Last night = milestone. Took the three remaining Copeland gems out for back to school shopping. While you are rolling your eyes, thanking God you are not "last-minute" me, let me tell you the situation is worse than you think. Last night was only for the school supplies! I still haven't touched the clothing shopping yet. Ouch.
Our elementary school is one of the delightful little places where they offer pre-packaged, pre-purchased supplies for a great deal, at the end of the school year. We have consistently participated in this priceless opportunity for the past, oh, um, at least 4 years or more. This past Spring, my dear, sweet Soccer Chick gave me the run-around. "Mom! I'm starting 6th grade. I need to pick my own stuff." Crumbling easily under the pressure, we didn't do the pre-purchase this year. I am paying for that decision now.
So last night was the punishment. However, balancing that torture with it being the last time we are taking a soon-to-be kindergartner out for his first school shopping trip made it a milestone. We headed out last night to my favorite stomping ground, Target. Friends! If you simply MUST follow in my neglectful, procrastinating footsteps, avoid Target. They deeply disappointed me this year. Target is my everything. My shopping soul-mate. My every fulfillment is found in Target. Thought we would be together forever. Not this time. Empty, scattered and disorganized bins greeted us.
About the 5th time of circling the same empty bins, The Hub starts clowning me. "How many times, exactly, are we going to visit this same aisle?" Or perhaps it was the "did you say we sat in almost an hour traffic trying to get to Target because all the stuff you needed was here? I didn't hear you, is that what you said?" Straight clowning me.
To make it look like the trip made sense, I got a few select, scattered items in Target and headed on to Kmart. Probably my least favorite place to shop and sadly, closer to our home than Target. Yes, friends. Totally could have went there first and avoided gas-wasting, time-wasting and The Hub jokes. And, you can pretty much guess it right? Everything we needed was at Kmart. Isn't that ALWAYS the way?
Youngest was super excited to get his new backpack. The time it took to pick one out had to be similar to making a life-altering decision. This was, apparently, serious business. Youngest stopped, scratched his chin, held several up to the light to see them just right. Even with all that, he was still convinced that somewhere in the world he was missing out on something cooler. Eventually, with some waiting-depleted family members prodding him, he made a selection. Even as I tucked him into bed last night he wanted to make sure I knew that he liked his backpack, but not that much. "There are cooler ones at other stores, mom." To which this exceptionally sensitive mom replied "Go to sleep."
The girls got their items, including the ridiculously indecisive Bball Girl. Man, that girl takes a decision and makes it no less important than whether or not to begin World War 3. It is that serious. The Hub gently...gently "helped" her make her decision. Somehow, at least an hour later the supplies were purchased and we were out of the store. Success! Well, the second half of this show is the clothing shopping...
As these children prepare to board the bus next Tuesday I must confess to you that this year will be different. Each year I stand there as they board the bus and I gush over them in a mild kind of way. Lots of love but no sappy photos as some of my humorous neighbors like to do. Every year I laugh at them, under my breath of course. Those silly people! They are out here in pajamas, hair jacked up, haven't even brushed their teeth, telling their kids to pose and smile. And friends, since I am being brutally honest with you, this being the last "first" time I get to put a brand new kid on the bus, I will have my camera ready. I am strongly considering charging the video camera. I am ready for the interior "first day of school pictures" in our hallway, even if they protest and roll their eyes. Now that Oldest is gone, Soccer Chick is working hard to take his place in doing the "mom, puh-lease!" routine to just about everything I say. But, I don't care. I'm ready.
This year, I may even sing along to The Hub's annual "First Day of School" song. Whatever happens I am going to be brave. I will try not to cry. I will not make you any promises, however. Much like dropping off Oldest at college, this is a big one. My baby is getting on that bus and that is the beginning of the end. Oh, sigh...the beginning of the end.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
"I'm Comin' Lizabeth..."
Remember that from Sanford & Sons? Every time there was anything about anything 'ole Fred was clutching his heart, talking about he was about to die and join his deceased wife in heaven. If I may I'll make a little light of our afternoon earthquake, not to be confused with an afternoon tea, but certainly no California-style drama either...
This afternoon at almost 2pm, I return from grabbing a fast food, didn't-need, lunch to go back to the satellite office at which I was working out of today. Leaving the drive-thru I put my drink between my legs to steer and wouldn't you know the top pops off and that sweet iced tea splashed out. You can guess where it all went to. Great, I thought. Now how am I going to get back into the building without looking like I have a little pee-pee problem. Embarrassing! I wiped my pants best I could and thanked God I had on navy blue pants, wondering why these kinds of things always seem to happen to me.
Shortly after coming back I began helping a rather large, football-player looking type dude and we felt some vibrating that quickly escalated to the building shaking. When I tell you the building was swaying I am not exaggerating. If you have never experienced an earthquake there are no words that I can pen that would explain to you clearly what it feels like for a solid structure that should not move, to actually be moving. Very eery and can cause quite some panic.
As the shaking increased, glass window behind me started rattling and literally the floor on my feet was vibrating heavily I exclaimed that it was an earthquake and told the 4 people in the office to take cover under the large table. Immediately my large football-player-looking friend dove under the table. Now that was a site to see. Two of our folks just stood there and I couldn't figure out why there weren't moving. Only later did I remember that they didn't speak English and I neglected to tell them in Spanish that this was an emergency. My co-worker came in. I saw her feet and she asked what was going on. I told her it was an earthquake and we need to get in a doorway or under something sturdy. Shortly thereafter the shaking stopped. "We need to evacuate," I told her. I made the ridiculous move to go back to the desk for my purse and phone. Don't they always tell you in an emergency don't go back for anything? Didn't mama teach me to listen?
We grabbed our stuff and headed out. The entire 5 floor building was emptying out on the stairwell. As I'm flying down the stairwell amongst other employees, citizens and children I realize I'm way ahead of my co-worker. Thinking that wasn't very nice of me and not wanting to be "that" person, who in an emergency only thinks about herself, I thought about what I could do to help. As I reached the landing of the 3rd floor I see people piling in from that level. Out in the hallway are two women with three small children between them. The smallest one is a baby in a stroller. People are passing them and because they have the stroller they aren't pushing on ahead. I went into the hallway and said "ayuda, ayuda?" and gestured to take one baby out of the arms of one of the women. At that time a gentleman approaching the stairwell stopped to help. He tried to take the baby out of the stroller but he was careful not to move without the mom's okay. I told him to take the stroller and the mom lifted the baby. We headed out.
