Dumping Daddy

Daddy Ball and when Daddy isn’t wanted anymore

Let me start by saying that there is nothing better than seeing a parent volunteer to coach their child in his or her sport.  I worked at the YMCA for many years and youth sports programs can’t run without caring parents who volunteer to teach young people how to kick a ball, throw a spiral or bunt a bat.  However there comes a time when young athletes outgrow their parent and ultimately have to break up. 

For our family the break up happened around age 10.  Let me start the story when Samuel was 3.  Three seemed to be a little young to play sports, but Sam was athletic, and like I said before I worked at the Y, so I was able to sort of get Sam started early.  Our first venture was t-ball.  My village at the time all participated in coaching.  Sam’s Dad stood at first base, my boyfriend at 2^nd base, my Dad at 3^rd base, and of course me sitting down with the parents behind home plate.   Sam LOVED having all of his favorite people with him.  He would run the bases and high five each person who was coaching that section.  He loved hearing advice from his Dad or my Dad. The games were short (AMEN for T-ball!) and we had a great time.

After we graduated T-ball and ventured into Little League Sam’s dad still volunteered as a coach, but Pop Pop and I stayed in the stands, no comment as to what happened to that boyfriend.  Little league was great because there were more kids to meet, more dads to coach and “real” umpires to work the games.  By around age 8/9 when Sam started pitching we figured out his Dad was a really good pitching coach.  He would work with Sam at home and always helped the other kids out at the fields.  Sam definitely looked up to him for pitching advice and had eyes to be ‘just like Dad’ as far as baseball was concerned.

(Notice boyfriend and ex husband both cut out of this photo)

We joined a travel team and the competition got better, the games got tenser and the coaches’ voices got a lot louder.    What used to be a quick 45 minute game one day a week was turning into six to eight hours at a ball park or an all weekend marathon of baseball.  At this point the boys were getting nervous in the dugout, the coaches were talking strategy and the umpires are getting paid to be at these games.  The tension in the air was slowly getting thicker and I started seeing less smiles on Sam’s face. We were all prepared for more serious baseball and excited to be in a better league. However the tension, yelling, nail biting and fighting with umpires was getting pretty intense.  During one particular game when Sam was on the mound you could hear his Dad criticize each pitch from the dugout. A lightbulb went off for me!  His Daddy as the pitching coach was a bad combination.  I truly don’t remember if we won the game or lost the game. However I do remember driving home in the car.  Sam never cries about sports- ever.  However this particular night in a mix between anger and sadness he blurted out to me that he “didn’t’ want Daddy to coach him anymore.”  He had said the game wasn’t fun anymore and he wanted baseball to be something fun with his dad. 
 I was so proud of Sam and told him he needed to tell his Daddy.   We called his Dad and he told him his wishes. I am not going to lie; it was tough on all of us.  The next day Sam’s Dad came to the game and sat in the stands for the rest of the tournament.  We decided that as much as they both loved to share baseball, the coaching/player relationship was too much for them.   We found a travel team led by coaches who don’t have children on the team and realized that Sam responded really well to their energy and instruction.  Sam still plays Little League and loves all of the volunteer Dads that coach in the system.  His Dad will be a practice coach, pitching coach and work with Sam whenever he needs.  The balance of both has led to a great relationship for him and his Dad.  However, he won’t be calling pitches from the dugout.

Little League Champs 2016!

Quit the Pinterest Board, this is the real list for a Sports Parent

I just read the article 10 Things Every Sports Parent Should Have In Their Car from "I Love to Watch you play Site"  and I felt the need to respond.  I suppose extra socks, a sharpie and a hair tie are items that may come in handy while being a parent of a sports kid. However, I am not sure the parent who wrote the article every actually attended a sporting event or lasted at an all-day tournament in 100 degree weather in between thunderstorms and torrential down pours.   Below is a more practical list of Sh** that needs to be put in your car to survive a sporting event.

