Last night my wonderful brother Andrew took care of Coen, so that Martin, Mason and I could head out with the home group to the local Charlotte Knight's Baseball game. I hadn't been to one since I was a teenager- actually, my 17th birthday to be exact. This was Mason's first experience with baseball, and I wasn't sure how he'd like it. You know, baseball games can be a bit, well... long. Hence, the babysitter for Coen.
On the way there, Mason wore his Spider Man sunglasses, and confidently told us that "Everyone's going to think I'm so cool".
Let me just say that it was a huge hit. For all of us. The adults had a great time- yapping it up, and of course, watching the game (and the kids antics), in-between our trips to the concession stands. Meanwhile, the kids- 6 total, gobbled up flavored slushy drinks, hot dogs, chips, ice cream and more. Mason enjoyed his "grown-up Sprite", and a full cone of blue cotton candy. I caught a glimpse of my son's generosity as he opened his bag of Lay's potato chips, and handed one to each kid in the group, and then handed one to each adult too.
I really think Mason could've made it through the whole game, but we left about halfway through- due to the kids, and that ever present gotta-work-tomorrow thing. The kids were pretty much still wide-open, though. Wired doesn't describe it as they all flocked together on the way to the parking lot- bouncing and throwing their free baseball stress-balls into the air- driving us adults nuts. Martin joined in, and demonstrated his juggling skills.
As we returned home last night, it was probably almost 10:00pm, and Mason entered the front door singing a song I didn't know he knew... "Take me out to the ballgame...."
Friday, July 20, 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Box Tops
The inspiration for this blog came days ago, but since it was late at night, I jotted down the main ideas, and put it aside for when I had time. Today, I visited Discovery Place with the boys, and my experience prompted me to go ahead with it.
Mason is always drawn to the attraction that allows the kids to use pulleys and weights to move piles of pellets from one place to another. Apparently every other kid in the Charlotte-Metro area attending camp this week, is too. I watched him try to elbow his way into the sea of bright green t-shirted camp kids (all of who were bigger than he was), trying to get one shot at the pulley, or rope... none of them budging, or sharing, and most of the camp counselors were oblivious. Mason came to me in frustration, and I told him- "Just ASK them, if you can play when they are finished, that way, they know you're waiting." Sometimes, it worked, and sometimes, I could tell the brutish kids were only giving up their spot momentarily, because I was standing there. It was a free-for-all. And I wondered how kindergarten is going to be.
Last week, Mason attended swim lessons for the first time. His instructor, Miss Sara, had also been his preschool teacher, and wisely requires that parents leave their children for the hour long lessons. This allows the kids to learn, without a crutch or distraction of a parent. I won't lie. As I left that first day, another Mom and I discussed the worries of leaving your child in a 3 foot inground pool of water without YOUR supervision. It's a little hard letting go.
But later, I realized, Kindergarten might be worse. Letting my little boy jump into a pool of "piranhas" wearing pig-tails, backpacks, and i-pod minis. I am of the realization that not everyone out there is trying to raise their kids to be respectful, kind and polite to others- and some of those kids will probably chew others up and spit 'em out. How will he deal with the mean ones? And worse, would he BE one?
School is going to be a whole new ball-game from this end. After all, I just got out myself, didn't I? Oh wait, that was 12 years ago. Yikes. And now, I'm clipping every Campbell's Soup Label, Box Top for Education, and Tyson Proof of Purchase- in the hopes that it might score a few extra brownie points of teacher approval. All the while, realizing that 10 Box Tops only equal $1, and some Mom, somewhere, is writing a check for $500- no sweat.
So why do all that? Because he's entering a whole new phase of his life, and I'd love to make it as smooth as possible- we all survived it right? But, I'm scared, he's not. Maybe the Box Tops will count for something. So if you have any extra, feel free to throw them our way.