When we got outside I gave the baby back and they proceeded away from the building with tons of "gracias." I found my co-worker not far away and both of us shaken up a bit took to our cell phones to try to reach someone. At that moment we had no idea how widespread this was. A few minutes later it dawned on me that we could listen to the radio in my car. Then we learned of the earthquake and how far of an area it had been felt.
It wasn't until almost an hour later as I began my car ride home that I finally managed to get through to the Hub. Thank God he was at home with the kids. When he first felt the shaking he thought the kids were upstairs doing something crazy enough to shake the whole house. He went upstairs and realized what was happening. Looking out of the window he discovered 4 or 5 of our neighboring families in the middle of the street, not quite sure what they had experienced. The Hub checked the news and opened the window of our bedroom to yell out to them. "It was an earthquake," he shouted. "No way, really?" they answered. "Yup, and the news says pack your bags. More are 'a comin," he joked. Panic stricken faces asked him if he was serious. That Hub, there is rarely a time when the truth comes out first. "No, just kidding. But it was an earthquake, though."
When I finally made it home amongst the gridlock that was this afternoon's commute I took to Facebook and twitter to check things out. Not surprisingly I could go back far enough to when statuses were boring and nothing of interest was happening, other than people's choice for lunch food and plans for a Tuesday evening. Scrolling up, I read through all my wall posts of people's reaction to the quake. Of course, everyone has something to say and isn't amazing that we can read folks first-hand thoughts of what they were experiencing. That is priceless.
Many of those posts are about getting your heart right with God because situations like this remind us of how undetermined the next minute is. No one expected to live through an earthquake this afternoon. Many of us were very shaken up. I admit, it is a good opportunity to think about where I stand with God. For me, I am a faithful Christian and I love the Lord. I can say that during that time of panic and anxiety I was calm and directed. I knew what it was, and I knew how to react appropriately in taking cover. I knew to tell our office to evacuate and best of all, I stopped to help someone in need.
The events of 9/11 caused us all to reflect on how we would react in that type of emergency, how would we get out of a building, what would we do? For me, I have spent a lot of time reflecting on who I want to be in that type of emergency. I have long prayed that if I am ever in an emergency situation that my gut instinct will be to help someone else in need. I am so thankful that today God prompted me to help those women. Without God, and my prayer to Him being brought back to my memory as I trotted down the stairwell I don't know that I would have stopped to make a difference.
Is that your prayer? It has been, and will continue to be, mine. I pray that God will use me in whatever situation He puts me. The calm days when all is peaceful and I'm able to have a conversation about God with someone and the not-so-calm days when I'm fleeing a building after an earthquake when I can offer hands to someone in need. Both of those are a result of the Jesus in me. Both of those benefit someone else in need.
I'll leave my blog today with a Youngest charm for you. We like to watch Hoarders on TV. We know, our addiction to watching is our own sick obsession. That said, we also watched "Sweepers" the other day, the show about people whose full time job is entering sweepstakes. How do they make that possible? It's unbelievable. As we're watching I say to the Hub, "I want that job. Can I stay home and enter sweepstakes all day long?" Youngest says "Mom! If you enter those and win a bunch of stuff you will become a hoarder and I will move out of this house forever!" I say, "No Youngest! You can't leave. You told me you would live with ME forever." And Youngest comes over and gives me the biggest, smooshiest hug and says "oh yes, mom. I'm going to live here a long time. But only until I'm 19," and he turns the smooshy voice off and with the most serious of faces says "when I'm 19 I got's to go!"
This afternoon at almost 2pm, I return from grabbing a fast food, didn't-need, lunch to go back to the satellite office at which I was working out of today. Leaving the drive-thru I put my drink between my legs to steer and wouldn't you know the top pops off and that sweet iced tea splashed out. You can guess where it all went to. Great, I thought. Now how am I going to get back into the building without looking like I have a little pee-pee problem. Embarrassing! I wiped my pants best I could and thanked God I had on navy blue pants, wondering why these kinds of things always seem to happen to me.
Shortly after coming back I began helping a rather large, football-player looking type dude and we felt some vibrating that quickly escalated to the building shaking. When I tell you the building was swaying I am not exaggerating. If you have never experienced an earthquake there are no words that I can pen that would explain to you clearly what it feels like for a solid structure that should not move, to actually be moving. Very eery and can cause quite some panic.
As the shaking increased, glass window behind me started rattling and literally the floor on my feet was vibrating heavily I exclaimed that it was an earthquake and told the 4 people in the office to take cover under the large table. Immediately my large football-player-looking friend dove under the table. Now that was a site to see. Two of our folks just stood there and I couldn't figure out why there weren't moving. Only later did I remember that they didn't speak English and I neglected to tell them in Spanish that this was an emergency. My co-worker came in. I saw her feet and she asked what was going on. I told her it was an earthquake and we need to get in a doorway or under something sturdy. Shortly thereafter the shaking stopped. "We need to evacuate," I told her. I made the ridiculous move to go back to the desk for my purse and phone. Don't they always tell you in an emergency don't go back for anything? Didn't mama teach me to listen?
We grabbed our stuff and headed out. The entire 5 floor building was emptying out on the stairwell. As I'm flying down the stairwell amongst other employees, citizens and children I realize I'm way ahead of my co-worker. Thinking that wasn't very nice of me and not wanting to be "that" person, who in an emergency only thinks about herself, I thought about what I could do to help. As I reached the landing of the 3rd floor I see people piling in from that level. Out in the hallway are two women with three small children between them. The smallest one is a baby in a stroller. People are passing them and because they have the stroller they aren't pushing on ahead. I went into the hallway and said "ayuda, ayuda?" and gestured to take one baby out of the arms of one of the women. At that time a gentleman approaching the stairwell stopped to help. He tried to take the baby out of the stroller but he was careful not to move without the mom's okay. I told him to take the stroller and the mom lifted the baby. We headed out.
When we got outside I gave the baby back and they proceeded away from the building with tons of "gracias." I found my co-worker not far away and both of us shaken up a bit took to our cell phones to try to reach someone. At that moment we had no idea how widespread this was. A few minutes later it dawned on me that we could listen to the radio in my car. Then we learned of the earthquake and how far of an area it had been felt.
