Off to Never Never Land

We're surprising the kids tomorrow with a trip to Disney World. It will be a miracle if I don't blow the surprise before then.

I've had to bite my tongue at least a dozen times in the last few days. If it were up to me, I would have told them weeks ago. But my husband really wants to surprise them.

All I can think about is how I still haven't put the pictures from our last trip to Disney in an album.

I'll be off for a week taking more pictures. I hope everyone has a lovely Easter.

Tales from the Diamond

I can still remember the day in fourth grade when the principle announced over the school intercom that it was time to register for softball. Back in the dark ages when I grew up, you couldn't start playing league sports in town until fourth grade. I had been waiting for years.

I went home and begged my parents to let me sign up. They agreed and that was the start of my passionate love of softball.

There is something about softball that is just Zen to me. The field, the bases, the dirt and the grass. The smell of leather and the fwap sound of the ball hitting your glove. I love how the game is all in your hands when the ball is hit to you or when you are up at bat. But it still takes a team to succeed. No other sport is quite like that. It's all so beautiful.

I never gave it much thought back then, but I guess I was pretty lucky to be playing ball at all. When I was three-years-old I was diagnosed with Legg Calves Perthes disease (LCPD). This is a pretty rare disease that literally makes the ball and socket joint in your hip disappear.

Back in the late seventies, doctors still didn't know much about LCPD. I spent the better part of a year in traction and a couple of years in a leg brace. Back then a long term prognosis was unclear. At the very best, I was told that I may be out of the brace some day, but that I would have debilitating arthritis by my twenties and most likely need a hip replacement by thirty.

Yet I played basketball and softball all though high school and college. In fact, I played softball right up until I was pregnant with my son. The very last softball game I played I was pregnant with him. I hit two home runs in that game.

My father said to me just a couple of years ago that all while he watched me play in college, he was just amazed that I was there. "No matter how you play it just doesn't matter," he said. "There was a time we didn't think you would walk, never mind play college ball.

I was very lucky.

Of course now they know that when LCPD is diagnosed before age six, the prognosis can be quite good. My parents also took an alternate route to my treatment. They used new braces and let me swim and exercise as much as I wanted. It worked better than bed rest and I'm glad my parents made the decisions they did.

Now I'm the parent.

They do think that LCPD may be hereditary, so I was a little worried that my kids would also be diagnosed with it. I didn't think about it too much, but I did always keep my eye out for symptoms. Luckily, it seems like they are both fine.

And it is my daughter's turn to play softball.

At the end of last season, she begged me to coach this year. Last May when it was such a far off thing, I agreed. But when the time came to register the team this year, I got a little nervous. It's not that I didn't want to coach. I've coached with an inner-city program, I was a private pitching coach and I have coached a high school team. But seven and eight year-year-old girls can be scary.

By our first practice, I had practically made myself sick with worry. My friends scoff at me, but I really don't think I'm very good with kids. I was worried that the parents would think I was having too many practices or not enough practices. It's hard...no...impossible to make everyone happy.

We're two weeks into practice and I'm feeling much better now. I still get tense before practice and I still spend quite a bit of time planning drills and lessons. But the girls seem to be having fun.

I have to remind myself of how I felt back in fourth grade. For all I know, one of the girls on my team is right now developing the kind of love of the game that I have in my heart. If I can teach her the very best basic fundamentals, she will have an excellent foundation to take her game wherever she wants to go. It is the best gift I have to give.

And I have to remind myself that I am lucky to be out on the field at all, walking through the drills, teaching them how to run a base. I'll be thirty-five soon, with no hip replacement in sight.

I am so thankful for a chance to pass on my love of softball to a new generation of young girls. Even if they never play another season, I hope I can help them grow just a little bit in confidence and have more than a little bit of fun.

Success can be measured in so many different ways. To me, success on the field is success in my heart. The softball diamond is home to me.

Auctions & Alibis

This past weekend, my husband and I went to our school's annual auction. As always, it was a blast. But I learned something this year that I didn't know in years past.

My husband is very suggestible when he has been drinking. He isn't normally a very big party-type person. At least not around me and our friends. Some of his Air Force buddies may be guffawing at that right now, for all I know. But generally, he's a low key kind of guy.