1. Food, and a lot of it.  Not snacks, not diet bars, not dehydrated apples.  Face it, you are going to be at the fields for hours.  Start with a breakfast sandwich in the morning, bring some donuts for the team, add in some chips and dips for the 1^st game,  get a sub for the 2^nd game and pray you have enough Oreos and popcorn to make it through the championship.  Remember, no one likes the mom who doesn’t share.  Throw in an extra bag of pretzels and peanut bars for others. 
2. Tanning products.  Do I need to remind you that you will be sitting in the sun for hours and hours?  Why waste that time? Apply some SPF and get to working on your tan.  Leave In conditioners also do really well during the double headers.  You don’t want Timmy or Tommy to get burnt so you may want to up your SPF to 50 and share with the team as well.
3.  Advil.  Some games have really early start times and you may still be feeling the hangover from the night before.  A little Advil and a red bull will help you out for the long day ahead.  If your games are going into overtime, or you are sitting by the loud-ass parent who won’t stop screaming for little Junior, you will definitely need the Advil.  Also, there is always a kid that doesn’t feel well. Pop an Advil for him and you get a few more innings out of him/her.
4. Cell phone and Cell phone charger.  We all love to watch our children play their sport. But there are plenty of times when the game turns into a train wreck and you just can’t watch anymore.  Having your Netflix nearby is a great way to kill some time and distract you from the game. Remember Aps drain your battery life so be sure to have your portable cell phone charger ready.
5. Umbrella.  This is one item that truly is useful.  If there isn’t any shade at the field you can pop it open and create shade.  Plus it is always handy when a rain storm comes through.  Another great use for the umbrella is when you are bit too tired you can prop it up and take a wee bit of a nap under it.  If you put on your sunglasses and prop your feet against the fence you will have a nice siesta.
6.  Cooler with ice.  While it is important to keep your child’s drink cold for game day, it is also important to have cold beverages for the parents.  The games are long and proper hydration is key. I particularly enjoy a sparkly beverage served over ice during a double header.  Some dads prefer a cold brew.  What better way to provide a chilled experience then an ice chest in the trunk?
7.  Tervis Tumbler or Yeti Cup. See above.  The hot summer days melt your ice really quickly and a water downed drink is no fun at all.  Pack an extra cup or two so you can enjoy your beverages with friends.
8.  Febreeze.  There is absolutely no way to get the stink and stank out of your child’s uniform without a deep clean in the washer machine. However, a large dose of Febreeze will help make your drive home more enjoyable.  For road trip games you may want to pack Lysol and Febreeze and kill the smell with a one –two punch.
9.  Cash. No matter how much food, water, bug spray, sunblock, candy, chips, etc. you pack your athlete is going to want something.  And in the want something way that is like “mom, I just must have this or I will die without it” way.  To make matters worse, most of these vendors are cash only.  Save yourself the headache and say yes to that most important thing and take cash with you.
10. Siblings. Yes, it is true that you can’t store the siblings in the car during the games.  However, it is a scientific fact that no one sibling can sit still and pay attention to an entire game. Do yourself a favor and bring more than one of your kids to the field, or invite a playmate to spend the day. Kids are super annoying when they are bored, so better to keep them busy with a friend or two.

Throwback Thursday

 

I was on the phone the other day and a friend said “I really like that Throwback picture of you and your little man.”  I was ready to make my standard witty come back  about how skinny I was, or how good my arms looked or how tan I was back then.  But then it hit me, like a huge block was just dropped on my head and told me to wake up and stop thinking about the way things used to be.

 

Yes, I looked damn good back then.  I was skinny, the skinniest I have ever been.  It is one of the pictures people tell you to tape to your refridgerator door for inspiration, as if seeing yourself skinny is going to take away the craving for ice cream and a beer.  (Sorry to say, but NO picture in the world will ever replace my love of ice cream).

In the briefest moment of complimenting my picture I had a revelation.  I am not that person any more.   I am so much better. 

That skinny version of myself was young and new at being a mommy. I was unsure of myself, my body, my parenting skills,  my career.    Today,  here is no way I would fit into those pants, or even try on that shirt (why set yourself up for failure?)    My arms are thicker, but they are also stronger.  I have been able to play with my little man for 8 more years and have developed muscles that help me lift him up when he falls down, throw a football and lug a surfboard, cooler and beach chair to the ocean.  My legs are stronger, not from the gym, but from running mile after mile catching up with him on a skateboard.  My butt is definitely rounder than it used to.  Maybe it is from sitting on my behind for endless hours of baseball tournaments?  And my stomach is certainly not flat anymore, but that is because I discovered the benefits of sitting with girlfriends and catching up over a bottle or two of good wine.

I am not bashing throw back Thursday and my photos.  I love looking back and remembering fun times.  I am realizing how amazing my life has turned out to be.  Maybe I should start a new trend “Love Yourself Friday”?   Because for right now I am not going to wish I looked like I used to, or feel sad that my favorite size 6 pants don’t fit.  I am happy to embrace my version of myself and celebrate how far I have come.

 

I took a vacation and I have no photos to prove it.

I took a vacation and I have no photos to prove it.

Yep, that is correct! I took a week off with my friends and family and have no photos to prove anything happened.  And you know what?  It was awesome!

This past Spring Break I decided to cash in on some vacation days and take my little man to Universal Studios.  I was very excited to be away from work and the daily grind and to be honest, pretty stoked about the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.  It had been a few years since my little man and I went on a vacation just the two of us and I was happy to get some alone time with him.