It wasn't until almost an hour later as I began my car ride home that I finally managed to get through to the Hub. Thank God he was at home with the kids. When he first felt the shaking he thought the kids were upstairs doing something crazy enough to shake the whole house. He went upstairs and realized what was happening. Looking out of the window he discovered 4 or 5 of our neighboring families in the middle of the street, not quite sure what they had experienced. The Hub checked the news and opened the window of our bedroom to yell out to them. "It was an earthquake," he shouted. "No way, really?" they answered. "Yup, and the news says pack your bags. More are 'a comin," he joked. Panic stricken faces asked him if he was serious. That Hub, there is rarely a time when the truth comes out first. "No, just kidding. But it was an earthquake, though."
When I finally made it home amongst the gridlock that was this afternoon's commute I took to Facebook and twitter to check things out. Not surprisingly I could go back far enough to when statuses were boring and nothing of interest was happening, other than people's choice for lunch food and plans for a Tuesday evening. Scrolling up, I read through all my wall posts of people's reaction to the quake. Of course, everyone has something to say and isn't amazing that we can read folks first-hand thoughts of what they were experiencing. That is priceless.
Many of those posts are about getting your heart right with God because situations like this remind us of how undetermined the next minute is. No one expected to live through an earthquake this afternoon. Many of us were very shaken up. I admit, it is a good opportunity to think about where I stand with God. For me, I am a faithful Christian and I love the Lord. I can say that during that time of panic and anxiety I was calm and directed. I knew what it was, and I knew how to react appropriately in taking cover. I knew to tell our office to evacuate and best of all, I stopped to help someone in need.
The events of 9/11 caused us all to reflect on how we would react in that type of emergency, how would we get out of a building, what would we do? For me, I have spent a lot of time reflecting on who I want to be in that type of emergency. I have long prayed that if I am ever in an emergency situation that my gut instinct will be to help someone else in need. I am so thankful that today God prompted me to help those women. Without God, and my prayer to Him being brought back to my memory as I trotted down the stairwell I don't know that I would have stopped to make a difference.
Is that your prayer? It has been, and will continue to be, mine. I pray that God will use me in whatever situation He puts me. The calm days when all is peaceful and I'm able to have a conversation about God with someone and the not-so-calm days when I'm fleeing a building after an earthquake when I can offer hands to someone in need. Both of those are a result of the Jesus in me. Both of those benefit someone else in need.
I'll leave my blog today with a Youngest charm for you. We like to watch Hoarders on TV. We know, our addiction to watching is our own sick obsession. That said, we also watched "Sweepers" the other day, the show about people whose full time job is entering sweepstakes. How do they make that possible? It's unbelievable. As we're watching I say to the Hub, "I want that job. Can I stay home and enter sweepstakes all day long?" Youngest says "Mom! If you enter those and win a bunch of stuff you will become a hoarder and I will move out of this house forever!" I say, "No Youngest! You can't leave. You told me you would live with ME forever." And Youngest comes over and gives me the biggest, smooshiest hug and says "oh yes, mom. I'm going to live here a long time. But only until I'm 19," and he turns the smooshy voice off and with the most serious of faces says "when I'm 19 I got's to go!"
Saturday, August 20, 2011
The Long Walk To Home...
Well, friends, milestone achieved. Dropped Oldest off at his dorm room yesterday. And have lived to tell about it today. What a beautiful experience, full of joy, nerves, excitement, anticipation, plucked nerves, huge alligator tears and sweet goodbyes.
The Hub got the car all loaded up. It would appear to any neighbor that the Copelands were going on vacation. Certainly Oldest packed everything he owned. The Hub tried to put one suitcase on the roof, only to break a bungee cord. How is that even possible. With some crafty arranging, we got it all in. All 6 Copelands piled in early Saturday morning and headed out. Not a particularly eventful 3 hour drive to the mountains of West Virginia except to say we had the delight of passing the motorcycle 9/11 memorial ride on the other side of the highway. What a touching thing to see cars stopped on the side of the road, passengers standing and waving at these motorcycle riders and to see the many, many motorcyclists who signed up to be a part of this wonderful event.
The rest of the ride was peaceful and good. The kids, all 4, big and the little ones, excited to get there. A nervous knee rocking back and forth would not be an exaggeration. Once we arrived on campus and the energy and buzz kicked in, our own excitement grew. Students everywhere, blue-shirted Potomac State College clad kids directing people everywhere. Oldest's best friend, somewhere in the mix already. We were delightfully directed to go to the dorm, check in and unload our stuff. Oldest, reluctant, tells me I'm wrong. This is not where we're supposed to be. We're supposed to show up somewhere else. Whatever. He lingered at the car door, thinking I was giving him bad advice, while I was going in. Somebody has gotta take charge, you know? Turns out, I was right. Who would have thunk it?
All 6 Copelands participate in the long haul of stuff up to the 3rd floor of a beautiful building. College students everywhere, lots of excitement, crying mamas and tough-guy daddies. We find his room and enter in. Think hotel room style. You walk in and a double closet is on the right, bathroom shared with two suite-mates on the left. Straight ahead two desks and two beds. Immediately, me in all my room-arranging expertise say "Oh, no. We are moving this bed. Turn it this way and you will have more space." I enlisted The Hub and Oldest to change that bad-boy around. My idea worked and it opened up the space in the room. Besides it put Oldest's desk next to his buddy's desk, which is EXACTLY where he will need to be! It also puts Oldest right beside the window, with no screen, to which we opened and yelled out to his buddy and his arriving family. I sternly warned Oldest, "You CAN fall out of this window. Don't be stupid." Mom-advice. Irreplaceable.
We unpacked a bit, but I will tell you it's a narrow room. Not a lot of space for a lot of folks at once. Good news for the "party in my room" theme being limited to hmmm...not ever. Oldest, with his sweet self, didn't know if he was coming or going. Didn't know whether to unpack, set up his computer, look out the window, search for things in his bag. The settling in of a college student. "Where do I go and what do I do? I have NO idea what I should be doing right now."
Shortly after at least his buddy's mom and I got to set up their beds (friends, you know if we didn't do it those boys would be sleeping on those mattresses with the sheets still in the package), we headed out to the lunch on the Quad. The "Quad"...insider talk. You have to be a Potomac State Catamount to understand. We got to lunch and got served, just in time for those timely Potomac State employees to pack it up. Good thing we got our first serving. There would be no second serving.
