TTYL

I've got to hand it to all of you parents out there (mine included) who watched their child get into a car for their first official independent driving experience BEFORE  CELL PHONES HAD BEEN INVENTED!  I think that I was all cool and calm and "that's the nature of things"... but that's because I knew I would have at least the thinnest thread of contact with my son at the beginning, middle, and end of this whole "Nurture Your Child and Keep Him From Harm Only To Throw Him To The Wolves" thing called growing up (for him and me!).

Me:  "Text me AS SOON as you get there."
Him:  "I will."
Me:  "But not while you're driving."
Him:  "I know."
Me:  "Text me if you have to go ANYWHERE else."
Him:  "I will."
Me:  "But I don't want you going anywhere else."
Him:  "Okay."
Me:  "Be sure and text me AS SOON as you leave."
Him:  "I will."
Me:  "But not while you're driving."
Him:  "I won't."
Me:  "I love you."
Him:  "I love you too."
Him:  "I'm here."
Me:  (sigh of relief)  "Thanks for texting me.  Have a great day at work."
Me:  (Calling) "Why haven't you texted me yet?"
Him:  "Because I haven't left yet."
Me:  "When are you leaving?"
Him:  "In a little while.  I'll text you."
Him:  "I'm heading home."
Me:  "Thanks for texting.  Be careful."
Him:  (Walking in the door) "I'm home."
Me:    (Exhaling a prayer of gratitude)

VS:

Me: "Bye!"
My Mom:  "Bye"

Give Me A Break!

Since my last posting I have been to either the emergency room, a hospital room, an imaging room, a specialist's room, an athletic trainer's room, or a sports injury room.  Fortunately I was not the one being wheeled in, examined, x-rayed, splinted, iced, or casted.  Unfortunately it was my mother and my son.  Between my mom who has her left foot in a boot and my son who broke his middle finger and injured his back I seem to have this doctor office thing down.  I almost have my insurance number memorized.  Before all of the bone breaking I had an unfortunate break to the front end of my car...(apparently I didn't brake fast enough).  Between deductibles and co-pays I am spent.  I don't even know how I've managed to fit it all in.  But, somehow, when I think I don't have any time to myself I find myself sitting in a waiting room for hours.  What  cruel and twisted irony.  Events of this nature never really play themselves out when I am not accountable for my time.  Nope.  These things only happen sometime between when I leave my house before 7 a.m. and return home after 7 p.m.  These things only occur when I am committed to (i.e. forced to) attend an after hours meeting or function.  These things only present themselves when I am the stressed out working mother of two teens who need to be home so they can do their homework but can't get there because I'm the one who has to drive them to and from the practices and games and functions that cause bodily injury to them in the first place thus setting into action the need to miss more school so they can go to the doctor ultimately ending up in missed assignments and more homework that we are never home to do.  In fact, I think it needs to be called "carwork."  There...I feel better.  (Part of me just feels better because I didn't even care if an english professor got hives while reading that run-on sentence! So there!).  The other part of me feels better just to get all of that hostility out of my system.  That's the thing about this fast-paced world...sooner or later things break....and the only way to fix them is to find a safe haven and hole up for a while.  And that is exactly what I am doing right now.  I am home alone (cue the angelic chorus) with all of the things that bring me joy.  It is dark outside with only an amber glow down below.  There is no other sound other than the tapping of the keyboard and the whir of my computer.  That is how I heal. 

My son's cast is off and he is at an out of town football game with a friend...how healing is that? 