Of course the first thing I did was take a photo of him under the entrance to the welcome sign, next up ticket booth and another photo.

Mandatory shot walking in to park

Next thing I knew he was meeting the guys from Men in Black and I quickly hunted for my phone to get a photo of the event. 

I couldn't get my phone to work, had to improvise!

 

 

 



First Line at the park... apparently it was photo worthy?
 



 On and on it went, me rushing from spot to spot, trying frantically to get a photo of a special moment so that I could tweet/Facebook/Instagram it for all of my followers/friends/strangers to see and take part in our memories.

Then my phone died. 

DIED.

As in, stopped working, caput, no service. 

I was about ready to head to the ET ride and get him to phone home for me when I decided not to freak out.  I quietly put away my link to the outside world as I crossed under the gates to Jurassic Park.   I grabbed a hold of my little man’s hand (ok, not really, he’s too big now to hold hands, but I was allowed to hold on to the strap of his book bag). So there I was, holding on to my precious son - via his book bag and I was happy.

We had a great time!  I didn’t miss any special moments searching in my purse for my phone.  I didn’t make him wait in between rides so I could upload our most recent adventure.  After a few hours of not having my phone those who still had them out started getting on my nerves.  I wanted to yell at the lady in front of us in line for Despicable Me to put her phone down and actually talk to her kids (when else will you have all your children in one spot with nowhere to go?  Literally you are trapped like sardines; you can get some mad family bonding done in those lines!)  I was tempted to the tell kids behind us at the restaurant to put their gaming devices down and enjoy the show – their parents paid A LOT of money for this vacation and they should embrace every moment.

But I didn’t say anything.  I just sat there and was thankful that I woke up to my over use of the cell phone.

We were racing from Spiderman back to Hogwarts when I made a comment about the overuse of cell phones in Universal.  **Disclaimer, many people download an ap that has a map and wait times for the park rides. While this is useful, it is NOT smart to stop in the middle of the walkway and use such ap.  But I digress….

I said “I really think they should not allow cell phones in the park.  Too many people stop in the middle of the street and cause backups.”  My little man looked at me and said, “I know mommy, just look at how awesome this place is! Everything here is so cool.  Much better than looking at your phone.”

And that is when it happened… I realized I didn’t need any more photos of precious moments.  I was making them WITH my son, not saving them for later or posting to the interwebs.

We had a great week at Universal studios and I have no photos to prove it.

 

Sorority Life

The other morning I was texting with 2 of my Sorority Sisters.  My little man asked me who I was texting.  I told him that it was Aunt Katy and Aunt Jess.  He looked confused (as I only have one biological sister). 

I told him that we were sorority sisters and again he had a puzzled look on his face.  “What IS that Mom?” he asked.    Well, I said Mommy had a lot of friends in college and all of the girls were in a Sorority.  We lived in a house and had a lot of fun together.  “Wow, that must be a big house!” he said.

Yes, I told him, we had a big house, and a house mom who made sure the house was taken care of and cooked for us and we all had meals together.   “Whoa!” he said.  “I want one of those!”

I just sat there stunned.  (What does he think I do all day?)

I replied, Little Man you DO have one of those.  I am the MOM and that’s what I do. 

“I guess so Mom, but I really want to be in a Sorority when I go to college.”

I took a deep breathe,

replied…

let me tell you about Fraternities.

Back to Blogging

So I haven’t blogged in a while… I know you are all so sad.

 

Honestly, I have a policy of not blogging about current life events.  (As in, I couldn’t tell you about my dating life in case the man of the hour was reading my blog)  Also I wasn’t quite sure where this blog was going, it felt like it was kind of lost in the cyberworld of blogs gone bad.

When I started blogging I was just ranting about dating and being single.  Then I learned to adjust to being single and got over the rants.  I then started blogging about being a mom, got super busy actually being a mom and didn’t blog.  Next, I started listening to all of the buzz about “Leaning In” and “Girl Power” and “Ban Bossy” and I thought to myself that I too need to make a statement and be super awesome and fight some sort of injustice all via my wise words on this blog.

Talk about a stress!

I gave up.

I couldn’t think of a thing to say.  I like my life. I’m not angry at anyone or anything.  I actually don’t mind getting up and going to work as I have a cool job and I think I get paid really well for it.  I am by no means a super mom, but my kid doesn’t spend any time in the principal’s office (ok, maybe a little?), he has friends, isn’t obese and from what I can tell is doing ok.  I am not in a serious relationship, but if I ever need a date to something I can find a handsome man to take me, or I am just as comfortable going by myself.   All in all I have nothing much to rant about.

Then it hit me… the title of my blog is “DUH! Sometimes you just need to say it.”  This my friends was my big DUH moment.  People don’t read my blog for my advice.  People don’t even read my blog because they care about what I have to say.  People read my blog because it is random, sometimes funny, sometimes sappy, and 100 % honest.