After that we visited the bookstore to pick up "our" books, mulled around, with that "what do we do now" thinking cap on, and all pretty much decided it was time to say our goodbyes. We asked if they wanted us to help them unpack their clothes and get their rooms organized. I mean, they are boys, and us moms, are girls, so we are totally thinking not only do we need to do this (because they won't) but we want to do this. The boys weren't buying. They wanted us leave their things as is, and trust that they would unpack and put everything away. The nerve of them. The boys had left us standing outside as they wandered aimlessly back towards their rooms. When we got there we gave our goodbye hugs and kisses. Friends, I did not once all day feel teary-eyed or ready to cry. At some point Oldest asked me how I was holding up and was I about to cry. "Not at all," I told him. "Mostly because you are plucking my nerves." He found that to be quite funny.
But now it was time to go and I was overwhelmed with emotion. When I went in to hug him I literally could not breathe. Nor could I speak. The wave of tears overflowing my eyes and I knew that if I opened my mouth I would be sobbing and the words would not be understood. So I had to settle for my massive tears pouring down my face and holding this boy in a grip lock hug. After a few seconds, he pulled away and I realized he expected me to let him go. I also realized I didn't want to. But, physically and emotionally I had to let him go. So let him go I did and he asked if I was okay. "No. Not okay." I managed to say as I gripped his face in my hands. "I'm going to miss you so much" was all I managed to say as I hugged him tightly again. And then, friends, it was time to let go. So I let him go.
His dad gave him the be good son, you've made it, be strong and behave, talk and a giant bear hug. And then it was time to go. Good thing someone bought him a few boxes of tissues. I ripped the cover off of one of those and tore into them. All around his buddy's family was saying goodbye and somewhere in the mix Oldest's siblings gave some raggedy version of a shoulder dip to be attempted as a claim for a hug. And then it was time to go. Somehow I pulled myself out of that room, the last thing I saw was Oldest kicked back on his bed, ready for whatever comes next. Just enjoying the awe of the moment and the realization that he has arrived.
As we walked down the sidewalk to the car, all the children were watching me, worried I was not okay. I guess the huge tears rolling down my face gave it away. The Hub asked if I was okay, to which I could only shake my head no. No words could be spoken in that moment. That seemed like the longest sidewalk of my life and it seemed that we would never reach the car. Without looking back I got in the car and started the car ride home. I left my baby in his dorm room, the first step of his truly becoming a man. Probably the hardest thing I have done as a parent so far. Letting go of the one you don't want to let go of is a giant task attached to a wealth of faith. Faith to know that he will be okay, faith to know that this is a good thing, and faith to know that it is time.
We Copelands made it home just fine, thankfully with no traffic to hinder our arrival. Shortly after getting home I found Youngest in the bathroom, sitting on the pot, crying and looking sad. "What's wrong," I asked. "I'm sad." he says. "Why?" I ask him. "Because I didn't want Pnut to go. I miss him." We all do buddy, we all do.
At dinnertime the phone rings. Its oldest! What a pleasant surprise, and so wonderful to hear his voice. Everything's unpacked, both boys feeling great. The joy in his voice was warming to our hearts. He sounds great. He'll call me tomorrow. Yeah right.
The Hub got the car all loaded up. It would appear to any neighbor that the Copelands were going on vacation. Certainly Oldest packed everything he owned. The Hub tried to put one suitcase on the roof, only to break a bungee cord. How is that even possible. With some crafty arranging, we got it all in. All 6 Copelands piled in early Saturday morning and headed out. Not a particularly eventful 3 hour drive to the mountains of West Virginia except to say we had the delight of passing the motorcycle 9/11 memorial ride on the other side of the highway. What a touching thing to see cars stopped on the side of the road, passengers standing and waving at these motorcycle riders and to see the many, many motorcyclists who signed up to be a part of this wonderful event.
The rest of the ride was peaceful and good. The kids, all 4, big and the little ones, excited to get there. A nervous knee rocking back and forth would not be an exaggeration. Once we arrived on campus and the energy and buzz kicked in, our own excitement grew. Students everywhere, blue-shirted Potomac State College clad kids directing people everywhere. Oldest's best friend, somewhere in the mix already. We were delightfully directed to go to the dorm, check in and unload our stuff. Oldest, reluctant, tells me I'm wrong. This is not where we're supposed to be. We're supposed to show up somewhere else. Whatever. He lingered at the car door, thinking I was giving him bad advice, while I was going in. Somebody has gotta take charge, you know? Turns out, I was right. Who would have thunk it?
All 6 Copelands participate in the long haul of stuff up to the 3rd floor of a beautiful building. College students everywhere, lots of excitement, crying mamas and tough-guy daddies. We find his room and enter in. Think hotel room style. You walk in and a double closet is on the right, bathroom shared with two suite-mates on the left. Straight ahead two desks and two beds. Immediately, me in all my room-arranging expertise say "Oh, no. We are moving this bed. Turn it this way and you will have more space." I enlisted The Hub and Oldest to change that bad-boy around. My idea worked and it opened up the space in the room. Besides it put Oldest's desk next to his buddy's desk, which is EXACTLY where he will need to be! It also puts Oldest right beside the window, with no screen, to which we opened and yelled out to his buddy and his arriving family. I sternly warned Oldest, "You CAN fall out of this window. Don't be stupid." Mom-advice. Irreplaceable.
We unpacked a bit, but I will tell you it's a narrow room. Not a lot of space for a lot of folks at once. Good news for the "party in my room" theme being limited to hmmm...not ever. Oldest, with his sweet self, didn't know if he was coming or going. Didn't know whether to unpack, set up his computer, look out the window, search for things in his bag. The settling in of a college student. "Where do I go and what do I do? I have NO idea what I should be doing right now."
Shortly after at least his buddy's mom and I got to set up their beds (friends, you know if we didn't do it those boys would be sleeping on those mattresses with the sheets still in the package), we headed out to the lunch on the Quad. The "Quad"...insider talk. You have to be a Potomac State Catamount to understand. We got to lunch and got served, just in time for those timely Potomac State employees to pack it up. Good thing we got our first serving. There would be no second serving.
After that we visited the bookstore to pick up "our" books, mulled around, with that "what do we do now" thinking cap on, and all pretty much decided it was time to say our goodbyes. We asked if they wanted us to help them unpack their clothes and get their rooms organized. I mean, they are boys, and us moms, are girls, so we are totally thinking not only do we need to do this (because they won't) but we want to do this. The boys weren't buying. They wanted us leave their things as is, and trust that they would unpack and put everything away. The nerve of them. The boys had left us standing outside as they wandered aimlessly back towards their rooms. When we got there we gave our goodbye hugs and kisses. Friends, I did not once all day feel teary-eyed or ready to cry. At some point Oldest asked me how I was holding up and was I about to cry. "Not at all," I told him. "Mostly because you are plucking my nerves." He found that to be quite funny.
