I'm just a mom, sitting here, with a keyboard and a screen, asking my brain to shut down enough to get some sleep. Yet I can't get my brain to do that. The night before the first day of school has always been one of those late-night-can't-turn-it-off moments for me, but I think it may be worse now as a mother than it was when I was a teacher. I now realize that tomorrow morning, I'll be packing up a 7th grader, a 3rd grader and a 1st grader for school. While many pieces of my life aren't exactly what I expected, well, I just quit expecting anymore.
While I am sinisterly contemplating driving up in a mask in my minivan to pick up my kids from school, I find myself getting misty-eyed thinking back to May as Super K walked down the aisle and across the stage to graduate Kindergarten. It might've been one of the highlights of my motherhood thus far. But tomorrow, yes TOMORROW, she is considered a first grader and is moving to a classroom on the big hall. I know she will be well taught and loved all year and I'm so excited to see the possibilities for her this year. Of all of my kids, she holds the most exciting possibilities - not to be some professional something someday - but just in everyday life. Every moment with her counts even though I thought I'd pull my hair out by the end of this summer. There is just no down time in the world of Super K.
Abigail, my somewhat ruthless and brutal truth speaker, seems so much older than third grade most of the time, but at the end of the day, her meltdowns remind me she is not that big a kid. She is still a stubborn, and sometimes shy, little girl who still wants her momma to braid her hair - on her terms. We sent her off to church camp, a basketball day camp, and a horse camp this summer. She has really grown as a person. Now every time I look up, she is doing a weird dance, teaching me a new card game, or just being extra sassy. Never ask for her opinion if you aren't ready for it. She is my right hand and I'm seriously going to feel lonely while she is at school each day.
Then there is Wade. This is the hardest part of tomorrow. I have six short years left with him under my roof before he graduates and leaves home. He begins seventh grade. SEVENTH GRADE. Now realize, Wade has never known he wasn't a teenager because he has been subjected to so many teenagers through my work, but now, he is knocking on the door of being a teenager. He starts junior high tomorrow. He gets to start picking classes and changing classes for real. He is growing up and though he may be taller than me, I will see him as the little baby I began with. Today, I took him for some immunizations, and as he sat there and took them, I just remembered taking him as a tiny baby for that first set of shots and how he cried - and then ran a horrible fever. When he asked what I was staring at him for, I just couldn't admit what I was thinking.
Wade is a sports nut. If he will apply just half of the power he has to apply to sports statistics, to his studies, the boy could be the top of his class. First of all, I have no idea when he attended boys' sport statistics school, and second, I have no clue how this just seems to happen. He is so excited to begin school sports, and I'll admit, I'm getting pretty excited myself because he is so passionate about it all. I mean, truly passionate. This is something else I don't really understand because this is the last thing either of his parents were passionate about. (Insert laughter.)
If I could really tell my son what my heart says, I'd tell him to always be passionate about what he is doing. Be a leader both on and off the field. Treat everyone with utmost respect. Give God all the glory for blessing you with talents - whatever those are. Help the guy who is down to get up even if he is the opponent. You may have turned out so differently than I ever imagined my son would be, but I am so proud to see how hard you play any sport with all your heart. All of it. I may not know everything about sports, but I will darn sure cheer you on at every event possible. I am so thankful and proud to be your momma.
And so football begins soon. {sigh} I am excited and terrified all at once. My very first days of employment were at Mart ISD as their super young new home economics teacher. My classroom was probably the very last of its kind: a Home Economics Cottage. An entire cottage to teach in, complete with a formal living and dining area. When I began working in my new classroom, lots of coaches were in and out of the formal living area tending to some legal business regarding a student. This young man was injured playing football. Not just an "oh he broke his leg" injury, but an "oh, his life is forever altered and he is now in the life skills class" injury. These were my very first days as a new teacher. This young man was on my heart a couple of weeks ago, and even though I thought it was because I was having an emotional meltdown, it was really God speaking to me I believe, as I found out last week, that he had died during that same time he was on my mind. He was 38.
I share this because it really shaped my mind differently about sports injuries and how quickly a life is changed. Will I tell my son he cannot play football? No. That is his choice. I could easily beg him to not play, but that just lets Satan win if I constantly live in fear. If I could wrap him in extra padding, I'd totally go for it, but I know that isn't practical. Instead of living in fear, I place my faith in God as I have prayed for him, his teammates, and very much for his coaches. I have prayed for their guidance and wisdom sent from God and that they will listen and follow. I pray for that safety daily at school, but for this momma, it's a whole other level of prayer for safety. Living in God's light means setting aside my darkness and fears each day. But isn't that parenting each and every moment after that child is born? It certainly has been for me.