So, ladies and gents I am BACK to Blogging!  I have no idea what the next blog will be or if you will like it.  But I can promise you this. I won’t have an agenda, a plan or a slogan.  I am just me blogging about the stuff that pops into my head and I hope you enjoy it. 

I’m Sexy and I know It

We are fortunate to live by the beach and my Little Man has been taking surf lessons since he was three.  He loves the water and fortunately for me he loves surf camp.  (What Mom wouldn’t like spending a relaxing day at the beach WITHOUT having to worry about their kids? Anyway, I digress).

I was dropping Little Man off at camp one morning and the head counselor came up to me in sort of a hushed tone.  “Little Man got himself a nick name this summer” the counselor said.  I smiled and took it as a sign of him fitting in and making friends.  I dropped of the surfboard off and proceeded to find my beach chair and book.  Surf camp is great book reading and tanning time for the Mommy!

A few hours later after camp was letting out I see my Little Man and his Junior Counselor running down the beach.  I then hear a 15 year old girl running after them yelling “Hey Sexy, wait up!” I thought it was a bit weird to hear a 15 year old call a 13 year old sexy, but whatever, I was enjoying my book and free time.

The next weekend I’m at the beach and one of the regular surf guys comes up to me and asks me something like “Hey, where’s sexy?”  I am completely confused and sort of take it as a compliment.  I smile and nod and just pretend that I don’t quite understand (You know, like when you missed the joke, but are afraid to say it.)

The following day I have Little Man with me and the same surf guy comes up to us. He high fives Little Man and says “Hey Sexy, what’s up?” 

WAIT A MINUTE!?!

Is my Little Man the “Sexy” that they keep talking about at the beach? 

He is 8! This is crazy. 

I quickly ask how Little Man got this nick name.  Apparently, Little Man is extremely confident in his surfing skills. During camp he would get up on a wave and say, “Look at me, I’m so sexy!”  Oh Lord help me!

I kind of laugh it off, take Little Man aside and tell him 8 year olds are Not Sexy and that it is not a good thing to say.  He agrees and we let it go. Plus, baseball season was starting and there was no way the boys on the baseball field were going to be ok playing with a player nicknamed “sexy”.

Life has been quiet for me and Little Man, but every few weekends we run into a few of the surf guys at the beach and they are still looking for “Sexy” to come out and surf with them.

A little coffee talk....

“Mom, do you think that machine can switch to Louisiana language?”

I never know what is going to come out of my Little Man’s mouth and this morning I was totally confused.

This past weekend I finally entered the modern world and got a Keurig.   Ok, to be honest, I was at a fundraising auction and there was one that not many people were bidding on.  Yes, I realize this is because EVERYONE on the planet already has a Keurig and I am behind the times.  Anyway, for the sake of charity I bought a Keurig. 

It turns out that I bought a super deluxe version of the little coffee genius.  (True confession, I am deeply in love with my shiny metal best friend that lives on my kitchen counter).  My Keurig is amazing!  It keeps the water hot – not like the old model in my office.  It has 8 settings for sizes of cups, yes 8 options!  And while your delicious hot beverage is brewing it plays a little movie of coffee and the hills of Jamaica or wherever coffee is grown.

So, this little contraption is now the center of my Little Man’s world in the morning.  He eagerly makes me a cup of Joe.  I can’t figure out if he likes pressing the buttons or watching the movie more, but either way I am NOT going to complain.

Since my son is ever so observant he read every button and screen on the digital display.  There is a screen that says “Española” and “François”.  He asked what that meant, I told him that was for people who would prefer to read in either Spanish or French.  He was cool with that answer, added milk to my coffee and went about his morning.

A few minutes later, as he was getting dressed for school he asks me, “Mom, does that thing show you Louisiana language?”  I told him that people from Louisiana speak English or some natives speak French.  “No Mommy, they don’t.  They speak Louisiana.”  I was a bit confused about what he meant.  He said “well mommy they spell ‘go’ funny like ‘geaux’, but they don’t mess with ‘Tiger’ because everyone knows you can’t change ‘Tiger’. 

Oh dear!  The joys of raising an LSU fan in Florida…..

DUH! moment of the day....

This photo popped up in my suggested matches on E Harmony.  Please note I haven't been a subscriber in a long time, but somehow they still feel the need to match me.  Anyway I digress....

Really guy, you are a psychic!?! 

Maybe if you were good at your job you would KNOW you were going to get a date and not need an online service? 

Just a thought...

That's some funny Sh*t

I’m funny. 