But now it was time to go and I was overwhelmed with emotion. When I went in to hug him I literally could not breathe. Nor could I speak. The wave of tears overflowing my eyes and I knew that if I opened my mouth I would be sobbing and the words would not be understood. So I had to settle for my massive tears pouring down my face and holding this boy in a grip lock hug. After a few seconds, he pulled away and I realized he expected me to let him go. I also realized I didn't want to. But, physically and emotionally I had to let him go. So let him go I did and he asked if I was okay. "No. Not okay." I managed to say as I gripped his face in my hands. "I'm going to miss you so much" was all I managed to say as I hugged him tightly again. And then, friends, it was time to let go. So I let him go.
His dad gave him the be good son, you've made it, be strong and behave, talk and a giant bear hug. And then it was time to go. Good thing someone bought him a few boxes of tissues. I ripped the cover off of one of those and tore into them. All around his buddy's family was saying goodbye and somewhere in the mix Oldest's siblings gave some raggedy version of a shoulder dip to be attempted as a claim for a hug. And then it was time to go. Somehow I pulled myself out of that room, the last thing I saw was Oldest kicked back on his bed, ready for whatever comes next. Just enjoying the awe of the moment and the realization that he has arrived.
As we walked down the sidewalk to the car, all the children were watching me, worried I was not okay. I guess the huge tears rolling down my face gave it away. The Hub asked if I was okay, to which I could only shake my head no. No words could be spoken in that moment. That seemed like the longest sidewalk of my life and it seemed that we would never reach the car. Without looking back I got in the car and started the car ride home. I left my baby in his dorm room, the first step of his truly becoming a man. Probably the hardest thing I have done as a parent so far. Letting go of the one you don't want to let go of is a giant task attached to a wealth of faith. Faith to know that he will be okay, faith to know that this is a good thing, and faith to know that it is time.
We Copelands made it home just fine, thankfully with no traffic to hinder our arrival. Shortly after getting home I found Youngest in the bathroom, sitting on the pot, crying and looking sad. "What's wrong," I asked. "I'm sad." he says. "Why?" I ask him. "Because I didn't want Pnut to go. I miss him." We all do buddy, we all do.
At dinnertime the phone rings. Its oldest! What a pleasant surprise, and so wonderful to hear his voice. Everything's unpacked, both boys feeling great. The joy in his voice was warming to our hearts. He sounds great. He'll call me tomorrow. Yeah right.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Knotted Up
One of the things us hooray-worthy moms often do is allow our children to do something they ask to do, when it directly benefits us. Don't you know, they will ask if they can paint your nails, massage your feet and so on, right? Alright, so the really young ones will do that...maybe once in a blue moon. And whether or not you let them depends a lot on how much the favor is going to be great for you and how big of a mess they can possibly make. That's straight mom101 logic.
Often, my sweet Bball Girl will ask if she can "do" my hair while we are watching tv, or while I'm working at my desk on the home computer. Usually I will offer a huge "YES!" It's like a head massage. She gets the water spray bottle, some brushes, some combs, and so on. And because my hair is thin, straight and below my shoulders, basically all she can do is brush it, comb it to this side, then flip it to the other side, soak it in water and repeat. Works for me. Love the brushing and the combing. The wet papers and area that results, not so much, but it is worth it.
Just as often, Youngest sees Bball Girl asking to do this and every single time, he thinks he is 2 seconds too late. As soon as she asks if she can do my hair, it never fails he says "shoot! I was just about to ask that." We know that he wasn't and his little brain just wished he would have thought of it first. On the rare occasion when he does ask first, I first usually wonder how I was fortunate enough to have him remember it at that moment and second usually tell him no. He's a boy who likes to take very single toy and turn it into a bungee cord, tied up and twisted around. Not many of his toys have remained in their original state. All around his room you can find toy soldiers and action figures, hanging by a little plastic hand...or even a little plastic neck, tied to a shoestring, roped up and dangling from a light switch, dresser knob or window ledge. Usually there is a car wrapped up in there somewhere too. Because as Youngest tells me, the "man needed to have a getaway car."
A few days ago Youngest recalled that I had been denied his repeated request to do my hair. Finally, I gave in, thinking I had told him no so many times, what could it hurt? Well, Bball Girl felt just like your hairdresser might when she walks by a salon and sees you sitting in another woman's chair. Oh, so not happy. There were many dirty looks and under her breath comments about how he wasn't actually going to "do anything," because you know friends, only SHE knows what she's doing...
A few minutes in, Youngest is spraying away with the water bottle, soaking my face, as I'm sure what his exact goal. He's got a couple of combs, including a fine tooth comb that I typically use for parting pieces of the girls' hair when it is my turn to be hairdresser. All of a sudden, I feel Youngest hits a knot and keeps pulling. I recall this clearly because I don't have hair that knots. Its too thin for even that. I reached back and pulled the comb out and re-combed so we wouldn't have this problem again. Few minutes later, Youngest is busy as ever when he reaches another knot. Friends, I reach back to repeat the problem solving effort and discover that there is an entire section of my hair that is now forcefully knotted around this fine tooth comb. As in major knot. If I had to be realistic I would say that the hair was knotted around this comb at least ten times. In retrospect it would appear that Youngest hit a knot and began his famous "let me tie this thing up" move.
It rapidly dawned on me that I now have a problem. I tried from my seat right there in my bedroom to loosen the hair and pull the comb out. As The Hub sat on the couch and his eyes got wider and wider. I now realized I had a big problem. I rushed into the bathroom and used two mirrors to discover to my horror this wasn't a problem, or a big problem, this was a "get the scissors and cut it out" problem. Friends, I simply do not have hair that can afford to let go of even one strand willingly. Totally consumed with panic I returned into the bedroom to get the spray bottle and try to soak this bad boy loose. Youngest said "can I do your hair again." To which I growled at him "Don't. Say. A. Word." I think he got the message.
I fled back into the bathroom and tried unsuccessfully to pull and tug. I have never seen a knot like this before. Every tooth of that fine tooth comb was buried beneath a mound of knotted up hair. What in the world? The Hub comes into the bathroom to find me with tears rolling down my face, picturing the very scare reality of having to chop off a section of my hair. Super frustrated and a little panicked, if I must admit it. God know how long it has taken for this thin mop to grow this long. Are we serious right now? I was astounded. God knows I can't afford to lose any hair, who could this have happened. The Hub's question was even better. How could Youngest do this and I know feel it? I promise, I have no idea.
