Run With The Fishes

Next year I will be the mother of a teenager. Please send help.

To Nathan, a week and 5 days after his 12th birthday,

Last year, I started writing about turning eleven and never posted it. Just know, that at the beginning, eleven was a rough age. It started a month or so before you really turned eleven. It was emotional, opinionated, misunderstood, and danced a fine line between still wanting to act like a child and wanting become a little more grown up. There were teams that didn’t win a single game, broken fingers and staph infections which added physical turmoil to the emotional.

Some people might have caved in with all of that heaped on them over just a few months. Not you. You endured. When things don’t go your way, you are learning how to shrug it off. You are incredibly stubborn so it’s not always an easy thing to do. We can see the effort you make. You have proven a few times (even though proof wasn’t necessary) how tough and brave you really are.

You are our guinea pig. The first born of your family and all of our friends. Parenting is a learning experience that is constantly evolving. It’s a wonder we haven’t really screwed you up. One of my hopes is that you and your sisters will be confident people. That you will know you are capable of doing anything you set out to do and are worthy of the praises people will give you. Sometimes I worry that we are too hard on you. That somewhere along the way, we have squashed some of your self-confidence. When I see you walk with your shoulders slouched and your head hanging low, I just want to bundle you up and smother you in hugs and kisses. I know, I know. Not going to happen. Although, I have noticed that you don’t really mind if I give you a hug every now and then anymore. You have no idea how happy this makes me.

Sometime during this year, you have become more confident in who you are as a person. You take pride in what you do well. You are a terrific sport.

You aren’t afraid to be silly sometimes, even out in public.

You have grown (more than just those 2 1/2″). You can see it in how you interact with others. It shows in how you walk. It’s a transformation that is amazing to watch.

Without you I never would have been a mother. You have opened up my heart in more ways than I could have ever imagined. Even though it would cause you no end of embarrassment, I constantly want to stand up and cheer, “See that awesome kid? He’s my son!”.

It has been brought to my attention by the management, that (with the exception of my post about Maddie) there really hasn’t been too much posting going on here over the past month. Also, that it has been at least 3 weeks since any pictures have been uploaded from my computer to the flickr account.

What can I say? It’s been crazy busy. Rest assured good-doers. I’m planning to remedy that this weekend. Instead of our super fun camping trip that was planned and now postponed due to hazardous weather, I’ll be sitting in front of my laptop editing possibly thousands of pictures and putting together a few posts about what really has been going on around here. Until then, here’s a picture to tide you over. It is straight of of the camera. No edits, only uploads.

I’ve needed to write a post about all of the ball playing my children have been doing. About how after her first practice, Alli decided that she hated softball, it was boring and she never wanted to play again. Then when they had the next practice, at the real field she absolutely loved it. Running bases is her favorite thing to do. She still goes back and forth between loving and hating it. Hates the practices, loves batting and running the bases.

Reading Heather’s post last week about how she played ball when she was younger reminded me again that I needed to write up a quick post about what was happening with the girls on the field. She took Maddie to a game and Maddie loved it. Heather couldn’t wait to watch Maddie play when she was old enough.

If you read last July, then you know a little about Maddie. Early this week there were messages from Heather that Maddie wasn’t feeling well. She was having trouble breathing and her fever was rising. They were going to the doctor. Then on Tuesday there was a blog post. Maddie passed away. Many other writers across the blog world have already written more eloquent posts than I ever could. It’s heartbreaking. I can’t imagine what Heather and Mike are going through. A part of my brain just stops because I don’t ever want to imagine it.

I take for granted that my girls (and boy) are healthy. Sometimes I complain about all of the practices and games we have to attend. There are even times when I hope for rain just so that we can have a free night. Such a silly thing to think when there is a mom who won’t get to experience that with her daughter. I know that from now on, every time we go to a softball practice or game there will be a quick thought for Heather and her girl with the curly hair and huge smile.