What a Crock

I had this crazy notion that once I was at home for the summer I'd be able to live life the way I was intended.  I assumed I'd be able to wake up refreshed from all the lounging I did the day before.  I figured I'd actually sip my coffee for hours (instead of spilling it on me en route to work).  I just knew I'd do all of this ALONE while my TEENAGERS SLEPT LATE.  I know...I'm insane.  The problem with that diagnosis is that no will even come and take me away.  You see...it's "that time in MY life" where "time off" translates as "time to cater to my children's needs."  Who do they think they are expecting me to rise and shine TO AN ALARM on my days off?!  I certainly don't recall reading this fine print anywhere in the parenting manual the lactation nurse left in my custody all those years ago.  Come to think of it I don't recall much of anything anymore.  All I know is that I thought our schedule was frenetic and on the verge of emploding while school was in session.  Ha! 
For the past couple of weeks I've counted myself lucky if I left my house with at least some form of clothing on at least one part of it.  This is because my son wakes up BEFORE his chickens.  He exercises BEFORE my coffee pot even clicks on!  (I'm thinking of having him evaluated....something is not right....).
I love him dearly nonetheless...especially since he inherited every gene I don't have.  And have I mentioned that this strange beast is ALWAYS HUNGRY!  Yeah...'bout that....  
This is the ultimate kink in my chord.  How on Earth is one expected to prepare a meal ...a hearty meal...fit for a growing boy before he attends a strength and speed "camp" 4 days a week for a MONTH?!?  HOW?!  I haven't even had "my time" out on the porch sipping coffee and flipping magazine pages!  I haven't been able to "ease into my day."  I AM NOT AWAKE!  Gone are the "pour yourself some cereal" days.  So too are the "how about some toast and jelly?" mornings.  Now I am expected to turn on the stove and measure multiple ingredients, all before 7:00 in the morning...IN  THE SUMMER! What a crock!

Giving Voice to Change

This here pic is of one of our young roosters.  He is just now starting to crow...er...attempt to crow.  This means that inside and outside of my house voices are changing.  While my son's voice seems to have deepened effortlessly without any embarrassing croaks, the same cannot be said about this here rooster.  His daily crows remind me of those old-timey barnyard sound machine/toys I used to shake and tip over repeatedly to hear those muffled moos and baaahs from....remember those?  They were nothing more than a small, enclosed tube with something mysterious inside that, when shaken or tipped over, emitted a sound.  Anywho...the sounds coming from this teenrooster are down right hilarious.  Everytime I hear his crow (which sounds more like he's being strangled to death rather than trying to rise and shine) I can't help but to think about how we all have our awkward stages.  Sometimes those stages last longer than we care to acknowledge but, in the end, we grow out of them...if not through them onto the next awkward stage.  He makes me want to do what I choose to do and do so boldly--without fear of anyone else's reaction or comment.  So what if I am "a little off" in my attempts...who cares if I don't look or sound or act like I am "suppose to"...I am at a point in my life where I have a few things to say and don't want to keep my words stuck in a muffled tube.  It's time to shake things up and crow!

The Long and Shorts of it

Oh the weather outside is HOT!  So off I went to buy some shorts for the kids.  Is it just me or are the girls' shorts getting shorter and the boys' shorts  getting longer?  When I held up my son's shorts they looked like capris on me!  And when I held up my daughter's shorts they looked .... well...we just won't go there! 
It's times like these when it is fun to have "one of each"...a son and a daughter.  I obviously don't have to listen to fights about having to share clothes.  But I do enjoy having a boy and a girl in my life.  Their interests and their personalities never cease to warm me.  They have inadvertantly opened my eyes to the differences in the sexes.  On a daily basis I am reminded of just how body conscious girls can be and how oblivious boys are.  I see first-hand how guys grab an article of clothing off the rack and buy it while girls have to finger every item in the store, try on one of each color, debate over an indecipherable hue difference, and then 'narrow it down' to the "final 15" choices.  Boys can get by on two pair of shorts all summer long while girls need multiple shorts in multiple lengths, colors, and textures.  And so the saga continues well into adulthood.  There is no use trying to figure it out....we are the way we are because that's just the way we are!
(That being said: this girl will not only be purchasing longer shorts this summer but they will be camouflaged as well!)

Why Did the Parent Sit in the Parking Lot? .... To wait for her son!

It may be "that time again" for a lot of you out there...but it's a first for me. I just had my official first experience as the mother of a high school football player. This experience consisted of dropping off my son early this evening, killing time for the next 3 1/2 hours, and then sitting in the stifling heat for another hour waiting for his first practice to end. We got home close to 9:45 and the boy had the nerve to tell me that he was starving..."for a big dinner." Whoa baby...do we have to get a few things straightened out if he wants to live to practice another day!

As far as the chicken picture goes: believe it or not, this is the sight I saw as I pulled into the high school's parking lot this evening. I considered it "a sign" ... though I'm not sure of what exactly.....

Short Story

What is it with kids?! They are SO demanding!! They want attention, they want food, they want clean clothes to wear....it never ends! Take my son for example: he just came home after a week and a half vacation--during which he wore the same pair of shorts every day. The morning after he got home his first words to me were: "Mom, have you washed because I don't have any clean shorts to wear." HUH?! Say WHAT?! I'm thinking: the kid can live on one pair of cargo shorts for ten days-while away from MOM-and then WHAM!-the minute Mom is back in the picture it's "Wash this!" "Cook this!" "Buy this!"

