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A Day for Him

6 Feb

It’s all because of her Second Grade ears. Her Second Grade mind. Her Second Grade sweetness. When her teacher made the announcement about the baseball youth camp, Nia thought about Nate. She got the paper, put it in one of the pockets of her Kitten folder and packed it away in her backpack to make sure we got it. To make sure her little brother could go to the baseball camp.

Nate loved it. He got to play ball with the high school baseball players. He got to soak up the older kids saying, “look at that little guy run/hit/field!” He got to learn from the boys wearing the high school uniform shirts. He was in his element and it showed. Andrew said the head coach even came up to him at end of the camp inquiring, “Is that your son? How old is he?” Apparently, he’d been watching Nate during all the drills and couldn’t believe how good his technique was at such a young age.

What I love most about it all is that Nate doesn’t know how cool that is. He doesn’t know a head coach from another dad. He just knows he loves to play. For him, that camp was about him and baseball. And his sister made it happen.

Warming Up

Blurry Baseball Boy

Couldn't Wait to Bat

 

Batting Practice

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Beauty Marked?

5 Feb

I don’t remember being self-conscious about all the moles and freckles that graced my skin growing up. Looking back, I’m sure I was but I think my feelings about them changed because my grandma would always comfort me and boost my esteem by telling me they were beauty marks. Marks that God wanted me to have. I shouldn’t be ashamed of them, my beauty marks.

Through the years, many of them have changed. Cautious that those marks could be a sign of cancer or for appearance’s sake (I was very aware of a few), some were removed. Now, more need to meet that fate.

This is where it becomes difficult because Nia has a very special beauty mark on her forehead. Yet, she hides it beneath her hair because she doesn’t like it. She says she doesn’t want people to make fun of her if they see it. I tell her over and over again that it is special. It’s a sign of beauty. Don’t hide it. It’s part of who you are. But as I say that, I know I’m soon going to hide a few more of mine forever. What is that teaching? They’re beauty marks until you don’t want/need them to be anymore? I suppose beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. I just hope the one on my lip stays the same. I especially love that one…

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Baseball Weather!

30 Jan

The months of cold, rainy and snowy weather may have kept Nate from playing baseball outside but he never really did put away all the baseball gear. He would still bring the hats, gloves and cushioned baseballs out of his room to convince Andrew to throw with him in the living room. That really wasn’t cutting it though. This weekend’s beautiful weather was just what he needed. Spring Ball can’t get here soon enough!

Swing Away!

He "Crushed" It

 

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Speed Test Stress

29 Jan

It was time. I told myself I knew this stuff. I got it. I stuffed the inside of my Second Grade desk with the books and paper from our last subject. All that remained was my pencil, a sheet of paper with my fat-fonted name across the top and my fidgety hands as I waited for the teacher to slide the cassette into the top of the hand-held tape player and press down the button. I can do this.

The voice began. Math problems were slowly and robotically spoken to us. We had seconds to write the answer. There was no pause, stop or rewind. My palms sweated. My leg shook. I bounced in my seat like I had to go to the restroom. I blanked.

Speed math tests were painful for me. Pain. Full. It wasn’t that I didn’t know math. Me and math were cool. It’s just, when you add the element of time, well, I lost it. I used to study/train just for these tests. My friend, Eleni, would help me practice. Her mom had some speed math tapes and we would play school. I think I was actually being tutored but it was playing school, in my head.

I got through it all ok and actually forgot about the panic I’d feel until Nia started bringing home half sheets of paper with math problems and the words “speed test” on them. I worried for her. Would she stress out like I did?

I’m relieved to say, this picture sums it up:

No Speed Test Troubles

Phew. I can’t help but flashback each time I encounter one in her folder though. I think I’m already stressing for Nate’s.

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Tales from the Container Cabinet

26 Jan

I’ve never realized all that a plastic container cabinet could hold. I’m not just talking about the plastic of all shapes and sizes. I’m thinking about the mysteries and confessions that lie within those bowls.

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Why do I have more lids than containers? What happens to the lid’s mate? Even if the bowl was trash, why would I keep the lid? Just in case? Frisbee? This old, square lid wouldn’t be good for that. Yet, I keep it.
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The green lid brings me to a confession. I’m an accidental stealer of storage containers. The green one came from my mom’s. This blue bowl is my sister’s but I already broke the news to her that it will now live with me. (I really like it!)
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On to another mystery – what in the world happens to our bowls that they get this abused? We’re just eating out of them, not stabbing them with a dagger or spray-painting them red. Also, why do I keep containers that look like this? This should be a case of pitch the bowl, keep the lid. Although, we do eat a lot of red sauce foods so we’d be out of a lot of bowls.