No less than 15 minutes later The Hub had the kitchen shears out and was literally cutting tiny pieces of the comb out of my hair. Yes, you better believe I was watching him in both mirrors to make sure not a strand of hair was going with it. Comb tooth, by comb tooth that little fine tooth comb flew in every direction. Little pieces of black plastic all over the sink, but thankfully no hair. The Hub, with his big hands, worked and worked at that knot until finally...finally...the last quarter of an inch of black plastic was left in my hair.
All the while, I had stiffened up, not willing to cry like quite such a baby, wondering what I could do to get that Youngest for his latest deed. The Hub with a look of pure shock and determination on his face. The only words spoken were the repeated question from The Hub, "how could you not feel he was doing this?" and "have you ever tried to get a tight knot out of a shoelace?" Yes, and I know that feeling of just wanting to yank it out of frustration and making no progress for a long time. I get it. My poor head of hair. And because there is just so little of it, there was nowhere to go. Hair just mounded up, wrapped tightly, with absolutely no end pieces in sight. There was no vision of where the hair pieces ended. This, friends, was not good.
Eventually, after a long struggle my hair was lose. The Hub and I breathed for the first time in a long time. Only then did he look at me and say he thought he was going to have to cut it out. I may have hit him if he said that while we were in the mix of this drama. I'm happy to report that I let Youngest live. Next time I saw him, first words out of his mouth were "I'm sorry." Good enough for me. Not ten minutes later, he says "so...can I do your head again." Never in your lifetime buddy. Ever.
These are the war stories us moms live to tell about. I am a soldier. Having survived, yet again, another blow to the momhood. We press on, ladies...we press on.
Often, my sweet Bball Girl will ask if she can "do" my hair while we are watching tv, or while I'm working at my desk on the home computer. Usually I will offer a huge "YES!" It's like a head massage. She gets the water spray bottle, some brushes, some combs, and so on. And because my hair is thin, straight and below my shoulders, basically all she can do is brush it, comb it to this side, then flip it to the other side, soak it in water and repeat. Works for me. Love the brushing and the combing. The wet papers and area that results, not so much, but it is worth it.
Just as often, Youngest sees Bball Girl asking to do this and every single time, he thinks he is 2 seconds too late. As soon as she asks if she can do my hair, it never fails he says "shoot! I was just about to ask that." We know that he wasn't and his little brain just wished he would have thought of it first. On the rare occasion when he does ask first, I first usually wonder how I was fortunate enough to have him remember it at that moment and second usually tell him no. He's a boy who likes to take very single toy and turn it into a bungee cord, tied up and twisted around. Not many of his toys have remained in their original state. All around his room you can find toy soldiers and action figures, hanging by a little plastic hand...or even a little plastic neck, tied to a shoestring, roped up and dangling from a light switch, dresser knob or window ledge. Usually there is a car wrapped up in there somewhere too. Because as Youngest tells me, the "man needed to have a getaway car."
A few days ago Youngest recalled that I had been denied his repeated request to do my hair. Finally, I gave in, thinking I had told him no so many times, what could it hurt? Well, Bball Girl felt just like your hairdresser might when she walks by a salon and sees you sitting in another woman's chair. Oh, so not happy. There were many dirty looks and under her breath comments about how he wasn't actually going to "do anything," because you know friends, only SHE knows what she's doing...
A few minutes in, Youngest is spraying away with the water bottle, soaking my face, as I'm sure what his exact goal. He's got a couple of combs, including a fine tooth comb that I typically use for parting pieces of the girls' hair when it is my turn to be hairdresser. All of a sudden, I feel Youngest hits a knot and keeps pulling. I recall this clearly because I don't have hair that knots. Its too thin for even that. I reached back and pulled the comb out and re-combed so we wouldn't have this problem again. Few minutes later, Youngest is busy as ever when he reaches another knot. Friends, I reach back to repeat the problem solving effort and discover that there is an entire section of my hair that is now forcefully knotted around this fine tooth comb. As in major knot. If I had to be realistic I would say that the hair was knotted around this comb at least ten times. In retrospect it would appear that Youngest hit a knot and began his famous "let me tie this thing up" move.
It rapidly dawned on me that I now have a problem. I tried from my seat right there in my bedroom to loosen the hair and pull the comb out. As The Hub sat on the couch and his eyes got wider and wider. I now realized I had a big problem. I rushed into the bathroom and used two mirrors to discover to my horror this wasn't a problem, or a big problem, this was a "get the scissors and cut it out" problem. Friends, I simply do not have hair that can afford to let go of even one strand willingly. Totally consumed with panic I returned into the bedroom to get the spray bottle and try to soak this bad boy loose. Youngest said "can I do your hair again." To which I growled at him "Don't. Say. A. Word." I think he got the message.
I fled back into the bathroom and tried unsuccessfully to pull and tug. I have never seen a knot like this before. Every tooth of that fine tooth comb was buried beneath a mound of knotted up hair. What in the world? The Hub comes into the bathroom to find me with tears rolling down my face, picturing the very scare reality of having to chop off a section of my hair. Super frustrated and a little panicked, if I must admit it. God know how long it has taken for this thin mop to grow this long. Are we serious right now? I was astounded. God knows I can't afford to lose any hair, who could this have happened. The Hub's question was even better. How could Youngest do this and I know feel it? I promise, I have no idea.
No less than 15 minutes later The Hub had the kitchen shears out and was literally cutting tiny pieces of the comb out of my hair. Yes, you better believe I was watching him in both mirrors to make sure not a strand of hair was going with it. Comb tooth, by comb tooth that little fine tooth comb flew in every direction. Little pieces of black plastic all over the sink, but thankfully no hair. The Hub, with his big hands, worked and worked at that knot until finally...finally...the last quarter of an inch of black plastic was left in my hair.
All the while, I had stiffened up, not willing to cry like quite such a baby, wondering what I could do to get that Youngest for his latest deed. The Hub with a look of pure shock and determination on his face. The only words spoken were the repeated question from The Hub, "how could you not feel he was doing this?" and "have you ever tried to get a tight knot out of a shoelace?" Yes, and I know that feeling of just wanting to yank it out of frustration and making no progress for a long time. I get it. My poor head of hair. And because there is just so little of it, there was nowhere to go. Hair just mounded up, wrapped tightly, with absolutely no end pieces in sight. There was no vision of where the hair pieces ended. This, friends, was not good.
