Enjoy the “Lasts” as much as the “Firsts”

When Tyler was growing up, as all parents do, I made a big deal out of his “Firsts”. His first smile. His first step.  His first word (‘Gup’…he always wanted to go up the steps to see grandma and grandpa).  His first pitch.  The list goes on and on. 

Now that Tyler is older and is ready to move onto bigger things, I wish I had paid more attention to his “Lasts”.   The last time he called me “Mommy”.  The last time we watched a Disney movie together.  The last time I rocked him to sleep and watched him sleep peacefully in my arms.  The last time he let me hold his hand. 

These are all huge milestones, and yet I let them pass without paying any attention to them. What would my thoughts have been if I knew it would be the last time he would climb onto my lap for a good morning cuddle? Or the last time he would hide under the blankets pretending to be sleeping so I would tickle him? 

His Senior year is full of firsts and lasts.  Last first brown bag lunch.   Last Homecoming. Last home football game.  Last first semester of high school. Last first golf match. Last writing assessment. Last finals week. Last Prom.  Last Sports Recognition Assembly.  Last first day of school. Why didn't I hug him that morning like I did just before he got onto the bus his very first day of school?  I really wish I had. 

Last high school baseball season.  Last first game of the season.  Last first pitch……..

I've thought about this numerous times over the past months but it really hit me hard the other day when I thought I was going to be late for Tyler’s game and miss his first pitch of the season. 

     His last

               first pitch

                           of his last first game

                                                     of his last season 

                                                                         of high school baseball  

There was no way I was going to miss his last first scrimmage!  I left work at 2:30 which gave me plenty of time to get to Woodland Hills High School in Pittsburgh.  My GPS gave me the arrival time of 3:34 PM.  Perfect!  It was freezing so that would give me time to change out of my high heels into boots and to put on my winter coat, gloves and scarf before the game started at 4:00. 

Cruising down Rt 79, singing along to my tunes, I was a happy chick….today there was going to be a baseball game! Yeeeehaww!  I exited Rt 79 to take the turnpike and came to the proverbial fork in the road (okay, it wasn't necessarily a “fork” but it’s my blog so I say it is!) …Harrisburg or Ohio. 

Can you guess where this is heading?  You got it….Ohio!  I picked the exit for Ohio!  As I continued to sing-along to Pink!  I started to notice barns and fields on my left and right.  Hmmmm…This isn't what I remembered seeing on the turnpike.  It wasn't until I noticed a sign that said “Beaver Falls 15 miles” that I looked at my GPS.  My arrival time changed from 3:34 to 4:10.  That’s when I realized what I had done!  What the heck! Why hadn't my GPS screamed at me to “MAKE. A. U-TURN. WHEN. POSSIBLE”?

4:10?  4:10!!!  The game started at 4:00!  I had to go 15 miles in the wrong direction before I could exit and turn around and head in the right direction.  The amount of profanity that came from my mouth was enough to make a sailor blush! Then tears came pouring out of my eyes because I knew that I would never forgive myself if I missed that “pitch”.  I’m sure that I looked like a crazy woman flying down the turnpike crying and cussing but I was hell-bent on getting there before 4:10.  

I pulled into Woodland Hills High School parking lot at 4:06.  I could see the players on the field!  I kept telling myself that they were just warming up, the game hadn't started!  After all, Kim Booher wasn't there yet! Didn't they know better?  Didn't they know I would be there as soon as possible?!? NOPE! The cuss words started flowing out again like word vomit.  I grabbed my bag and started towards the field.  “Started towards the field” meant I trekked up a gravel path to the field on top of a hill…a big hill….in high heels....against the wind...in the freezing cold. 

Tyler was just grabbing his glove to go on the field to warm up. It was the bottom on the first.  Out of breath, I gave Tyler a little wave and said, “I made it”.  He gave me the nod and trotted onto the field.  I guess getting the nod was better than nothing.  After all, he didn't know I drove like a banshee woman to get there in time.  He didn't realize that first pitch was on a list of many lasts of this year.  He didn't know his mother was full of emotion. Okay, he knows I'm full of emotion, he just chooses to ignore it.  

I opened the gate and walked into the dugout and started taking pictures of Tyler.  I made it!  I!   Made!    It! 

I did not miss Tyler’s last first pitch!  I did a little fist pump and silently patted myself on the back.  Then I noticed a young coach sitting on the bucket watching me.  Yikes!  I introduced myself and decided I wouldn’t embarrass Tyler any further by explaining to the young coach that I was full of emotion.  Let him find out on his own some day when he has children!

The bottom line is that the “Lasts” stink.  But it will lead to a new list of “Firsts” which means new beginnings, new opportunities, new memories, and new challenges.

And THAT’S exciting to me!

In the meantime, let’s PLAY BALL!