I can’t say I’m funny in a stand-up comedian kind of way.   I’m funny more in the “What the hell keeps happening to me!?!” kind of way.  Let’s just say that funny just kind of finds me and then I am able to re-tell the tale.   I tend to always have a funny story to share over the office Keurig.  (Ok, we are a modern office and don’t have a water cooler, so no need to use the water cooler reference)  And at happy hour I am sure to come up with some sort of loony tale of something that happened during my day that will have my friends giggling in their Pinot Grigio.  I am never short on stories for small talk and can usually hold my own in a conversation.

Until one weekend at work…  I happened to be working an event where Seth Rogen was spending three days with us.  Since I am always a professional I just went about my business, doing my job and being appropriately social.   Meanwhile inside I was dying to get a few minutes with Seth. I mean- that guy is FUNNY (with a capital F).  I am not a script writer and I didn’t have anything to pitch him, but I still wanted to at least have more of a conversation with him than small talk about our chicken kabobs.

The last party of the weekend was winding down and I was bone tired (Not sure what that really means, but if it means so tired your bones actually hurt – well I was).  I was slowly making my way to the hotel elevator when who do I see waiting for an elevator but Seth and his wife?   Since there was a long wait for the elevator I grabbed a few waters from the Hotel Concierge and shared with the Rogens.  We chatted about college life (the fact that Seth didn’t go to college) and how movies reflect colleges.  This was my moment!  I went to college, I had funny things happen.  I quickly racked my brain.  I shared my funniest memory of college that I swear should be in a movie. 

Set the scene:  A Southern Sorority House, quiet spring morning, just before the first class would start about 7:15 a.m.  Everyone in the house is sound asleep, except the one sister who is studiously dedicated to her business major.  Her petite frame is loaded down with books.  She carries a banana and a cup of coffee in her hand.

Action:  The girl opens the big wooden door of the house, hands full and not really looking at where she is going.  She steps directly into an open Port-O-Potty and screams!   Suddenly the entire house of girls is up and wondering what the sound (and the smell) is coming from the foyer.  Chaos ensued.

Yep, friends, this is a true story.  Some of the members of our neighboring Fraternity decided it would be a funny prank to put a Port-O-Potty on our front door step with its door open so that whoever left our house would walk directly into the smelly hut. 

So, anyway I was able to relay my little scene for Seth on our elevator ride to our hotel rooms.  As he was getting off the elevator he looked at me and said “Wow, you are funny, and that is some funny  Sh*t.”

I definitely appreciated the compliment. (And if you ever see a scene like that in a movie, you can thank me for the inspirational story)

How does your last year look?

Last night I was having dinner with a friend and we were reflecting on our past year.  She mentioned that she wasn’t really in the holiday mood and was pretty much looking forward to 2012 being over.   She told me that she started off last year dating a new guy, moving into a new apartment and excited about her job.  But she is ending the year not dating anyone, frustrated at her noisy neighbors and overworked and underpaid at her job.   When you look at your life in such a way as that I guess she had a point.

Which led me to think about my past year…(if this were a sitcom I would insert some music and make the screen fuzzy to insinuate time travel)….

At this time last year I was starting a new job that WAY underpaid me (but it was a job so I took it!), living with my son at my parents’ house, driving a car that didn’t belong to me (thanks Mom and Dad!) and probably not dating anyone (Ok, sorry about  not know this last fact, but I truly don’t remember my relationship status, which leads me to believe no one of value was in my life at the time).

So here I am in a job that pays well (thank you holiday bonus!), driving a new car I pay for, living in a house I rent and still not dating anyone of mention… If you compare apples to apples, or oranges to oranges, or whatever the heck you want to compare my past year was pretty good!

But I digress… while discussing our success and/or failure of 2012 my friend and I came up with as Oprah would say an “AHA! Moment.”   Basically I think you can determine your attitude about yourself and your past year if you measure it against a goal.  Last year about this time my only goals were to pay my bills and not fight with my mom over turning lights on and off in the house – she is a consistent “Turn the lights off” person and I tend to be a “leave a light on for someone” person.  As you may imagine our lighting philosophies tended to lead to some royal battles.   So I started this year with reasonably attainable goals.  Once I started accomplishing these little goals I was able to really start enjoying my year; new job!  New friends! New travels! New dates! A few bad dates! (Ok, they get explanation points too because, let’s be real, my dating life is HILARIOUS at times) and on and on my list went with new things.

I decided last night that my goal in life (at this moment) is to be a good mom.  Really, simply, that is it.  I have a job that allows me to put my Little Man first.  I have friends who know my son is my priority and I only will date people who understand that as well.  Sure, my long term goals will be to retire wealthy, buy a beach house and travel to Europe.  Of course my professional goals are to get promoted, be recognized as a leader and contribute to our society.  However, for 2013 my one simple goal is to be a good mom and I am happy to say that I am 100% committed to the task. 

