Baseball season is winding down. And we've been missing in action. The big opening day family celebration came and went a couple months ago. We weren't there eating our hot dogs and mingling with the hundreds of other families involved in baseball like we've done for the past who-knows-how-many years. We were home doing our Saturday chores and jumping on the trampoline.
And you know what? I'm ok with that. It's bitter-sweet. As much as I love to see my boy out there playing ball, baseball season is crazy. The multiple practices and games every week with little girls throwing tired tantrums at my feet are gone...the colorful craziness fading and becoming muted in my mind. Trips to every sports store in town to try to find the right color socks or belt are gone by the wayside. Coach gifts, treat duty, field clean-up, not-signing-up-for-team-
mom-guilt, picture day...all finished. And that's fine by me!
The thing I'm not ok with is that my one son is done. He wants to focus on tennis and basketball and we're good with that. But it's the end of a part of motherhood I've lived for so many years. And it makes me sad. It wrenches my heart a little. I mean, look at this boy:
Who wouldn't want to sit and soak that kid in for hours on end?
And then there's cub scouts. Max had his very last pinewood derby a couple months ago. Then he got his Arrow of Light last week. And as much there are some things that drive me nuts about scouts, I couldn't help but feel a little bit melancholy that it's over. (Yes there's boy scouts, but the shift is like a graduation...one that I'm not ready for.) It made me sad to see Dave and Max really working together to make that darn little car, and to know it was the last one. How could my one boy do this to me? How did it happen that he was just this boy:Who drew pictures like this:
And now he's this one:Then Lucy had to go ahead and go to nursery at church. Ok, so I'm really actually totally good with that one. I got really sad the Sunday before her first week in nursery, and then after the fifth throw-your-head-back-and-hit-the-floor fit during Relief Society I decided I was ok with the transition.
Before I get too sad and tears start spilling out, I have to remember that along with sad "lasts" there are also invigorating "firsts." And that's the most amazing thing I've realized about being a mom: it just keeps getting better. Crazier, busier, but yes, even better.
But still...PLEASE don't grow up so fast!