, and then there…at the bottom…I read a little, golden nugget; plans for a mothers vs. daughters basketball game.
Aw, yeah!
At the final practice of the season, a pack of 40-something, prone-to-get-distracted-by-wine, possibly-running-the-court-while-wearing-walking-boots, women will be taking on a sprightly bunch of teens. I can’t wait.
For one, it gives me ample excuse to embarrass my daughter. We’re planning to wear tube socks. And, maybe silk shorts.
It will also give me a chance to show off my impressive wing-span. They don’t call me “Orangutan Arms” for nothing!
And, lastly, even though it is highly likely that we will get our butts kicked, there is an ever so slight chance that we will have eternal bragging rights.
Not to mention that I finally get a chance to wear my headband again.
Bring it, girls.
For the last two years, I have done year-end recaps. I like traditions, so here you go.
January – It took me 11 days into the new year before I got my mind right.
February – St. Valentine’s Day Catholic Cliff Notes taught my readers so much. And by so much, I mean nothing at all.
March – My little boy got to meet his favorite big star when Ree came to town.
April – I came out of the vegan closet then I went to the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop in Dayton and left with cheeks that were cramped and sore from laughing so much. We also said goodbye to our sweet dog, Blue and my husband fixed the microwave.
May – I responded to the numerous people who ask me for blogging advice. It’s cute how they think I know what I’m doing! And, I can’t forget the milestone my son hit.
June – I traveled to Seattle for BlogHer Food and I looked back at the days when my kids loved each other.
July – Things were exposed. I’ll leave it at that.
August – I got addicted to a new app and took a trip to NYC for BlogHer ’12.
September – We found out what my son would say if his dad died.
October – I rambled, and I reflected.
November – I attempted to blog every day, but failed. We lost my cousin and that was really the only thing that mattered.
December – I ended the year like I started it, by getting my mind right.
Bring it, 2013. I’m ready for you.
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