Its just one night.........

It seemed like a simple request…..Tyler wanted to take a day from school and visit La Roche again.  Perfect! I made an appointment with his admission counselor to talk to someone in the financial aid office and turn in his transcript from a college course that he took through Shenango High School.  He texted the La Roche baseball coach and found out they were practicing and told Tyler to stop by.  This is was going to be a great day….me and my kiddo spending the day together.    Just the car ride alone would be great “talk time”.   That simple request turned into an emotional meltdown for me with one sentence from Tyler, “Can I spend the night at La Roche”.  

“No…No…NOOOOO”, was the answer I was giving in my brain as the words “We’ll see” fell out of my mouth.   As the Oscar Hammerstein quote goes, “Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly.” And kids gotta leave.  I knew I had to let him experience this but that didn't mean I had to like it.  I know that come fall there is going to be a monumental shift in my family life. The kid who has been making us proud, who has been surprising us, delighting us, disappointing us, making us sad, mad, and glad — in short, been part of the tempo, harmonies, and overall noise of family life, isn’t going to be there anymore.

Tyler is well aware I'm full of emotion; after all, I let him know every day.  He said we could eat lunch wherever I wanted and after he visits the baseball team, he and I can hang out at the mall together for as long as I wanted.  What a sweet kid!  And a big schmoozer…..!

Right now my feelings are mixed.  There is joy and pride in the miracle of having raised this wonderful young adult. There is worry about whether I have adequately prepared my child for a night on a college campus and to make the right choices.  There is an overwhelming sense of sadness of leaving him there.

This brings back memories of Tyler’s first day of Kindergarten.  We sat outside waiting for the bus to come.  I tried to express my excitement for him but I was crying on the inside. I walked him to the open door of the bus and greeted the bus driver.  As Tyler got onto the bus, I followed him. The kind bus driver told me that I was not permitted on the bus.  Whoa!  What?!  I explained that it would only be for a second, I just wanted to see where Tyler was going to sit.  The voice of the kind bus driver got a bit stern as he told me that I had to get off of his bus.  So, I did.  I promptly got into my car and followed the bus to every stop between my house and the school.  At the elementary school I watched my little blonde boy get off the mean bus driver’s bus and head into the school with all the other kiddos.  I sat in my car sobbing.  It was gut wrenching to see him not look back, not look for his momma. 

So today will be a test of how I will handle dropping him off and leaving him.  Will I hug him and tell him to have a great time and walk away?  Yeah right!  You don’t know me well if you think that will happen!  I am going to try my hardest to be a mature adult in this situation.  I will do my try not be a “Velcro” parent who has a hard time letting go.  I will remind myself during my drive home that it is only one night.

Who am I kidding?  I will be that same stalking, sobbing momma who dropped her little boy off at Kindergarten years ago. 

So, as I prepare to get ready for the day, I'll throw a few extra essentials into the trunk of the car.....tissues, ibuprofen, a sleeping bag, glasses with a mustache attached, a wig, binoculars and some Swedish Fish.....

Any Baseball mom will go to bat for what matters: watching her son grow into a fine young man on the dusty diamond.......

You can spot a baseball mom from twenty paces – she usually has a large tote bag, found online that is handcrafted in team colors….and in my case, includes rhinestones.   Usually she is wearing some form of baseball jewelry, maybe earrings or a necklace, sometimes a bracelet too…..again, in my case, very blingy.  

They’re a special breed, baseball moms.  When the ball is in play, she is screaming and beating on the fence while attempting to force runners out with pure lung power.  And a baseball mom can be an endless source of practical information as it relates to online shopping and laundry stain removal (between innings, of course).  She can also be an endless source of inspiration.  Yep.  I said inspiration.  See, your average baseball mom is not your average parent.  She’s a team player in every sense of the word.  A baseball team is just the right size for the baseball mom to “hover parent”.  Try bringing Gatorade for an entire football team.  Try getting to know every parent with a child on the track team.  It doesn't work so well with groups that size.  But twelve to fourteen kids mixed with agreeable spring and summer weather, it brings out the best in a mom.

