N decided to hang out with me this afternoon instead of staying at his dad's house, so we did what every 10 year-old boy loves to do... We went to IKEA! (He hates IKEA, but he did surprisingly well...except for when he set all of the timers for 5 minutes simultaneously, then ran off giggling. Truth: I was doing everything I could NOT to laugh, but inside I was rolling.) We scored some great stuff, and I bought some towels for my dad's house, as he is a bachelor in a mancave and needs decorative help. Also, IKEA creeps him out, and he refuses to walk in the doors. I don't know what's wrong with him.
We got home, drenched to our knees, and decided to have a movie night...just me and my biggest boy. As I'm typing this, I'm introducing him to the greatness of "The Rookie" with Dennis Quaid. Words cannot describe how much I adore this movie, and if we couldn't have our own baseball game, this movie is the next best thing. He is cracking up, and I love the sound of his giggles.
I love baseball. My boys love baseball. We love it for reasons that are the same, and reasons that are different. The game is magical, and seeing it in person is even better. N has been a Rangers fan since he found out what baseball was, and B likes the Rangers too...but not as much as he likes the Yankees. I think his love for the Yankees stems from the insane amount of joy he gets when he infuriates his brother to the point where he's almost incoherent. In the past, I've put Yankees napkins in B's lunch box and Rangers napkins in N's. I will cheer for either team, because I support my boys and their love of the game. To them, it's a true love for the game...especially N.
I, on the other hand, am a huge fan of baseball (duh!) AND the pants the players wear. Seriously? Baseball pants are probably the best things ever. I used to think that it was embarrassing to like baseball for that reason, but I'm not alone. Butts look amazing in baseball pants. It's good to keep things real. I'm a Pudge fan: for his skill, heart, obvious love of the game, and the way he fills out a pair of baseball pants. I have no shame. Honesty is totally the best policy. When Ian Kinsler "drops it like it's hot" each time he's up to bat, I giggle like a schoolgirl. Watching my guy friends play baseball in high school and college was well worth the drive. Very few can make baseball pants look as good as some of the guys I know make them look.
We agonize over the losses and are ecstatic when our team(s) win. The fact that my boys have been able to see one of their favorite teams make it to the World Series TWICE (even though they haven't won, but let's not get started on that) has allowed them to see that you can do anything you put your mind to, and dreams can come true. If they dream it, they can make it happen, and I hope and pray they do. I'll be behind them every step of the way...encouraging them and cheering them on, even when they tell me not to!
That's our jobs as parents...because sometimes our kids really just want us to show up, even if they say they don't care. N is only 10, and he's already saying he doesn't want to hear me cheering for him at games. I asked him if he cared if his dad or other parents on the team cheered for him by name, and he said that was fine, but not for me and Nana. When I asked him why, his answer broke my heart in both positive and negative ways all at the same time. How is that even possible? "Mom, I don't need to hear you and Nana cheering for me, because I know you always show up. You're always there for me. I don't have to hear you to know you're there." Even though my boy gets embarrassed when he's in the spotlight, he knows his mom is always going to show up, and she always will...even when he thinks he doesn't want her around.
It's one of those things that I do really well, most of the time. I do my best to be an "in your face" parent. When my boys are with me, I know what they're doing, with whom, where, and when they'll be back. I don't understand the parents who just let their kids roam without really knowing where they are. N doesn't need a cell phone because I always know where he is, and I like it that way. He's only 10...I want him to grow up and all, but I don't need him to rush it. He's only going to want me around for so long.
I'll leave you with this...because these words have been running through my mind for at least a month, and it's something that means something to me as a parent, a woman, and a (sometimes slightly obsessive) wonderer:
"Some dreams stay with you forever,
Drag you around but bring you back to where you were.
Some dreams keep on gettin' better,
Gotta keep believin' if you wanna know for sure."
- Eli Young Band
Aubs
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