As for my friend?   I am not yet sure what her 2013 goals are but I may suggest finding a new place to live as her neighbors really are noisy!

I guess moms can be embarrassing too.

 I have always been the type of mom who makes sure my Little Man is dressed nicely, is polite and well behaved.  Since I am a single mom who works full time my Little Man often tags along with me to work events and community projects I am a part of.  I’ve always stressed manners and have taught him to make good impressions on people (I mean really, I don’t want to be the lady with the kid who looks like a hobo and has runs around like a crazy kid!) 

Apparently over this last week my son has noticed that having his mom around is not the coolest thing.

Exhibit 1: I pick him up at the school office.  Little Man comes down to the office and the secretary, teacher and other moms all talk about how “cute” and “adorable” my Little Man is.  They go on and on about his blue eyes, his smile and his manners.  Of course as a Mom I eat this up. Little Man just stares at me giving me the stink eye.

Exhibit 2:  I take Little Man with me to the office holiday BBQ.  My coworker brought his boys so Little Man is happily swimming and playing with the other kids.  It was getting time to leave and I noticed that my Little Man had HUGE grass stains on his pants.  “Little Man” I yell, “Come over here” I then proceed to tell him that we are going to his Pop Pop’s Holiday Party and he can’t be dirty.  He looks at me, gives me the eye and whispers “Can’t you just call him Granddad?”  His attitude was like a little gangster who just got called out in front of his crew- he was so frustrated with me for using “baby” words and pointing out his good clothes got dirty.  Oops!

Exhibit 3:  We have a few high school and college boys who live on our street.  Little Man likes to play catch with them when they are home on break.  The other night he got all dressed and ready to play, but unfortunately the boys had to go inside.  Not to let my Little Man be disappointed, I volunteered to play catch.  (Side note: One random thing I can do pretty well is throw a football.)  So there we are,  out in the front of the house tossing the ball and I am coaching my Little Man on the best way to throw a spiral.  “Straight like this,” and “stop throwing high, just aim here.”  Little Man kept looking behind him and over his shoulder, glancing up the street.  I couldn’t figure out what his deal was.  Then I heard it “I can’t believe I’m learning football from a girl!” 

Duh! My Little Man was embarrassed that his Mom was playing with him AND was good at it.

Well Little Man, lesson learned for both of us.  I will do my best to stop being embarrassing and you do your best to keep hanging out with me.

Baby Got Back

Maybe my OCD when it comes to having things correct is getting a bit out of control?

I have blogged before about my addiction to proper grammar, so I won’t bore you with that rant.  However I have come to realize that I am pretty much made up of the attitude “if you are going to do something, do it right.”  Seems like a good thing to insist on as a mom, employer, friend, etc.  However I think I have taken my belief a little too far.

First of all, I am stickler for doing homework properly.  In my house this means neat handwriting, full sentences with complete thoughts and taking your time to understand your work.  My Little Man HATES doing homework with me.  He prefers to slide it by his Nanny who happily ok’s his work and gives him hugs and snacks, or my Dad who is usually a bit distracted and trusts that he has gotten it all correct.  I want my son to be learning something, but I also don’t want the teacher who corrects his work to think I’m one of those parents who is too busy to care about his education. I mean, I don’t pick him up from school, I don’t volunteer in the classroom, and I barely pack his lunch.  The least I could do is send him to school with a good round of well thought out completed homework.

The second area of life where I have accidentally over influenced my Little Man is on his outfits.  I just don’t deal well with kids that don’t match.  (Yes, I know all of you parents out there that it is GOOD to let your kid express himself through choosing his own clothes, and yes I know I am probably stifling my son’s creativity.) However, watching my son walk around in two forms of camoflauge paired with stripes and argyle socks stifles my sanity and I am not going to put up with it.  I happily provide my son with plenty of outfit choices and I always buy things in a set so that he can see what matches with what.  I supply basketball shoes for basketball attire, sneakers for the athletic look, boots for skinny jeans and deck shoes for the casual weekend.  Yes, I may go a little overboard with my son’s wardrobe, and yes I did just have to buy him a new dresser to hold his gear.  But, my OCD self is much happier toting around a color coordinated appropriately dressed kid.

This past weekend I realized that my desire to have everything “right” has probably crossed the line.   I found myself teaching my son the words to “Baby Got Back.”  Somehow my Little Man heard parts of the song.  I still am trying to figure out how this song got played in 2012 when it was popular in 1998 but I digress…  I hear my son singing some words like “I like big butts and I lie”.  Oh stop right there! If you are going to sing a song, sing it right Little Man.  “No baby” I tell him, its “I like big butts and I cannot lie” and I go on singing the words.  First, he is super impressed that his Mom knows all of the words (ok, one talent I have his memorizing cheesy rap songs).  Second, he tries to follow along.  “When a girl walks up with a circle thing in your face you go crazy!” he sings.   “No baby the words are…” and I continue. 