Dear coaches, take care of my boy. He is my only boy. I'll keep praying for all of you.
Love,
Wade's Mom
While I am sinisterly contemplating driving up in a mask in my minivan to pick up my kids from school, I find myself getting misty-eyed thinking back to May as Super K walked down the aisle and across the stage to graduate Kindergarten. It might've been one of the highlights of my motherhood thus far. But tomorrow, yes TOMORROW, she is considered a first grader and is moving to a classroom on the big hall. I know she will be well taught and loved all year and I'm so excited to see the possibilities for her this year. Of all of my kids, she holds the most exciting possibilities - not to be some professional something someday - but just in everyday life. Every moment with her counts even though I thought I'd pull my hair out by the end of this summer. There is just no down time in the world of Super K.
Abigail, my somewhat ruthless and brutal truth speaker, seems so much older than third grade most of the time, but at the end of the day, her meltdowns remind me she is not that big a kid. She is still a stubborn, and sometimes shy, little girl who still wants her momma to braid her hair - on her terms. We sent her off to church camp, a basketball day camp, and a horse camp this summer. She has really grown as a person. Now every time I look up, she is doing a weird dance, teaching me a new card game, or just being extra sassy. Never ask for her opinion if you aren't ready for it. She is my right hand and I'm seriously going to feel lonely while she is at school each day.
Then there is Wade. This is the hardest part of tomorrow. I have six short years left with him under my roof before he graduates and leaves home. He begins seventh grade. SEVENTH GRADE. Now realize, Wade has never known he wasn't a teenager because he has been subjected to so many teenagers through my work, but now, he is knocking on the door of being a teenager. He starts junior high tomorrow. He gets to start picking classes and changing classes for real. He is growing up and though he may be taller than me, I will see him as the little baby I began with. Today, I took him for some immunizations, and as he sat there and took them, I just remembered taking him as a tiny baby for that first set of shots and how he cried - and then ran a horrible fever. When he asked what I was staring at him for, I just couldn't admit what I was thinking.
Wade is a sports nut. If he will apply just half of the power he has to apply to sports statistics, to his studies, the boy could be the top of his class. First of all, I have no idea when he attended boys' sport statistics school, and second, I have no clue how this just seems to happen. He is so excited to begin school sports, and I'll admit, I'm getting pretty excited myself because he is so passionate about it all. I mean, truly passionate. This is something else I don't really understand because this is the last thing either of his parents were passionate about. (Insert laughter.)
If I could really tell my son what my heart says, I'd tell him to always be passionate about what he is doing. Be a leader both on and off the field. Treat everyone with utmost respect. Give God all the glory for blessing you with talents - whatever those are. Help the guy who is down to get up even if he is the opponent. You may have turned out so differently than I ever imagined my son would be, but I am so proud to see how hard you play any sport with all your heart. All of it. I may not know everything about sports, but I will darn sure cheer you on at every event possible. I am so thankful and proud to be your momma.
And so football begins soon. {sigh} I am excited and terrified all at once. My very first days of employment were at Mart ISD as their super young new home economics teacher. My classroom was probably the very last of its kind: a Home Economics Cottage. An entire cottage to teach in, complete with a formal living and dining area. When I began working in my new classroom, lots of coaches were in and out of the formal living area tending to some legal business regarding a student. This young man was injured playing football. Not just an "oh he broke his leg" injury, but an "oh, his life is forever altered and he is now in the life skills class" injury. These were my very first days as a new teacher. This young man was on my heart a couple of weeks ago, and even though I thought it was because I was having an emotional meltdown, it was really God speaking to me I believe, as I found out last week, that he had died during that same time he was on my mind. He was 38.
I share this because it really shaped my mind differently about sports injuries and how quickly a life is changed. Will I tell my son he cannot play football? No. That is his choice. I could easily beg him to not play, but that just lets Satan win if I constantly live in fear. If I could wrap him in extra padding, I'd totally go for it, but I know that isn't practical. Instead of living in fear, I place my faith in God as I have prayed for him, his teammates, and very much for his coaches. I have prayed for their guidance and wisdom sent from God and that they will listen and follow. I pray for that safety daily at school, but for this momma, it's a whole other level of prayer for safety. Living in God's light means setting aside my darkness and fears each day. But isn't that parenting each and every moment after that child is born? It certainly has been for me.
Dear coaches, take care of my boy. He is my only boy. I'll keep praying for all of you.
Love,
Wade's Mom
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