I got my start as a baseball mom with T-ball. Tyler was 4 years old.  Most baseball moms get their feet wet by bringing team snacks and concession stand duty.  My approach was a little different—I worked my way onto the field as an assistant coach.  When Tyler moved up to coach pitch instructional baseball, I was there as the dugout mom and then the score keeper.   When Tyler was nine, he started playing  travel baseball and we spent weekends living in hotels with other parents.  The level of "baseballmomism" took on a whole new meaning with travel baseball. 

  

The years flew by and Tyler is now entering into his last year of high school baseball.  He no longer asks me for sno-cones and nachos from the concession stand after the game.  And if I even mention bringing enough sunflower seeds and bubblegum to a varsity game for the whole team, he looks at me like I have a lobster crawling out of my ear.  They’re not little T-ballers anymore.

But I am still a baseball mom and I yearn for the days of making team goodie bags…….

I recently attended a parent meeting for Tyler’s high school baseball team.  The meeting was about the opportunity for the team to play at PNC Park.  At one point during the meeting the coach explained that although they would love to win every game, baseball is more than just about a winning season.   He stated that he and his coaching staff like to teach more than just baseball skills, they like to include “life skills” as well.   Another coach remarked that “service” was hard to teach and that he was pleasantly surprised when two seniors on the baseball team approached him about service project they wanted the baseball team to do.  They wanted to collect toys for children who are in Children's Hospital in Pittsburgh.  Not only did they want the team to participate in this service project this year, but they wanted this to become a legacy for Shenango High School baseball.  One of the seniors was Tyler.  I knew about the project.  Tyler has talked to me endlessly at about it  and what he plans to do and what how he wants it to look.  What I didn’t know was that it was his idea.  As I sat in that meeting and listened to the coach praise my son, my heart swelled with pride and my eyes filled up with tears.  What baseball mom’s wouldn’t?  I looked at my son who was sitting there listening with his eyes looking down. My son….he’s talking about my son.  He was talking about the child, who for years, had so much pent up anger because his grandmother was taken away by cancer.  He was talking about the child, who a few years after that, had to learn that his mother had cancer.  He was talking about the child, who a couple years after that lost his grandfather suddenly while we were away at a baseball tournament.  The child, who didn’t speak to adults until tenth grade and who was diagnosed with social anxiety.   The tears slid down my cheek although I didn’t want them to.   I looked at my son sitting next me.  He was no longer the four year old T-ball player that made me play catch for hours or time him while he ran the bases.  He was an adult.  When did that happen?  Although I’m so full of emotion lately, I knew it would be a very bad idea to wrap my arms around him during that meeting. 

I love every minute I have spent at the baseball field so far.  It’s a big part of our life and more importantly, my son is doing what he loves best.  Thirteen years ago we started this journey, with a little four year old who couldn’t get enough of running the bases.  Watching him grow into the ballplayer and young man he is today has been a great joy.  Lucky for me, the ultimate baseball mom, the journey isn’t over. 

 

So about this empty nest thing.............

As you know my son, Tyler, has been accepted at La Roche College and will play baseball for them. He's happy and excited and I'm seeing a new-found confidence in my son that makes my heart proud.  I should be on top of the world. Instead, I am filled with dread and deep feelings of empty nest depression. Just thinking about graduation and leaving my only child  at college brings intense grief. It spurs a type of extreme sadness that I have a hard time explaining even to myself. 

Remember the cartoons where the guy would dive from the incredibly high platform into the ridiculously tiny bucket? You would see the view from the cliff down into the bucket before he jumped, and there would be clouds halfway between because it was so high up. That is how I picture the empty nest; way, way, down at the bottom of a very high cliff. One day, approximately 226 days from today, my son is going to leave for college and I am going to have to jump off that cliff.  Melodramatic? Me? Okay maybe, but I am really that apprehensive.

