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.

It's only a week....

This week starts a new challenge for me.

No, I’m not restarting my 90 day challenge nor am I training for a new race, nor did I decide to take on any extreme sports….  I am becoming a ‘One Week On, One Week Off Parent’.  

For the past five years I have put up the argument that my little man needs to be with his Mommy as much as possible.  Sure, he can see his Dad whenever he wants, and yes I encourage long weeks away on family vacations with the “other family.”  But all in all, I knew that I had my little man at home with me most of the time.  I was content, my little man with me and all was right in the world.

Then it hit me!  My little man is growing up.  He has friends and not all of his friends live in my neighborhood.  He has sisters – you guessed it, they live at his Dad’s house.  He has toys and games and bikes and an entire little life and I am not part of it. 

I asked my little man his thoughts on going to his Dad’s for one week and my house for one week?   His response was something like this: “Mom, why are we STILL talking about this? I told Dad this so many times. I am o.k. with staying for a week.  I would like it.  Plus, really Mom, it’s just a week.”

Ok, little Dude, I hear you.  It really is ‘just a week’.   I can try to do this.

So, after much deliberation, a few long talks with girlfriends and other single parents and a few sad thoughts, I gave in.  I am going to try this out and see how it goes.   I packed up not one, but three bags of stuff for my little man – baseball gear, baseball uniforms for a week, swim gear, ear meds, summer homework, summer reading lists, school supply list and directions a mile long on all the ins and outs of having my little man for a week.

My little man was set and I was mentally prepared for my one week "off".    I dropped him off and unloaded his luggage while his step mom looked at me with crazed eyes and an overwhelmed expression.  Apparently, in all of the debating and fighting back and forth about our one week on/off program, my ex -husband forgot to mention to his wife that our little man will be with them for a week!  She will now be handling the camp drop off, the lunches, the pick-up and the homework, meals and all the other fun of having three kids at home for the summer.

I quickly hugged and kissed my little man and ran out of the house as fast as I could.  I swear I could see the steam coming off the step mommy and I was not about to be a part of that conversation.  I will be happily enjoying my “off week” and I might suggest to Super Step Mommy to repeat as I do  - “it’s only a week, it’s only a week, it’s only a week….”

The things we do for love...

There is nothing I despise more than spending my Saturday morning at the little league field – really nothing tops the discomfort I feel. 

My people skills and personality have helped me get far in life and I’ve successfully conquered closed societies like the High School Cheerleading Squad, a Southern Sorority (new member of the year and President), secret societies (sorry, you won’t get the name out of me), the local HOA, and even the PTA.  But for some unknown reason the cliques of the Little League leave me shivering with uneasiness.   I am not sure who scares me more; the clusters of happy moms sipping their Evian and pushing their strollers, or the groups of Dads scouting the players and predicting who the ringers will be, or the groups of grandparents in their pop up chairs trying to hold on to the toddlers who are too young to play, but are dressed like their older siblings anyway.  Either way, each group is an unwelcome challenge that leaves me dreading Saturday a.m.

…this leads me to my little man. 

 I honestly have never said no to my son (ok, yes I say NO to things like No new pets, No you can’t eat that, No you cannot jump off the roof).   However if the request is reasonable and no one is going to be harmed, than I generally go along with it for the happiness of my little man.  I’ve taken him on trips, we’ve tried new adventures, I’ve enrolled him in every sport you can imagine and I’ve happily been the snack mom.  I’ve gone as far as coach the cheerleaders for his flag football team, because no other mom would and I had a few pom poms and spirit dust in my closet.  But, I draw the line at Little League. 

I’ve pawned off the practices and games to everyone I can think of. I’ve corralled my parents into helping, let my ex husband have him extra days, scheduled Drs. Appointments, anything I can think of to NOT have to go the dreaded little league field. 

So imagine my dilemma when my little man comes home from baseball practice asking me to be the dugout mom.  WHAT?!?! How did the devil get a hold of my little man and play games with my baby?!  There is NO WAY I can be the dugout mom. 

I tried to stall.  “Mom, the coach really needs you now”. 

I tried to deflect.  “Don’t you like Karate more than baseball?”

I tried to play dumb.  “I don’t know anything about baseball.”

Then he hit me with the knockout punch.  “Mom you would get to spend time with me and be the coolest mom on the team.”

Ouch!

He got me.  He hit me where it hurts. 

Of course I’ll be the dugout mom.  Of course I’ll label all your bags, memorize the line-up, figure out  which kids have peanut allergies and make sure you all get bathroom breaks.  Of course I’ll bring coffee, have band aids and smile while all of the dads yell at me about the line up and the moms question me about this week’s snack.

At least I won’t have to deal with the Evian sipping moms or the grandparents in their pop up chairs.

Go Cubs!