Posted by Catherine, the redhead mom blogger on Feb 8, 2007 in
Brian and Mom
As promised, here are pictures of my life for a more accurate view of my world as a mom.
I’ll call this the MOOOOOMMMMM you’re buggin me again Brian look.
And he does know everything. Just ask him.
And here is Boonie the attack Terrier dog.
Watch out – she can haul off and bark at her own shadow.
She follows the guy who knows everything.
Hey – I really can use my phone.
Until next time -
C
http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com
Tags: mom blogger, parenting blogs
Posted by Catherine, the redhead mom blogger on Feb 7, 2007 in
It's A Mom's Life
I had a life once; maybe not a huge one by some standards, but it was a life I controlled.
This really worked for me.
Then something happened. Brian became his own person – very much his own person. I call this stage Brian: 11 going on 35. Suddenly he has an opinion on everything – and feels quite free to express himself – even if it means telling me I should go to bed earlier and walk more.
I was thinking about this on Friday night when Brian informs me that WE need to go to bed early. I look at him and grin. You know – the kind of grin only a mom has when she is thinking, Isn’t that cute? but is really thinking Isn’t that cute and I’ll turn up the heater in your bedroom and you’ll be asleep in two minutes.
When the shrill of the box thing (some call it the alarm) went off at 6:30 am on Saturday I wished that I listened to him and got my butt into bed before midnight. Who in their right mind gets up this early on a Saturday morning that isn’t catching a plane?
Parents of kids who play sports.
I did have to marry an ex-jock.
And procreate with him.
And insist he be a part of our son’s life after the divorce.
Just shoot me.
On Saturday morning the fog was so thick you could have scooped it in your hands and formed it into snowballs. Everything was wet – even the air. By 8:00am we are out the door with a baseball glove, bat, coffee, newspapers, basketball shoes, coffee, change of socks, basketball uniform, coffee, a basketball, snacks, water, Gatorade, coffee, a blanket and basically everything from under his bed.
I love coffee. I love it so much that if I could, I’d marry it.
There we were driving across town in search of a grade school I have never heard of for baseball try outs. Brian’s dad meets us to drive and show us the way. A whiskey flask thing could have helped, because the man won’t look up directions to save his mother. So naturally we have to go to three grade schools (all with empty fields) because he figures he knows where the try outs M I G H T be. I guess it is some exjockdar (ex-jock radar) that hones them in on sporting events held out in the open?
You mean this is a guy thing?
Meanwhile Brian is starting to back seat drive – this from a kid who shrugs when you ask him where he lives. He thinks he is going to find out where the tryouts are – by?
I am glad I have snacks so buzzards won’t circle when we run out of gas driving around in circles.
Finally my ex happens to drive by a grade school, recognizes the name and turns the car abruptly into the driveway. This move causes all Brian’s gear to trade places with Brian in the back seat. I swear we were airborne over the speed bumps and a permanent indention in the shape of the top of my head is now in the top of his car. You’d think Barry Bonds was arriving for Spring training.
To which Brian says, “Oh yeah, I knew it was here.”
There, in the back of the school is this large, very wet baseball field covered in fog. Confused parents are shuffling kids along and yelling to pick up their feet. I now know we are in the right place. What I don’t know is why we hurried since no one is ever organized at these events. It takes another half hour for Brian to get his try out number and find his place in line.
Parents: LET THE WAITING BEGIN.
Everything that can be touched, walked over, brushed near, held and looked over is dripping wet with dew. My socks are wet through my shoes before I have even finished half my coffee – or the first kid is at bat. Naturally, because I am not wearing make-up (and my non-washed hair is in a pony tail under a Operating Engineers hat) I meet all the parents of Brian’s friends who I have never met before.
If only I could have been smoking a long cigarette, carrying a dog, holding a near beer and wearing fuzzy slippers I would have made a better first impression.
When I used my newspaper as protection over the bleacher seats (so my butt wouldn’t get wet) not one person sat anywhere near me.
Brian was dead last in his division try outs. Have you ever sat on a cold wet bleacher bench for two hours watching a bunch of kids try out for baseball? I think our enemies could use this for torture as I would have sold my brother for a heater and a reclining chair. The last half hour before Brian’s great appearance, my ex is pacing in front of me.
Jaysus, Brian isn’t trying out for the Giants.
Finally Brian runs to the outfield and gets in position to receive pop fly balls. He has never played baseball – except with me. Brian’s dad his biting his upper lip. First ball from the machine blows towards my son. Before I can have my heart attack, Brian casually runs forward and the ball drops right into his glove. He throws it to the guy at third. My ex looks at me in shock.
Second ball shoots out to my son way to fast for this mother and her cold coffee as the ball lands in Brian’s glove, stays for a sec, and pops out as Brian forgets to cup his hand over his glove. He quickly bends, gets the ball the throws it to third. My ex looks at me in shock. The coaches bring Brian into short-stop. They bat grounders to him. He easily scoops up each and throws the balls to first. My ex is now leaning forward.
I can’t feel my butt.
Then Brian is up to bat. The first pitch Brian swings and pop-flies it straight up. The second pitch Brian pop-flies it straight up. The third pitch Brian connects and hits a line drive right into the electronic pitching machine, knocking the guy over backwards sitting behind it in a chair. On the forth and final pitch Brian hits it between second and third into the outfield and runs the bases home.
Can we go home now?
Me and my soggy butt, soggy shoes and wet hat get up to find Brian and give him a hug, where he proceeds to load me up with his sweatshirt, glove, hat, bat and ball. I have now become his official coat rack. My feet are so cold I can’t feel them. I am carrying half my son’s closet while he is running and chasing bugs. At least he had the decency to open the car door for me.
We leave baseball to head directly to his basketball game. My own dating life has never been this active. Brian is changing in the car. See – this is my new life. We arrive at the gym just in time for Brian to warm up. At least I get to sit in a chair with a back in a room that is warm and dry. I sit down in time to watch the parent’s of the preceding game gather their kids to leave. I hear several saying, “What time is your soccer game?”
I shudder. it was like someone walking over my grave.
Brian’s team wins their game and Brian points out to me they have only lost when I was not at the game. No guilt.
Finally we are done with Brian’s sports by 1:00pm Saturday and I have a small window to clean the house and get some laundry done.
Sunday afternoon was spent entertaining his two new friends. Why are boys always hungry?
My shoes are still drying.
Until next time-
C
http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com
Tags: mom blogs, parenting blogs, Parenting humor
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