So, I did what any well-intentioned, loving mother would do...I went out and bought the boy 5 new pair of shorts...consider it my way of conserving water during the drought!

Night Light

I have a little angel
She's plugged into the wall
I turn her on at night
To ensure I do not fall
While walking through the house
After everyone's asleep
I'm comforted by her presence
While down the hall I creep
She lets me know I'm not alone
That everything's alright
I won't stumble I won't fall
While she's shining bright
But just the other morning
When I came out of my room
I noticed the lack of light
I was filled with impending doom
When I reached the outlet
My angel was not there
I found her later on
Lying in a chair
It seems that the light of my angel
Was just a tad too bright
And so my angel of a son
Removed my little light

And so the battle wages on

We silently stand our ground

I plug her in and turn her on

He lays her on the ground

I understand he needs the dark

To help him fall asleep

But I also know that in the night

Our guardians we must keep

Gal. 6:9

As parents we try to teach our kids all of those golden rules our parents taught us; rules such as treat others the way you want to be treated...you reap what you sow...hard work and perseverance pay off in the end...always do the right thing...honesty is the best policy...etc. As adults we learn that although the above rules are ones to live by it seems as if no one really does. It is so hard to tell your kids one thing while knowing they witness just the opposite. Ultimately we end up preparing our kids for the worst while praying for the best.

After witnessing first hand all of the effort, energy, time, and heart that my son put into raising his 4H chickens I wanted him to be recognized. After all, I knew he worked his tail end off...I knew he loved every single minute of caring for them even when his fingers were red and stinging from having them soaking wet in freezing temperatures...I knew he took pride in what he did. But I am not enough and that is hard to realize sometimes.

A week or so ago, while looking for some boots for my husband, the four of us walked into a very upscale western store. We knew the prices were going to be waaaaay out of our price range, but we also know that sometimes a good deal is in the most unlikely of places. I was pleased to notice that on the wall, just to the right of the entrance was a small, brass plaque, on which was inscribed the following:

"And let us not get tired of doing what is right, for after a while we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don't get discouraged and give up." Gal. 6:9.

After looking, but not touching, we exited the store and I pointed out the plaque to my kids-reading the verse out loud and explaining to them what it meant. My son is the one who made the comment, "That's good...I really like that." My son is the reason we were all shopping around for western attire for "the big weekend." My son is the reason I shed tears for two days. For he never tired of doing the right thing and he never gave up...and this weekend, even though his chickens were the lightest chickens in the entire show, and he only received sixth, seventh, and eighth place ribbons...my son won the Bandera County Junior Stockshow SHOWMANSHIP AWARD for 2009!!!

To have your child's efforts recognized by someone else...to know that he did, in fact, reap a harvest of blessing-for doing the right thing...well, it just brought forth tears of joy. It was such a powerful parenting moment -- one that will stay with me forever.

Congratulations, Son...I am so proud of you!

Taking Stock

There is still so much to do
Yet nothing more can be done
The chickens have been fed
I'm so proud of my son
The chickens were crated
In the back of our truck
I hugged him goodbye and
Wished him good luck
The weigh in is early
The show is at one
No matter the place
My boy has won
He always worked hard
In the heat and the cold
He raised them from chicks
Only to be sold
I can write all about it
I can snap pictures with glee
But my husband is the one
Who taught responsibility
Together they labored
To prepare for this show
A boy and his dad
A memory did grow

Not All It's Cracked Up to Be

In less than 24 hours I have had my fill of chickens and

everything that comes out of them. With my son away hunting, the task of taking care of his stockshow chickens along with his "regular" chickens fell to moi. I don't know how I always get so lucky but I do. My son loves these chickens and works so dang hard each and every day making sure that they are provided for. He cleans their coop, their feed trays, and their water stations. He makes certain that the heat lamps are on in the event of a freeze and the fans are blowing when it gets too hot. Before he left he made sure that I knew what to do and what not to do...and when to do it.

