Apr 24, 2012
My son means everything to me. Well, both of my boys do. Precious and dear do not capture an ounce of the feelings I have for them. It's the kind of love that makes my heart feel like it is bursting one minute and busting the next. When my boys were little, I felt great love and pride for them with not as much of the heartache that other moms of older kids spoke of. I get it now.
I got a good dose of heartache as my son's developmental delay was becoming more challenging and a diagnosis was made. I think about how anxious I was while we were going through the evaluation process. I was scared, angry and at times, heart broken.
I was still under the illution then that life had to be perfect. I had to be the super uber mom and my kids must be fabulous and wonderful at all times. While one could take one look at us during the early years . . . my messy hair and tired eyes and my kids in mismatched outfits with a few food stains on them . . . and know instantly that we were a long way from perfection. But we all had smiles on our faces. We were innocently blissful not knowing that life would get harder.
I never knew that I cared about my kids being good at things. When my son struggled and I heard about what my friend's kids were doing . . . I felt a bit of a sting. When I see a friend of my son's doing something right away that my son has worked on for a long time, it's another shot to the heart. I never realized that I was competative. Oh, this is a horrible revelation for me----- I don't want to be competative!! I hate that. I don't want to compare my child to someone else's and hope that my child does better! But years of seeing my son lag behind and watching him TRY so hard makes my mind scream "COME ON! IT'S HIS TURN!!"
Tonight was the first game of my dear son's baseball season. My husband is out of town so it was just me at the game. He's moved up a level and is one of the younger players on his team. His first inning in the outfield, I was on pins and needles . . . he was having some pretend fight in which he was top Jedi, twirling around with his pretend light saber or he was picking up dirt and throwing it in the air or looking at something off in space in the other direction of the batter. Painful to be the mother when this is going on. You can only yell "get ready" and be ignored maybe two times without drawing even more attention to him. So I sit silently screaming inside. I don't want him to be humiliated when he is having his fake battle with various clone troopers when a ball goes right past him or worse he gets hit in the head because he's not watching. Then he was up at bat. This is a higher level, three strikes and you are out. It is half kid pitch and half coach pitch. Kid was pitching on him . . . He swung at something he shouldn't have by jumping out a bit to get it and the coach on the other team laughed at him. This is a pompous man that we know from another sport. This man believes his son will be a professional athlete someday and is very condensending to others that are just trying to give their child a good experience. When he laughed . . . well------------ he's pretty lucky I didn't take that bat from my boy and whack him upside the head with it. Again, painful.
Then when he was in the outfield for the next inning . . . he got to play first base. AND---- my boy caught two balls and got two of the three outs for his team!
And here is the big stuff . . .. Huge. My boy pitched when it was time for kid pitch! This is absolutely huge as he pitched on opening day. Only one other boy pitched during the game. Why? Because not everyone can do it. There is a bit of skill involved, I guess, in being able to pitch well. He struck someone out!! Okay, he walked a few too. But he pitched! The pressure!! And when he is going through the whole pitcher stance and getting ready to throw, the other team is shouting and taunting. He kept his head together and did the best he could. And ---- and I must admit this feels good---- when it comes to pitching, he does better than almost everyone but one or two other kids on his team.
Mind you, my son keeps his hands in a curled position much of the time. You have to understand that my son doesn't like to open his hands or use them much.
My son then got a nice hit and made it to second base when someone else got the third out and the game was over. But, he got a hit. And hits were scarce during this game.
My boy did just fine. Even though he is the master Jedi in the outfield and just called me to his bedroom because his eyes hurt (from too much dirt thrown in them by HIMSELF at the game). He did just fine. And Mr. Pompous Man can kiss my behind. When he cheers his boy on for being fabulous---- I'm cheering because my son is on a team doing something he enjoys. And when he does just fine and chosen to pitch . . . it felt like it was HIS TURN!
PS: His baby brother got a goal tonight at soccer which was before the baseball game. It was a GOOD night.