Archives For November 30, 1999

Steamy summer reflection

July 13, 2013

Earlier in the day, Ryan and I slid into bed and shut the door.

The kids were occupied and we were alone together. Finally. We took full advantage of the situation.

Two hours later, I emerged with messy hair hoping the experience was as good for him as it was for me.

WE NAPPED LIKE THERE WAS NO TOMORROW PEOPLE.

I can’t stress enough how good uninterrupted rest felt. I’ve been a gas tank running exclusively on fumes for the past two months.

I wrote about how our boys played in over 100 combined baseball games this summer for momaha.com. First thing’s first – I am not complaining. I had a freaking blast this summer. Luckily, the boys did too. Heck, even their little sister enjoyed the ride for the most part.

Yet, the calendar reminds me they will be back to school in a month. 

We can now return to the pool, go on bike rides, enjoy another movie or two, and read a few good books together. Maybe even set a few goals.

I want my children to know what personal accomplishment feels like when it’s not attached to a medal or any other form of external validation.

Isn’t that one of the best gifts we can bestow on our kids? A sense of inner purpose and confidence?

The sport of baseball, a group of dedicated coaches, and two selfless teams have helped instill these values in my boys this summer.

Allow me to be THAT mom and brag just a bit…

My 11-year old was brought in at the end of arguably one of the biggest games of his team’s season to do something his mom could have never done (not at his age, not now, not ever) – strike out a hitter with the tying run on third base against a powerhouse team. He rose to the occasion and I practically puked.

My 9-year old, who fought to earn a spot in the line-up, was down to one strike in an elimination game of the state tournament. He hit a line drive to the outfield to bring in the tying run and then scored the winning run by beating a throw to home plate. He came through in a pressure situation and I beamed with pride.

As for Ryan and me? We survived.

I don’t know which of these feats is the most remarkable.

The summer of 2013 was a good one. I recognize it now and will remember it for years to come.

This was the view I had last Friday.

melted snow

and my mind tricked me into believing that spring was almost here

This was the view taken from the same camera angle just two days later on Sunday.

snow returns

you are an evil deceiver, Jack Frost

My mindset went from incredibly upbeat to completely ticked off in 48 hours. My mood fell as quickly as the thick snow came down.

I am left to wonder, will THIS be the final snow fall of the season here in Nebraska?

I. Am. Over. Winter.

My kids have a slightly different perspective.

snow day

yet another day off from school

Why can’t I have the same level of appreciation as they do for snow days?

It’s painfully obvious I’m not a kid anymore. Sure, on the surface, it would seem like a nice thing to experience a three-day weekend. And perhaps I would enjoy it more if it didn’t take me 30 minutes to warm up from the time I get out of my bed in the morning. If I wasn’t thinking about letting yet another running workout slip by because I hate the treadmill more than I hate math. If I wasn’t stressed about staying on top of everything in the office without physically being in the office.

This upcoming weekend will mark the end of my boys’ basketball seasons. They played 75 games between the two of them…and neither are ready for their seasons to end.

Guess what? I AM READY.

I am ready to switch to the equally (if not more) insane season of baseball, because those games are played outside and not within the confines of a gymnasium.

I am ready to run outside with a familiar group of colleagues over my lunch hour instead of dragging myself onto a hamster wheel.

I am ready to walk my dog on familiar trails and hear the neighborhood buzz as kids play in inflatable pools and run through sprinklers.

I am ready to blind people with my pasty white legs and wear flip flops as often as possible.

I am ready to take our vacation to Great Wolf Lodge, where my four-year old can experience (for the first time) what all the fuss is about.

I am ready to bid farewell to frigid temps and my perspective. Both are getting a little bitter this time of year.

Created by Heidi Woodard

Bragging and baseball

April 5, 2012

I conquered my first unassisted pull-up earlier this week. It was one of the goals I set for myself about a month ago.

Boo ya.

Today I did a couple more just to prove the first one wasn’t a fluke. Now I can casually say with confidence, “Who me? Yeah, I can totally do a pull-up.” It doesn’t seem like the hugest deal in the world, I know. But, it is big for me.

It felt fantastic to hoist my chin up over that bar for the first time with no help.

Even more rewarding than achieving my own success was watching my two boys start baseball season. My 8-year old is just getting his feet wet in somewhat competitive ball. Prior to this year, the only pitching he faced was dished up by his coach.

Now he’s facing boys his own age hurling strikes at him faster than he can blink an eye.

I've told my 8-year old the chances of him actually making contact with the ball will increase as soon as he stops watching his dad snap pictures of him through the fence.

My 10-year old has a couple of competitive seasons under his belt and he is really starting to come into his own. Tonight he allowed only one run while on the mound and hit back-to-back triples. I told him to bask in the glory while it lasted because you can be on top of the world one day, and cause an error to let your team down the next.

That is what I love about the game of baseball and why I miss playing fast pitch softball. Each pitch and swing of the bat is so meticulously planned and the really good players make it all look so effortless.

For those who have never played or coached the game, these sports can seem incredibly slow and dull. However, there is so much strategy and heart that goes into every inning. My son was able to feel on top of the world earlier this evening because 11 of his buddies backed him up, knocked down balls, hustled their hardest, and rallied from behind to pull off a win. The camaraderie experienced on the ball diamond is like nothing else I’ve experienced in life.

When else in sports are you willing to put yourself at risk of getting drilled by a hard non-inflated object on both offense and defense in an all-out effort to help your team succeed? I’m not saying it’s the hardest sport in the world (after all, I’ve never played football, hockey, or fought in a cage), but I would argue that hitting a moving baseball IS one of the hardest skills in sports.

Baseball is a game of child’s play. No matter how old the athlete, when downpour and lightning cause rain delays, you are bound to see a ball player sliding across the tarp-covered field. Cheeks are both smeared with eye black and stuffed to capacity with sunflower seeds. Kids show up in flocks for the chance to catch a coveted fly ball. And moms can barely contain their excitement and pride from tee ball through the major leagues.

I’ll be enjoying America’s past-time this summer and I hope you enjoy the warmer months too.

And it's ONE, TWO, THREE kids we're off to the ol' ball game!

My 10-year old south paw pitching.

My 3-year old occupying herself during the game. Disclaimer: The boys were between innings. I yanked her off the fence the moment a batter approached the plate.