Last night, after my daughter and I got home from a full day of shopping, the sky was starting to darken and the temperatures were dropping. I had a friend due to arrive in less than three minutes and my sister-in-law was just taking a pizza out of the oven. But, before I could dole out hugs and start to dine, I had to do the chicken dance. I went over to the "regular" coop, collected some "clean" eggs, (which means they do not have as much chicken poop on them as the ones due to hatch), scooped and poured some fresh feed, and refilled the water jug. Next it was off to the 'show' coop. This one was a little trickier. First I had to feed and water the culled chickens. Then I had to do the same with the show chickens. There is a lot of poop, water, mud, and climbing involved. Once that chore was completed I went into the kitchen and started putting some groceries away. I had bought a still-warm rotisserie chicken and quickly discovered that its juices were leaking all over my counter...greasy juices...the kind that don't really wipe up the first four times you try. These slimy liquids made their way to the kitchen floor as well...gave it a nice shine though so I went ahead and smeared it as far as it would go with the dish towel. When I tried to squeeze the chicken into the fridge I heard a sound I immediately recognized as a cracked egg. There, in the back, was the cracked remnants of a raw egg...bright yellow yolk slipping its way down the backside of the fridge, pooling on top of the glass shelves, and collecting in between the glass along the edges. After a few quiet moments to myself it was determined that since the egg was not rotten and since the temp in the fridge would remain cold the clean up could wait until my son got home.You see, he had picked up the habit of setting the eggs in the refridgerator instead of in an actual egg carton.

We went ahead with our girls' night plans and after an evening of homemade pizza, a movie that brought us to tears and wrapped us in laughter, and bowls of Blue Bell Coffee Ice Cream, caramel syrup, brownies, and whipped cream, we called it a night...a good night.

The next morning, when I went outside to repeat all of the above mentioned chicken checkin' duties, I was met with the drone of either flies or bees. The hum met me way before I was anywhere near the coop. I had visions of a massacre that had occurred while I slept the night away...Please God...NO...not on MY watch!!! Fortunately it was not flies hovering over chicken carcasses but, unfortunately, it was well over a hundred bees swarming inside the coop. There were bees in every feed tray, inside the water buckets, and completely covering the floor. All of the chickens were huddled in every corner foregoing food for safety. I was amazed that I did not get stung as I did my chores. That evening, my daughter and I were suppose to go into San Antonio to have dinner with my best friend and while were there I was going to return the infamous "polka dot" comforter. But I did not want to leave the chickens to get stung to death a mere week before the stockshow. I knew that I probably needed to build a fire and smoke out the bees but I wasn't exactly sure of the best way to do this. I could not get a hold of my husband or my son as their cell phones were not getting any kind of reception whatsoever down where they were hunting. Just before we left I was able to get a hold of my brother-in-law who immediately handed the phone to my son. He calmly reassured me that everything would be okay and that he would take care of it all in the morning when he returned. Phew!

Off we went to S.A., but not before stopping first at the gas station as my dash read "Empty!!"--go figure. Once we got to the store, my daughter and I lugged in both bed-in-a bags (I had bought one for her too--but it wasn't going to work either). While we were waiting in line I started digging in my little purse for the receipt that I had diligently saved. Prior to our trip into town I had decided to change purses (Big No-No). Even though I love little purses I am by nature a big bag lady (pun intended). I remember staring at, transferring, folding, and storing the receipt before leaving the house. Now that we are in line the damn paper is nowhere in sight. I leave my daughter in line and run out into the parking lot and begin to rummage through my trunk-hoping it may be in the larger bag I had brought along to keep all of the stuff that wouldn't fit into my smaller bag (I have issues). No receipt. As I jog back up to the store my mind starts reeling with images of us trying desperately to prove to the police that the two huge bed-in-a-bags are really ours-paid for and all. I grab my daughter and tell her to quickly follow me---do not ask questions just walk fast. We briskly passed between the two metal detector panels at the storefront without so much as looking up and into the eye of the security camera. With no electronic alarms sounding and no strong security guard's hand upon our shoulders we ran straight to our car, tossed the bags into the trunk and drove off to Salsalito's.

We sat through a quiet meal as everyone was exhausted but glad to see each other and, quite honestly, relieved to be able to accomplish the goal of getting together at least once over the holidays!

Late that night, once back at home, I was relieved that the bees had retired for the night and all of the chickens were still alive---and still eating! And although I still can't find that freaking reciept, this tired Mama is glad to be home...still alive...and still eating!