Mason is always drawn to the attraction that allows the kids to use pulleys and weights to move piles of pellets from one place to another. Apparently every other kid in the Charlotte-Metro area attending camp this week, is too. I watched him try to elbow his way into the sea of bright green t-shirted camp kids (all of who were bigger than he was), trying to get one shot at the pulley, or rope... none of them budging, or sharing, and most of the camp counselors were oblivious. Mason came to me in frustration, and I told him- "Just ASK them, if you can play when they are finished, that way, they know you're waiting." Sometimes, it worked, and sometimes, I could tell the brutish kids were only giving up their spot momentarily, because I was standing there. It was a free-for-all. And I wondered how kindergarten is going to be.
Last week, Mason attended swim lessons for the first time. His instructor, Miss Sara, had also been his preschool teacher, and wisely requires that parents leave their children for the hour long lessons. This allows the kids to learn, without a crutch or distraction of a parent. I won't lie. As I left that first day, another Mom and I discussed the worries of leaving your child in a 3 foot inground pool of water without YOUR supervision. It's a little hard letting go.
But later, I realized, Kindergarten might be worse. Letting my little boy jump into a pool of "piranhas" wearing pig-tails, backpacks, and i-pod minis. I am of the realization that not everyone out there is trying to raise their kids to be respectful, kind and polite to others- and some of those kids will probably chew others up and spit 'em out. How will he deal with the mean ones? And worse, would he BE one?
School is going to be a whole new ball-game from this end. After all, I just got out myself, didn't I? Oh wait, that was 12 years ago. Yikes. And now, I'm clipping every Campbell's Soup Label, Box Top for Education, and Tyson Proof of Purchase- in the hopes that it might score a few extra brownie points of teacher approval. All the while, realizing that 10 Box Tops only equal $1, and some Mom, somewhere, is writing a check for $500- no sweat.
So why do all that? Because he's entering a whole new phase of his life, and I'd love to make it as smooth as possible- we all survived it right? But, I'm scared, he's not. Maybe the Box Tops will count for something. So if you have any extra, feel free to throw them our way.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Mortar Fire
We only purchased about $42 worth this year. Barely enough to afford a few legal fountains, and some sparklers. I won't lie, there might've been a few others in the bunch...
But as I walked onto the deck, after our "display" was finished- the smell of mortars, and smoke, filled my nostrils. I knew instantly, that it wasn't from our display alone- after all, ours was the smallest we'd done yet, but rather, it was the smell of a neighborhood, even, a country united... for once. Suddenly, it hit me. I welcome the smell of mortars as a celebratory thing. I live in a country where mortar fire, and smoke is a sign of celebration, and not something we fear.
As I looked out over the American's Dream- the row of black triangles representing homes- the American Dream is silouhetted by the pink, blue, and even white of the explosions over Lake Wylie.
It is one of the only countries left, on the face of the earth, where we PAY for the the chance, to smell that smell.... to light something up, not out of fear, or defense, but rather, an excitement, a love for our country, or just because- DOGGGONIT, we CAN!!!!!
I love this country. As I watched the silhouettes across my backyard light up, I wondered. "Am I the only one who REALLY thinks of what this day means?" Am I the only one left who cares? I hope not.
But as I walked onto the deck, after our "display" was finished- the smell of mortars, and smoke, filled my nostrils. I knew instantly, that it wasn't from our display alone- after all, ours was the smallest we'd done yet, but rather, it was the smell of a neighborhood, even, a country united... for once. Suddenly, it hit me. I welcome the smell of mortars as a celebratory thing. I live in a country where mortar fire, and smoke is a sign of celebration, and not something we fear.
As I looked out over the American's Dream- the row of black triangles representing homes- the American Dream is silouhetted by the pink, blue, and even white of the explosions over Lake Wylie.
It is one of the only countries left, on the face of the earth, where we PAY for the the chance, to smell that smell.... to light something up, not out of fear, or defense, but rather, an excitement, a love for our country, or just because- DOGGGONIT, we CAN!!!!!
I love this country. As I watched the silhouettes across my backyard light up, I wondered. "Am I the only one who REALLY thinks of what this day means?" Am I the only one left who cares? I hope not.
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