By the way, if I have one of your long-lost plasticware pieces (or other kitchen gadgets), my apologies for not returning it but please know I think about you each time I put spaghetti in it.

Now, I’ll put a lid on it.

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Keeping his enemy closer?

22 Jan

Nate’s relationship with his glow-in-the-dark Hulk has taken an unusual turn. He used to have a fear of his glowing green guy. I wrote about it almost a year ago when we caught him on hidden camera escorting Hulk from his room.

Now, he requires us to “charge” Hulk each night so that he can have him nice and bright. It is such a necessity to have Hulk bright that he will often tell us that there is still “green” on him. That means Hulk is not glowing to Nate’s satisfaction.

I can’t figure this new night-night obsession out. I really believe it is a “keeping his enemy closer” thing. Why else would Hulk often be found buried way under the covers (like foot-of-the-bed-buried) in the morning?

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Wanted: Friend to Color My Hair

22 Jan

Or just to come over, sit at the table with me, share a bottle of wine or some coffee and talk about things, face-to-face.

Growing up, I remember my mom always had her girl friends over our house. They would sit and talk for hours, play games or bake something. Just relaxing and conversatin’ about mom, wife or girl stuff, without worrying about sharing too much information or it being exposed for other eyes to see. There was no facebook. There were card parties, women’s clubs and just come over and hang out friends.

As my kids grow up, I know I’m going to need an in-person friend like that. Someone who will listen and give advice, in confidence. I’ve already ran into a few personal girl things with Nia that I’m holding in and it’s a weird feeling. After all, I share everything. I share things that make others uncomfortable. But they are things about me, not my little girl.

I know I can always call my family and close friends but sometimes chatting over hair color or chips and salsa just makes it all better. Plus, I really need my grays covered.

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“I’m a Girly Tomboy”

21 Jan

Just be you. That’s what I told Nia tonight when she told me she’s a “girly tomboy.” She insisted, that is what she is doing. She is a girly tomboy. Here’s her 7-year-old reasoning:

Because I like dresses but I like pants. And I like to play with my Barbies but I like peace signs.

When I asked her why she considers peace signs a tomboy thing, she said it’s because boys are usually saying things like peace out. I told her that girly girls can say that too and that she doesn’t have to call herself girly or tomboy. She just needs to be Nia. Pink peace sign and all.

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Happy Holiday?

17 Jan

I’m sure I’m just over-analyzing like I tend to do but I find it inappropriate to say “Happy Martin Luther King, Jr. Day” or “Happy Memorial Day.” I just consider them special days of reflection and tribute (not so much happiness) because they are days associated with the loss of incredible individuals.

Am I being too critical? Is there a happiness in that the men and women we honor on those days were born and so we’re thankful for that? I can see it that way, I suppose. I just feel uncomfortable when people say “Happy day!” like it’s a party or when stores offer sales associated with the days.

I guess we all reflect in our own way. As long as we take the time to remember, learn and teach our children, right?

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Our Alarm Clock(s)

16 Jan

The following is a rough account of waking up each morning. Since I am mostly still asleep, my accuracy may be off by an alarm or four.

The digital clock lights up 5:20 am and the alarm sounds. It’s mine. The radio talks to us or plays us the latest pop tune. We sleep. I finally hear it at about 5:27 after Andrew nudges me with his leg. Snooze.

The next alarm sounds from Andrew’s side of the bed at 5:35. It is an awful beeping alert that we somehow continue to sleep through until another alarm blares – his cellphone screams some military trumpet call to us. It doesn’t go off until he solves some math problem that unlocks the snooze. I now am awake, but I am cranky. It is 5:50. Ish.

This is the typical week alarm ritual. On weekends, our alarm is much more charming and the snooze button is a little trickier to figure out.

Nate’s little head greets us usually starting at 6:30. He tells us he had a “good sleep” and requests a large breakfast. (Eggs and sausage or ham are his usual menu items.) Today though, it was different. He asked us if the Falcons won the football game last night. Andrew sweetly told him no and Nate gave an “oh man” whine. Then he inquired, “How much did they have? And the other team?”  We assured him it was ok because he’ll still get to see the Steelers play. To that, he left the room and, knowing he was content and going to play cars, mommy and daddy dozed a tad more. It is the weekend, after all. Snooze.

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