While the Cat's Away the Mice Will Play

While some of us were nestled in our warm and cozy beds dreaming of far away places, others of us were jumping out of bed ready to face the day. My son is so excited to be able to go on a hunt down in South Texas with his dad, grandfather, uncle, and cousin, that he was dressed and ready to go by the time I stumbled out of bed. If I had not set an alarm he would have left without me ever knowing it....sons. I sat down at the kitchen table with him while he ate a bowl of cereal and I diligently took notes on what I needed to do to take care of his chickens in his absence. I loved seeing him eager and happy.

With all the guys out of the house for at least a day and a half-maybe two-My daughter and I will have some quiet time together. What to do? What to do? Later on this evening we have a girls' night planned at the house. We are going to watch Mama Mia and paint our nails. We might even pop some good old fashioned Jiffy Pop Popcorn. The fridge is stocked with mini Cokes and Sunny Delight...life is good! There's a chance she and I may make our way into S.A. to do a little bumming around--just because we can. But until the stores open their doors, and while she's still asleep, I think I may just enjoy a quiet cup of coffee and watch the Today Show...celebrating the first day of my vacation that I got out of bed before 10:00!!!

Horsing Around

Thanks to an invite from a friend my kids and I were able to enjoy being outdoors atop Raider-a beautiful thoroughbred. Just being able to sit in the saddle listening to the give of the leather beneath you makes one believe she is capable. Knowing that you have got to love and respect an animal enough to surrender to it while at the same time trying to convince it that you are in charge can be quite humbling. The power beneath you combined with the power within you makes for both an exhilerating and contented day. Being able to watch your children-so small and fragile-straddle such a large animal and trot off into the sunset stirred nothing but pleasant feelings inside of me. I did not have any feelings of fear as I watched them learn to assert themselves. I did not feel dread when the pace quickened. Both my son and daughter have a deep love and respect for animals and I am grateful for the opportunity that they had today thanks to the invite of a friend.

Little Toes

Little toes

Dangling from the legs of a little boy

Swinging to and fro

Not quite able to reach the ground

Needing someone to push him

Soon these legs will grow

Feet will touch and no one will be needed

Bag It

I snuck out of the house today at noon. I locked myself into my car and drove off with the sunroof open and the radio on. I called my kids to let them know that I was on my way into San Antonio once I knew I was a safe distance away--the point of no return. I really did not know what I was going to do, where I was going to go, or when I would return. I did know that I simply wanted to be alone and I wanted to amble at leisure. I thought briefly about taking in a movie but decided against it since there was not anything I was eager to see. I ended up in the bedding department at TJ Max. My son sleeps in a twin bed with our old king sized comforter draped over it. Since there were some good after Christmas sales going on I decided to get him a proper bed in a bag. I found one that I liked...very cozy and warm. It had "circles" of tan, beige, and chocolate brown all over it. I had a slight hesitation about buying it since I didn't really shop around--knew better than to buy it just to buy it. But, in the end, I figured what the heck...it beats the way-too-big comforter he uses now.

I was actually a little giddy at the prospect of surprising him with a new bedspread--especially since he has finally finished cleaning out his room (this has been a HUGE undertaking...one that has taken up nearly every weekend in November and December!). While he was outside I made his bed and set his pillow atop it all just so. Later, when I heard him enter the house I came out of my room smiling and followed him to his room...anxious to witness his surprise and excitement.
"Get that thing off my bed!" were his first words.
"But, feel it ... it's soooo soft," I tried.
"Yeah, it is soft...but I don't want it in my room."
After that mother-son bonding moment I started to see that the "circles" did look a lot more like polka dots ... especially in the eyes of a thirteen year old boy...a boy that was covered in camo from head to toe...with a pellet gun slung across his body...and dirt everywhere the camo was not.
So his room is not Pottery Barn perfect...
So I'm not Martha Stewart...
So what...

My Gifts

I was given two gifts of love
Sent to me from heaven above
One a daughter
The other a son
Two separate lives
Three hearts as one
From infants to toddlers
From preschool to teen
These children I've watched
Their lives I have seen
Soon they will be
Gifts to another
But forever I'll always
Be their mother

My Gifts

I was given two gifts of love
Sent to me from heaven above
One a daughter
The other a son
Two separate lives
Three hearts as one
From infants to toddlers
From preschool to teen
These children I've watched
Their lives I have seen
Soon they will be
Gifts to another
But forever I'll always
Be their mother

I Am A Dirty Girl

Since I had to leave work early today (because my daughter got sick at school) and since tonight Jmy son has his weekly Confirmation classes from 6:00-8:00, the task of tending to the 4-H show chickens fell to me. Nevermind the fact that the last solid meal that I ate was on Saturday evening (that's 4 days ago for those counting) and I've gulped down over 130 oz of Gatorade...it doesn't matter that I feel weak and puny...it's no excuse that I had to pull over on the side of the road on the way home to help my daughter barf into a plastic grocery bag...a farm never sleeps. So, after I got my daughter tucked into her bed, and after I got the car unloaded and the toxic bag tossed well over a cliff-I set out to help my son out.