Then I realize that not only am I teaching my son inappropriate lyrcis, I am teaching him in public, on a crowded street and other people can hear me.  Ok, I think to myself, I have officially taken my control of all things to make them correct to a whole new level.  I must stop and let go, and I am choosing to do it with “Baby got Back.”

I swear I didn't plan this blog.

I’m a planner. I admit it.  If there were a planning addiction group I would join it.  Then I would plan on becoming it's President.

I plan random things.  I never was one to plan really big picture things.  I never planned where I wanted to go to college.  My parents suggested a few places, I got in, and I went.  But I did plan every last detail of what I would pack, what my room would look like and how I would make new friends.  I was never one of those girls who had their wedding, kids, job after college planned out.  I planned a road trip to D.C.  met a guy, got married then pregnant on our honeymoon (Let me tell you NO ONE plans to do that!).  I then planned the nursery, our house furniture and my labor and delivery schedule. 

I like to plan. I find it comforting to know ahead of time what to expect.    I plan my outfits, my hair styles, and I always plan on being on time (ok, I’m a bit OCD I tend to plan to be early).  You would think all of my planning would make my life an organized peaceful existence.

Until you’re planning involves others!

My family learned years and years ago to sort of ignore my planning.  I call it planning; they may call it slightly overexagerated expectations of others – Tomato/Tomata. Once I planned a wonderful warm Thanksgiving dinner, with pressed cloth napkins, place cards and classical music in the background.  I got a Crazy-Ass Family Turkey Day complete with party crashers, tears over the Turducken (Turkey/Duck/Chicken) and three types of sweet potato casseroles. DEFINTELY NOT in my plan.

I planned my son’s nursery and existence to match mine.  I had a huge fear that my house would be the type of house you walk into and because of its red, blue and yellow Duplex boxes combined with playschool power wheels the house would scream “A KID LIVES HERE”.  I promised myself my son was coming into my life and I would maintain our adult existence. For the first 8 months of my son’s life he was only allowed toys that were green, khaki or white. I planned the color scheme to coordinate with my furniture and other décor.  His burp cloths, blankets, floor mats all nicely matched my throw pillows and sconces.  Life was color coordinated peace.  Until he learned to walk and needed things with wheels and sounds, and apparently things with colors are GOOD for children.  Needless to say my plan went out the window.

My planning prowess has reached a new challenge, that of the world of dating as an adult.  Typically my plans for an evening out revolve around me, my schedule and my commitments.  Enter in a grown man with a job, maybe a kid, maybe a hobby and my planning gets all out of whack!  As I get older (maybe more mature) I find myself wanting to date guys with grown-up jobs, you know the guys – those that have responsibility, maybe a few people working for them, budgets, meetings, so on.  These guys are interesting, can have an actual conversation and have a lot of potential.  Know what the downfall of this guy is ??? 

His plan doesn’t always conform to my plan.

Total challenge for this self-declared President of the Planners Addiction Club.  What do you mean you will be late to drinks because you have a crisis at work?  Or, you can’t take my random call in the middle of the day because I want to plan what we are having for dinner?   And so it goes more and more interruptions to my planning perfection.

Just this morning I was talking to someone about his plans for the day.  I asked typical planning questions like, “what time are your friends coming over?” and “how long are they staying?”   His answer, “I don’t know.”  I suggested he didn’t pay too much attention to details in his life.  He replied “I let life happen.”

Wow!

It hit me. 

Maybe all of the times I spend trying to plan the small details of my life I should relax and let some of life just happen?

Good idea.  I will get right on it, I will just have to plan to add “letting life happen” to my schedule!

I love you baby, but please roll over….

Being a working mom is busy, being a working single mom is rough, being a working single mom when every last one of your babysitters is out of town and you have a HUGE deadline and a sick kid is just plain miserable.

I am always the first to say that I am thankful for a great job with a flexible schedule.  I have amazing parents who are good babysitters and I have a village of friends who help out in a pinch.  What is that old saying, “when it rains it pours?”  Yep, it was pouring germs in my house all week and weekend.

My Little Man came home from spending Thanksgiving with his Dad with an awful cough.  Because I missed my baby so much I let him stay home from school to recover (I shuttled him between grandparents and babysitters and took a turn at home with him for a few hours on Thursday).   I was able to get a few meetings and phone calls in, loaded him up with Nyquil and planned on a day of meetings for Friday.

Friday came and the cough was worse, I emailed the office and declared I was working from home. Loaded my baby up on some cough medicine, Tylenol and Disney movies and even did a few rounds of laundry.