Eventually, after a long struggle my hair was lose. The Hub and I breathed for the first time in a long time. Only then did he look at me and say he thought he was going to have to cut it out. I may have hit him if he said that while we were in the mix of this drama. I'm happy to report that I let Youngest live. Next time I saw him, first words out of his mouth were "I'm sorry." Good enough for me. Not ten minutes later, he says "so...can I do your head again." Never in your lifetime buddy. Ever.
These are the war stories us moms live to tell about. I am a soldier. Having survived, yet again, another blow to the momhood. We press on, ladies...we press on.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Mom-Love
Surely there is someone in your life that you would describe as the absolute sweetest creature on earth. There are some people that are born with that genuine, instinctive desire to be helpful, look out for others and be all-around a caring person. That's my girl Bball Girl.
If you've ever met her you know she is so unique. She's got a lot of tomboy in her and just a pinch of girlie-girl. The girlie-girl part most people don't see. She is particular about her hair and she's become very perceptive of "cute boys" as she likes to point out all too much.
We often joke that she "overhelps." She wants to be so helpful sometimes it is over the top and winds up being not helpful. But even that makes her extra special. She's the middle child so she sometimes feels lost and unseen. I can promise you...and her...we see her alright. She's naturally athletic, excelling at any sport she tries. Even sports she doesn't like. The child is built like an Olympic gymnast or swimmer. And where, Lord, did that come from? Surely neither her dad nor I could boast of being all muscle and no fat. Not even in the prime of our youth.
I say all that to say that often...often...I come home from work to something so sweet from this little child's mouthpiece it just blows me away. She's the type to depart from me with adoration, "miss you"s and "mom, you're so awesome. How could I live without you?" type comments. Yesterday was once such day when I came home and the girl just awed me with her mom-love. I walk in from work to my pretty typical greeting at the door by Bball Girl and Youngest. Man, way to make a chick feel welcomed. They come running, big hugs all around. It is super sweet and reminds me that they missed me all day long. Okay, so it's 80% bored at home all day, but still they are happy to see me!
This particular day Ms. Bball Girl says "Mom, I've been thinking all day. I was thinking I would make a list of things I want to do with Mom when she gets home." Yes, friends, you and I are both thinking the same thing at this moment. Last thing mom wants to do is anything when she gets home from working all day. Especially when they have been home storing up that energy and resting, waiting to pounce on me when I get in the door. Oh boy...I thought, here it comes.
She whips out a piece of paper, labeled: "Things I Want To Do With Mom", and the girl has her pencil ready. "I was thinking," she explained. "That when you come home I want to do some things with you." She begins writing and friends, her list went like this:
Read: check when done
Take a nap: check when done
Massage mom's feet: check when done
Massage mom's back: check when done
watch TV: check when done
Check mom's email: check when done
I will give you a minute to indulge yourself with a chuckle at what my evening schedule usually looks like. The massages were unusual and part of her desire to have this special evening with mom. With her little boxes drawn on the page, she and I literally did each of those things and as we did them she checked them off. Her seriousness about the tasks ahead of her was simply heartwarming. She literally read with me, waited for me to take a "nap", which amounted to closing my eyes for about 3 seconds before she said "okay, NEXT." and moved on to the foot massage.
She was diligent and efficient and oh-so-serious about accomplishing her list. Is that not adorable? What did I ever do to deserve something so sweet in my life? If God wants to make sure that I don't forget how special I am to Him, He for sure gave me this little treasure of a girl as a reminder. She makes my ego boom. When this old chick thinks she is getting old, fat and hair is out of whack, here comes Bball Girl with some adoration I couldn't pay someone to give.
So we completed her list and as we went through each item I reflected on how very special she is. How I could have offered to PAY one of my other little charmers and they might have done a quarter of the job she did with way less effort and no genuine desire to actually do this with their mama. Yet, I am happy to say there was no ulterior motive, no money exchanged hands, no promise of "you owe me something at 5 Below..." Just a sweet girl who loves her mama.
If you don't have one of these in your life you are missing out! I wish I could clone her for you. My best advice would be to make friends with her. I know a lady who is blessed enough to feel some of that sweetness come her way. And what did she do to deserve it? Just have a cute son who's buds with my sweet Bball Girl. Well, and the cost of her friendship, or "stepmom" status as Bball Girl likes to say, is Bball Girl has her phone number...and she knows how to text...Enough said.
If you've ever met her you know she is so unique. She's got a lot of tomboy in her and just a pinch of girlie-girl. The girlie-girl part most people don't see. She is particular about her hair and she's become very perceptive of "cute boys" as she likes to point out all too much.
We often joke that she "overhelps." She wants to be so helpful sometimes it is over the top and winds up being not helpful. But even that makes her extra special. She's the middle child so she sometimes feels lost and unseen. I can promise you...and her...we see her alright. She's naturally athletic, excelling at any sport she tries. Even sports she doesn't like. The child is built like an Olympic gymnast or swimmer. And where, Lord, did that come from? Surely neither her dad nor I could boast of being all muscle and no fat. Not even in the prime of our youth.
I say all that to say that often...often...I come home from work to something so sweet from this little child's mouthpiece it just blows me away. She's the type to depart from me with adoration, "miss you"s and "mom, you're so awesome. How could I live without you?" type comments. Yesterday was once such day when I came home and the girl just awed me with her mom-love. I walk in from work to my pretty typical greeting at the door by Bball Girl and Youngest. Man, way to make a chick feel welcomed. They come running, big hugs all around. It is super sweet and reminds me that they missed me all day long. Okay, so it's 80% bored at home all day, but still they are happy to see me!
This particular day Ms. Bball Girl says "Mom, I've been thinking all day. I was thinking I would make a list of things I want to do with Mom when she gets home." Yes, friends, you and I are both thinking the same thing at this moment. Last thing mom wants to do is anything when she gets home from working all day. Especially when they have been home storing up that energy and resting, waiting to pounce on me when I get in the door. Oh boy...I thought, here it comes.