I had received explicit instructions via cell phone and I vowed to follow them to the best of my abilities. Before I walked down to the barn to gather the eggs and refresh the water in the regular chicken coop I first changed into my black velour robe that my mother had given me as a gift one year. It is one of my favorite things to put on after I take everything off. I stepped into my comfy pink Crocs and went to work. Since it was misting and foggy outside it immediately became apparent that I would not be wearing my comfy shoes back inside the house...not after mushing down upon fresh coop poop.

Next stop: the show chicken coop. Here is where it got dirty. I kept having to maneuver my way over a four foot piece of tin that makes up one of the walls keeping the chicks contained. Since I was wearing a robe this was starting to become a challenge. After I stepped on the end of my black robe with a gooey shoe I gave in and simply started wiping my mucky hands all over me. That's when I noticed that one of the chicks had died and was being trampled on repeatedly as the others made their way to one of the feeders. So here I am, feeling barfy as it is, gathering up a dead chick inside a plastic grocery bag and walking it out to the dried up caliche pit/pond where a burn pile is forming....in my velour robe and my pink Crocs. I kept looking around for the hidden camera but still have yet to find it.

After emptying all of the feeders and rinsing out each water feeder I refilled them all according to my directions. I stomped off toward the house, kicked off the Crocs, stripped down to my necklace, took a hot shower, and disenfected the kids' bathroom.

Chicks Rule

With exactly one week to go before Thanksgiving my son brought home 40 baby chicks today. Why? Because he is a member of our County,s 4H and, after winning the Jr. Showmanship award along with placing 3rd in his division, he has decided to show chickens again in the January Stockshow. This morning, at 6:30 a.m.father and son went to make their selection. All participants must pick up their chicks on the same day and, in all likelihood you don't really know what you're getting until they start to grow. In other words it's as fair as it can get.

My son has been diligently working sanitizing the coop, prepping the area, and purchasing the necessary supplies for the past several weekends. He is such a hard worker. Tonight, the chick's first night "home," my son had a heat lamp already set up for them. Those furry yellow peeps didn't even know they were in harm's way when my son raced outside and chased away the raccoon he noticed slinking towards the coop. He just happened to catch a glimpse of the night bandit while working on his homework.

The wind is whipping things up outdoors reminding us to be thankful that we are inside safe and warm. The high tomorrow is only suppose to be in the mid 50s so I'm thinking I may need a heat lamp set up over my bed! I dug in my bag of "winter accessories" to make sure I'd be prepared in the morning: gloves-check!; muffler-check!; ear warmer/headband/thingy-check!check!check! I'm already wearing my fleece pjs and have thrown the razor and toenail polish out the window! This chick's had it with upkeep! Hell I can't even keep up let alone upkeep these days!

Game Over

This is the sort of thing that always seems to happen to me: after my son’s last football game we went to Bill Miller’s for a nice celebratory dinner of some good old bbq. Except when we ordered we were told they were “out of brisket.” Say what?! It was 7:30 p.m. on a Tuesday night…huh?! We were told that if we wanted to wait a delivery truck was en route and it should arrive in approximately fifteen minutes. We decided to wait…and wait we did…way over 15 minutes. Eventually we were called to the counter by the manager and were given 2 complimentary sweet teas…but no brisket. When we finally received our “Poor Boys” (go figure) they were shoved inside a brown bag for us to eat on the road. So much for a sit down dinner.

Now back to the game…it was super! "We" beat the opposition 26-20 in a nailbiting finish. It was very exciting and it helped the team to end the season on a great note. The sky was navy blue, the lights were shining brightly, and the air was crisp and cool. I had introduced myself to another mother during half time so we felt completely comfortable hugging each other when the game-winning catch was made.

My son got a taste of the term ‘bittersweet’ as he had to turn in his equipment and uniform the next day. He did not want it to end. I am so glad that he had such a positive experience.