By Saturday my Little Man was still coughing and we hit the Doctor’s office, where they immediately sent us to the Hospital for X-rays.  My Little Man came down with a case of Pneumonia.   What!?!   We stopped at the pharmacy for his medicines and I loaded up on every variety of Lysol and Bleach I could find.

I gave him a dose (ok, two doses of his meds) tucked him in, and went to work.  No, I didn’t go back to replying to emails or checking phone messages – I started disinfecting. Every surface, vent, pillowcase, dish, nook and cranny got scrubbed, bleached, sprayed and sanitized.

Mommy has a big week ahead and I am taking no chances!  

True confession – I am not afraid of germ.   I am afraid of coming down with the flu or a virus and not having my mommy or someone to take care of me and my Little Man.

What is worse than being sick?  Being a sick mom! 

Seriously, do you realize how bad it is when the Mom has the fever or a stomach virus?  Moms don’t get to stop their jobs and remote in.  I still will have to make lunch, help with homework and bath time, sign permission slips and walk the dogs.  Someone still has to drive carpool, clean the dishes, pay the bills and remember what uniform day it is at school.  So needless to say, my biggest fear is being sick when my village is on vacation.

 Crap, crap, crap!  My Village is in California for the week!

When my Little Man is sick, he gets all cuddly and wants to be hugged and snuggled.  He’s cute. I don’t mind.  But when he has GERMS with a big G like Pneumonia I spend my time balancing his hugs and avoiding his kisses.  I mean I love my kid, but my week is way too packed to get sick today.  I successfully avoid him during the days and take an entire bottle of Vitamin C to create my force field.

I happily go to bed early and am in a deep sleep, when all of a sudden I feel something breathing on my face… Uh oh! GERMS!  (I can’t scream or yell, I mean he is only 7 and has no idea what he is doing spreading his big G GERMS all over me)

I gently pat his back, tell him to roll over, and spray his pillow and mine with Lysol.

T Minus 5 days until my village returns.

A little hearing can go a long way

“Mom I can’t hear."  

What?!?!?  Not this again.  

When my Little Man was 3 we realized that he was pretty much deaf.  He was toddling through life reading lips.  You know when a little kid gets on your lap, grabs your cheeks and looks you in the eye and you think, isn’t that cute he loves me?  Well, my baby boy was doing that all of the time and I just sat there thinking he loved me so much.  Turns out, he couldn’t hear and was doing that to read my lips.  (Insert tear and heartbreak here)

Fast forward a few years, a few ear surgeries and a lot of Dr. appointments later and I think we are all in the clear.  Then I come home to “I can’t hear."

Crap, Crap and double Crap! 

I immediately go into super mommy mode.  I call the surgeon and insist on the very next appointment.  I call the pediatrician and book a backup appointment; I rearrange my work schedule and get Little Man out school in time for the appointment. 

Yep, ears are blocked, partly infected, partly gooey buildup and a whole lot of who knows what?  The Dr. was able to get the left ear clear and gave us meds for the right.  Little Man is now seemingly back to normal (or as normal as you can be on 50% hearing) and we proceed through our days – me being Supermom and him being Awesomekid!

Until he becomes the pitcher at the baseball game.  We are at the fields, I’m in the bleachers sporting my mommy gear talking to the baseball mommies, Little Man enters the field and takes the pitcher’s mound.   Not to brag, but my Little Man is a good baseball player, like naturally good, he can basically catch anything thrown at him and has really great hand/eye coordination.  I look at him and he is so excited to be playing Pitcher.

Then it happened… the first ball gets hit right at him and he can’t find it.  Next ball, hit towards him and it goes under his legs, then the next he catches but misthrows to first, and on and on.  It was like watching a person who had never played ball before.  I started shrinking down and trying to hide between the mommies.  The coaches were yelling, the dads were yelling, heck even the kids were yelling!  No matter what was hit towards him, he just couldn’t get the ball. 

Then I overhear a mommy from the 2^nd row bleacher “I don’t think that kid can hear” she says.

Oh CRAP!  That is right!  They put this big helmet over my little guy’s head to protect him from the balls, but it also must be blocking out all of the sound. I forgot to tell the coach that my Little Man was only playing with about 50% hearing.  I now shrink even further down into the cold bleachers.  How did SuperMom overlook the one thing I had been focused on all week?!?!?!

Somehow we made it out of the inning and my Little Man got relieved as pitcher.  He had a great rest of the game and the team won.

When I asked him about being pitcher, he told me it was “Awesome!”   I’m glad to see that my Little Man didn’t let all of the yelling from the fans and the coaches get to him. 

Wait, who am I kidding?  He couldn’t HEAR them!