The distress over my empty nest really started last year when Tyler received his driver's license. While most parents were saying things like, "Amen! I'm tired of running my kid around" or "He/she can help out now".....I kept thinking, 'There goes more time away from him'.  I have always loved my car-time with Tyler.  It was when I could get him to talk the most.  Granted, he talked between bites of McDonald's fries and his Quarter Pounder with cheese (only ketchup) but nonetheless, it was just us.  This started the whole list of  "this is the last time..." items. 

The very thought of graduation or college leaves me teary-eyed at the oddest times. The torment of my soon to be empty nest has me hiding a depression that should be reserved for a tragic event.  The things done to prepare for a graduation and college bound child are all  painful reminders of my ticking clock of grief. Ordering of senior pictures, talking about a grad party and college orientation brings me one step closer in this empty nest countdown. Many of these events bring on deeper feelings of my woefulness and sometimes drive me into my bedroom to cry.  

I feel  graduation and the move to college signified that my job as a mom is over. The thought of my upcoming empty nest leaves me feeling a sense of worthlessness and loss.  Don't get me wrong, I am extremely proud and happy for my kiddo. However, no matter how much pride and happiness I feel over his accomplishments, there is a cloud of gloom just hanging to block out the sun.
Just recently I ran into one of Tyler's junior high teachers. She asked me, "Isn't it wonderful to watch them spread their wings and fly"? She was, of course,  referring to Tyler's upcoming graduation and  move to college.  Since smacking her was not an option, I just smiled and nodded my head.  The emotion I felt over my empty nest was more heart breaking than wonderful but how could I admit this type of sadness to this lady? 

Tyler's baseball coach thinks he has the perfect solution for me.  He thinks I need to adopt a few boys (not just one? come on, coach!!) from the Dominican Republic.  Preferably athletic, baseball players that can pitch.  The scene from the movie Benchwarmers comes into my mind every time he has a conversation with me about it.....



Who knows what the future holds for me and my empty nest.  My life as a baseball mom will continue for at least four more years only instead of blue and gold bling, I'll be wearing red and black bling.   Right now, I will continue to love and guide Tyler as I've always done and try to give him the knowledge to make the right decisions along the way.  That's what moms do best, right? 

Oh, anyone know where I can buy a little yippee dog that I can dress up and carry around in my purse........

I'm not fat....I just had a baby..........

I'm not fat....I just had a baby......

....seventeen years ago!      

                          

 I've never been thin....well, there was that one time, but that was short-lived and was because I was in love for the very first time.  I don't come from a petite, thin family.  I am of German Dutch descent on my dad's side and a mixture of Polish and Irish on my mom's side.  I did a little research of "body types" of women from these particular heritages and I found it very interesting.  An article I read on Fitnesstreats.com states that, "Northern European women tend to be tall (Dutch women are the tallest in Europe) and muscular in shape. They have thick bones and muscles. When wearing skirts, few have lean “top model”-looking legs. At the gym, they have good muscular strength and coordination but low speed and poor flexibility".   BINGO! We have a winner!  Soooooo, I'm not fat, I'm big boned! Now we're talking!

I recently lost a significant amount of weight.  I'm actually about ten pounds away from my goal weight.  I should feel proud, happy, ecstatic, bursting at the seams with joy, but instead I'm embarrassed.  I'm embarrassed that I got to the point where I needed to lose 50 plus pounds.  I could sit here the rest of the night and make excuses....I'm big-boned, I had several surgeries in a short amount of time that prevented me from exercising, I discovered I have hypothyroidism, I'm busy raising my baby (okay, okay! Teenager!), and oh, there was that cancer thing that happened too.  But the bottom line is I stopped watching what I ate.  When I started taking Synthroid three years ago for my underactive thyroid, I thought it was going to be a miracle pill. I thought the pounds would just melt off.  Of course, that isn’t what happened.  Last December my physician said, you need to lose weight before you develop any more medical issues such as heart problems or diabetes.  That made me think…plus, maybe I’d like to be in some family pictures instead of being the one who volunteered to take them.  I pulled out some high school and college pictures and was reminded of the size I used to be, but you know what they say, “used to bees don‘t make honey”.  I didn’t look too bad back in the day, who knew?! 