It's not like he got very drunk. He was just...looser...than normal. And he smiled more. And he spent a lot more money!

Last year we spent a total of $75 on auction items. The year before, we didn't spend a single dime. This year we were making up for lost time and spent...well...I don't want to tell you how much we spent. But it was a lot. When at the end of the night the cashier says, "I see you're going out with a bang," you know you've spent more than expected.

I thought my husband might feel bad about it in the morning, but he doesn't have any regrets. As he says, it is for a good cause, and a cause that means a great deal to us, Southfield School. And we'll have a market umbrella designed by my daughter's third grade class to take with us when we move. She'll always be able to remember her friends though their artwork.

She'll also get to act as headmaster for a day. I have to admit that I guilted my husband into that one. "Aw, come on. She's leaving. What a way to go out," I cajoled. His hand shot up with our bidder number before I finished the sentence.

Our family will also have a private party at the Southfield gymnasium with snacks provided by Wilmore Snack Sales. And I got a very pretty necklace donated by my friend, Julie.

Speaking of my friend, Julie chaired the auction this year and did an amazing job. The theme was fun and everything went off without a hitch. Now that the auction is over, you might see her around the forums here again. Tell MsHokie congratulations on a job well done.

And if we have to eat Ramen noodles for a few months and make our own clothes next year, it was worth it. You should always go out with a bang.

Smiling Through it All

My son really is amazing sometimes.

For months my son has needed to see a specialist and we finally got him into an appointment yesterday. Not to worry though. He is just suffering a little bit more than normal from a common childhood problem.

So, yesterday my husband and I took him straight to the doctor after his violin lesson. My husband and I were both a little nervous but my son was as happy as can be. He was just so happy to be alone in our presence that he skipped and chattered like going to see a new doctor was just no big deal.

He waited patiently while I struggled though an insurance issue that was due to my own misunderstanding. When we finally got it cleared up we went in to see a nurse and two different doctors.

My son is so friendly and easy-going that he actually seemed to enjoy his office visit. Both doctors had excellent bedside manners. And we walked away with prescriptions for medication and directions for treatment that should help him.

Now we just have to teach him to swallow a pill. But so far, he is taking that in stride too.

This has been an incredibly bad week for me, filled with bad news about our impending move and schools. Seeing my little boy so happy in the face of something that could be intimidating lifted my spirits tremendously.

There is no better feeling in the world than when your kids can make you smile just by being themselves.

An Evening at The Strand

On Sunday evening, my husband and I went on an actual date. We went to see The Producers at The Strand and it was excellent.

I love The Strand. I love old, restored theaters. They are so beautiful, glamorous and romantic. They remind me of our courting days when my someday-husband and I attended the theater in Boston as often as possible.

But sometimes when I see a play, I get distracted by the actors. I tend to daydream and think about what it must be like to live an actor's life. I have many friends who were actors and I know that the backstage drama of a touring group can be more engaging than the drama on stage. So I sit and wonder who is dating whom and who is fighting with whom. And suddenly it is intermission.

But I didn't think about the actors' personal lives at all while watching The Producers. That's the sign of a good show to me.

My husband enjoyed the show too. It made him nostalgic for the days when he worked in a playhouse. It's hard to imagine my warrior husband working in the theater, but he loved it. Now he's dreaming of retiring and working in a theater again. I suppose it makes sense since we're raising a little drama queen.

I'm sure they'll be plenty of former military men working in the theater. Isn't it every aviator's dream to retire into a life of drama?

Space Cadet Mom

With everything I've had on my mind these last few weeks, I've been a bit scatterbrained lately.

Okay, that may be a bit of an understatement. To tell the truth, I've been a complete space cadet these past few weeks.

Mostly I've been overlooking the small things. I forgot to take the dog to the groomers last week. I keep forgetting to make certain phone calls.

But last weekend when my husband met me at the YMCA for my daughter's last basketball game, I graduated to a space lieutenant when he pointed out to me that I had parked my car the wrong way on a one way street.

Well, my normal spot was full. I saw an empty spot and I went for it. Traffic laws be darned.