She whips out a piece of paper, labeled: "Things I Want To Do With Mom", and the girl has her pencil ready. "I was thinking," she explained. "That when you come home I want to do some things with you." She begins writing and friends, her list went like this:
Read: check when done
Take a nap: check when done
Massage mom's feet: check when done
Massage mom's back: check when done
watch TV: check when done
Check mom's email: check when done
I will give you a minute to indulge yourself with a chuckle at what my evening schedule usually looks like. The massages were unusual and part of her desire to have this special evening with mom. With her little boxes drawn on the page, she and I literally did each of those things and as we did them she checked them off. Her seriousness about the tasks ahead of her was simply heartwarming. She literally read with me, waited for me to take a "nap", which amounted to closing my eyes for about 3 seconds before she said "okay, NEXT." and moved on to the foot massage.
She was diligent and efficient and oh-so-serious about accomplishing her list. Is that not adorable? What did I ever do to deserve something so sweet in my life? If God wants to make sure that I don't forget how special I am to Him, He for sure gave me this little treasure of a girl as a reminder. She makes my ego boom. When this old chick thinks she is getting old, fat and hair is out of whack, here comes Bball Girl with some adoration I couldn't pay someone to give.
So we completed her list and as we went through each item I reflected on how very special she is. How I could have offered to PAY one of my other little charmers and they might have done a quarter of the job she did with way less effort and no genuine desire to actually do this with their mama. Yet, I am happy to say there was no ulterior motive, no money exchanged hands, no promise of "you owe me something at 5 Below..." Just a sweet girl who loves her mama.
If you don't have one of these in your life you are missing out! I wish I could clone her for you. My best advice would be to make friends with her. I know a lady who is blessed enough to feel some of that sweetness come her way. And what did she do to deserve it? Just have a cute son who's buds with my sweet Bball Girl. Well, and the cost of her friendship, or "stepmom" status as Bball Girl likes to say, is Bball Girl has her phone number...and she knows how to text...Enough said.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Countdown to Gone...
Friends, the time is upon us. Not sure if you have been keeping track in the back of your mind. Sort of thinking, you knew this was coming but hadn't really realized the time had arrived. That's sort of how I have been. End of August would come sometime. Oldest would have to leave for college sometime...
The last two weeks have been "get ready for college" mode. Oldest is going through his stuff, figuring out what's going and what's staying. Lots of pre-packing. As in thinking about it, but not really doing anything. You know, 18 year old boy method. Just the way us moms like it. Although I say that, I must admit, this has so far been rather stress free. No anxiety and demands about what has to be done. Everything seems to be coming together smoothly.
How's he feeling you wonder? He says he is very excited, doesn't know what to expect, really, anxious about the change in environment, meeting new friends, finding things to do, sad about leaving home...all that normal stuff.
This morning that sweet boy got up extra early to take me to breakfast. He'd been saying he wanted to do it before he left. He wanted to make sure we had some alone time just to say thanks, without saying a word. You know those moments. It was a very special bagel and coffee, friends, let me tell you. The boy even paid. And you know that made it a milestone.
I didn't cry either. I know you are likely thinking I did. I waited to get my first round of teary-eyed syndrome for my drive to work. Reflecting back on this sweet breakfast and how Friday, move-in day, is right down the calendar from today, and I got choked up. I've been doing so well up until now, I really thought this was going to be okay. Even visiting the school, doing student orientation I managed to be mama-brave. I mean, completely composed and put together. As today is Monday and Friday is 4 more days from now, I'm thinking this is going to be way harder than I thought.
Alas, the time has arrived and Oldest is about to go. I'm happy to report he has a plan. Spend this year at this small school, training and lifting weights, learning the college ropes and doing well in school and next year being a walk-on tryout for West Virginia University's football team. This August is the first August since he was 7 years old that he wasn't practicing for football. Although at the end of the season last year, he welcomed the break, he now realizes how much he misses it in his life. He went from literally throwing his cleats in the trash, thinking he would never play football again (don't get me started on the lecture I attached to that discovery), to setting his own personal goal of using this year as complete training, lifting and bulking up for next year.
Without our own love of football influencing his decision, I am happy to say that I love to hear him say he has set a goal. I can tell you that when he sets his mind to something that is it. He is very strong-willed and determined to follow through.
So, friends, here's to a great year! Four days from now we will be heading to the great state of West Virginia. I have no idea if it is actually great, but it is the start of something great for Oldest. We're so proud of him, so sad it's time for him to go and so ready for him to experience this time in his life. Here's to a great first year at college!
The last two weeks have been "get ready for college" mode. Oldest is going through his stuff, figuring out what's going and what's staying. Lots of pre-packing. As in thinking about it, but not really doing anything. You know, 18 year old boy method. Just the way us moms like it. Although I say that, I must admit, this has so far been rather stress free. No anxiety and demands about what has to be done. Everything seems to be coming together smoothly.
How's he feeling you wonder? He says he is very excited, doesn't know what to expect, really, anxious about the change in environment, meeting new friends, finding things to do, sad about leaving home...all that normal stuff.
This morning that sweet boy got up extra early to take me to breakfast. He'd been saying he wanted to do it before he left. He wanted to make sure we had some alone time just to say thanks, without saying a word. You know those moments. It was a very special bagel and coffee, friends, let me tell you. The boy even paid. And you know that made it a milestone.
I didn't cry either. I know you are likely thinking I did. I waited to get my first round of teary-eyed syndrome for my drive to work. Reflecting back on this sweet breakfast and how Friday, move-in day, is right down the calendar from today, and I got choked up. I've been doing so well up until now, I really thought this was going to be okay. Even visiting the school, doing student orientation I managed to be mama-brave. I mean, completely composed and put together. As today is Monday and Friday is 4 more days from now, I'm thinking this is going to be way harder than I thought.
Alas, the time has arrived and Oldest is about to go. I'm happy to report he has a plan. Spend this year at this small school, training and lifting weights, learning the college ropes and doing well in school and next year being a walk-on tryout for West Virginia University's football team. This August is the first August since he was 7 years old that he wasn't practicing for football. Although at the end of the season last year, he welcomed the break, he now realizes how much he misses it in his life. He went from literally throwing his cleats in the trash, thinking he would never play football again (don't get me started on the lecture I attached to that discovery), to setting his own personal goal of using this year as complete training, lifting and bulking up for next year.
Without our own love of football influencing his decision, I am happy to say that I love to hear him say he has set a goal. I can tell you that when he sets his mind to something that is it. He is very strong-willed and determined to follow through.
So, friends, here's to a great year! Four days from now we will be heading to the great state of West Virginia. I have no idea if it is actually great, but it is the start of something great for Oldest. We're so proud of him, so sad it's time for him to go and so ready for him to experience this time in his life. Here's to a great first year at college!
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