It was then that I knew I needed to stop telling people I just had a baby and I had to stop blaming my “big-boned” heritage and accept the fact that it’s just poor eating habits and not enough exercise.  I was no longer going to buy dress slacks with an elastic waist. I was going to fit into a pair of jeans with rhinestones on the back pocket.  I was going to wear name brands like UnderArmour and Pink by Victoria Secret. I was going to put a little swagger back into my step.  That was a year ago……

Limiting my calories to 1200 per day, exercising from 60-90 minutes a day, sprinkled with some stress from raising my baby—err---teenager, was my formula.   The feeling I had when I slid into the jeans I haven’t worn for 8 years was incredible but even more incredible is the fact that I can’t wear them  now because they are too big J

 I will never be a size 2 nor will I ever wear a bikini. But I am able to be in the family pictures and selfies….I love selfies!  I am buying dress slacks without an elastic waist and I even purchased a pair of yoga pants.  I do own a pair of jeans, actually two pair, with rhinestones on the back pockets.  I now own several UnderArmour t-shirts that fit nicely.  I have put a bit of swagger back into my step but that might be my vertigo and not really swagger. 

Ten more pounds! It isn’t easy!  I love to eat….boy, do I love to eat!  I’m not sure how I’m going to shed these remaining pounds but I will.  I know I come from a heritage of big-boned, big hipped, voluptuous women but I’m kinda enjoying my butt being a little smaller and looking nice is rhinestone-pocketed jeans. 

I'm soooo full of emotion.......

I am sooooo full of emotion right now....

That's the phrase I keep repeating. Often enough that it was recommended that I start a blog to let out some of these feelings.

I am no writer.  The most I've written, other than informative papers for the various undergrad and grad classes I have taken, are long FaceBook status messages.  So then, who am I? I am a wife, daughter, aunt, great-aunt, friend, Social Media addict, Assessment/Curriculum Coordinator for a school district, sports lover and lastly---a baseball mom :)  It is the baseball mom in me that provided the push to start a blog.

I have one son....my joy, my life, my world.  He started throwing a baseball at an early age and never stopped.  He's 17, a senior in high school and has one foot out the door heading to college.  That's where the emotion comes in.  I have watched this kid--my kid-- play baseball on a team since he was 4 years old.  Not only did I watch but I've participated by being a team mom, base coach, bench coach, scorekeeper, league coordinator, tournament organizer and even did some field maintenance.  I've thrown BP to him and any other boy who needed some extra swings.  I've played catch in weather ranging from 90 to 35 degrees.  I've squatted in some unladylike positions to catch for him so he could get some pitching practice in during off days.  And of course I've done the usual baseball mom jobs such as purchase enough Gatorade and sunflower seeds to take care of a Third World Country, hand scrub white baseball pants, kept a score book, took pictures, sat in the rain, and cheered louder than what I probably should have.  I take pride in the fact that in the 13 years he has played, I have never missed a game, inning or pitch :)  I am proud to say that my son will play baseball at a D3 school about 60 miles from where we live.  Close enough, but far enough......

If you are a parent, especially a baseball mom, you might see already where all my emotion is coming from. Just dealing with a Senior is hard enough....add that he is an only child and I think the dynamic changes slightly.  Instead of seeing my doctor and getting a prescription for some soothing-type drugs, I chose to blog.

Sit back and hold on...because you never know which emotion you might see on any given day :)