My promotion to space captain may be in the works, however. At my daughter's violin lesson on Friday, I noticed I was wearing two different shoes.

And it wasn't like they were slightly different shoes that were easily confused. Oh, no. They weren't even the same color. And I had been wearing them all afternoon!

My daughter was quite embarrassed. She practically rolled her eyes and said, "And you always say I'm unorganized!"

I don't know when I went from being the daughter who rolled her eyes at her mother to the mother who has eyes rolled at her, but it has happened.

My Magnetic Personality

My husband says that I have some kind of magnetic force around me. No, it doesn't draw people into my sphere of influence. It just messes with everything electronic in my world.

This past week, my phone stopped working, my printer broke, my Bluetooth was touchy and my Internet access went completely wonky.

I swear I'm not doing anything to break my expensive gadgets. It just happens! One second all is normal and then, bam. Broken.

Maybe I do have some weird magnetic pull. I have a lot of metal in my face from my jaw surgery. Maybe it really is messing with electronic components.

Maybe I should stay off airplanes!

Or maybe I just have horrible luck.

My husband fixed our Internet tonight by replacing the splitter box. Since I didn't even know we had a splitter box, I don't think I should be held responsible for breaking it. I don't even know what a splitter box looks like.

But I do have about 100 e-mails waiting for replies from me. I think I'll get right to them, before my magnetic personality kicks in again.

Ready for Hockey

After waiting for six years and a couple of months, my son finally lost his first tooth!

I noticed that he kept touching his teeth last week and asked him if something was loose. He was wiggling one of his bottom, front teeth.

"Go show Daddy!" I encouraged him.

He ran to my husband all proud of himself. "Do you want me to pull it out?" my husband asked him. "I bet I can get it out right now."

"No!" he exclaimed and ran back to me.

Do all men say those kinds of things to their kids, or is it only mine?

After that, the questions started. "What if my tooth never comes out?" "What if my adult tooth doesn't grow in?" "What if Daddy really rips it out with a pair of pliers?"

I reassured him that it would all be fine and I reminded him that he might stand to gain some cash. Suddenly he was all about getting that tooth out.

Near the end of his soccer game on Saturday he was making his way to the sidelines when he stopped and started rooting around in the grass on the field.

"What are you doing?" I called.

He picked something up off the ground, raised his hand in triumph and yelled, "I lost my tooth!"

It's one of those parenting moments that can go either way. He could either celebrate or he could notice the blood and start to cry. So we yelled out, "Woo hoo!" and raised our hands in triumph too.

He handed the tooth to my husband, sat with his teammates and immediately immersed himself in the game. What's a lost tooth when there is a game to be played?

Now he's telling everyone that he lost his tooth in his soccer game. It makes him sound kind of tough.

I think he's ready to play hockey.

Off the Record

There's a reason I've been bogged down with a bit of writer's block lately. People keep forbidding me to write!

One of my favorite authors is David Sedaris. He writes with outstanding wit and humor about his life and the people in it. His stories about his parents and siblings are hilarious. But in his recent Live at Carnegie Hall audio book, he laments the fact that his family has started going off the record. They're sick of being the butt of his jokes.

Mr. Sedaris may be in an entirely different league than me, a league I can only dream of, but I understand how he feels.

My husband has started saying, "Oh, great, you're going to write about me, aren't you?" whenever he does something blog-worthy. Then I feel bad writing about him. That's not fair. I have to get my material from somewhere!

My friends have started saying, "Oh! I better not end up on your blog!" whenever they do something funny or interesting. Do they think I can come up with all of this stuff on my own?

Just this weekend, an opposing soccer coach at our son's game saw me sitting on the sidelines and yelled over, "Hey, you. You better not write about this!" (Hi, C!) What am I suppose to write if I can't make fun of people I know?

But my kids have pulled the last straw. They used to feel proud that their mom was writing about them. "I'm in a magazine," my son tells everyone. But the more people talk about what I've written, the more my kids have started to worry.

My daughter asked, "You're not writing anything embarrassing about me, are you Mom?" and I told her "no" with a straight face.

I may have to block RedRiverMoms on her computer.

If my kids ever learn the phrase off the record, I'm going to be in big trouble.