Category: sports

Life is for the Living

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If you are wondering if I just quoted Harry Potter, you would be absolutely right! I’m a nerd that way! But, like, a cool nerd!

I got a little mopey the last few weeks. I’m not going to lie. It wasn’t my best couple of weeks for many reasons. I won’t go into all of those reasons, but I’ll just say it was raining, I felt alone, I was attempting to mend a broken heart, and I just didn’t feel like doing anything. I shut out the people I love. I shut out family. I shut out friends. I shut out the world.

But also, while drowning in my own self induced misery, some really fucking awesome things happened. Jack tried out for a travel baseball team out of state and was offered a position on the spot. Ash, if he had a grave, would be rolling in it, as we always said that Jack didn’t need to play travel sports until maybe his teenage years. That was, however, before the whole world shut down including all youth sports.

Now, I’m going to justify our reason for joining the travel team just a bit (especially so Ash can hear it and stop with all the dramatic theoretic grave rolling). Firstly, I did not realize how depressed my 10 year old son was until I saw him happy again. Read that again. I did not realize how DEPRESSED MY 10 YEAR OLD SON WAS until I saw him happy again. Call me daft, call me blind, call me selfish. I could be considered all of those things. But the boys and I have been trudging along, thinking we’re doing the best we can. I took Jack to one baseball practice and he turned into an entirely different child. A child that I had not seen in quite some time. He was laughing, he was telling hilarious jokes, he was engaging in conversation with me. All things that I didn’t realize were missing until they returned. My sweet, happy child had come back. With one baseball practice that lasted no longer than 2 hours. 

Secondly, so far in his short 10 years, Jack has an aptitude, enthusiasm, love and talent for sports, especially baseball. And he has gotten to the age where we (we as in his family – me, PawPaw and Uncle G) cannot teach him anymore. He’s at the age where there’s nothing he doesn’t know, nothing he can’t do and absolutely nothing we can teach him, We’ve reached the preteen, prepubescent, pre “holy shit will mama survive this” stage of life. We can no longer help him due to excessive attitude, eye rolling and heavy sighing (lest we backhand him multiple times a day, which, I’m told, is frowned upon). So in the interest of saving all of our relationships (and potentially our lives), it’s best that he seek his baseball counsel elsewhere.

And lastly, (and I’m sorry, but this is going to sound a little braggy here, but if you can’t brag about your kids’ successes and whatnot, what can you brag about?) he deserves it. He deserves to learn from the best. He deserves to play with the best. He also deserves to work hard and earn his spot, earn his position, earn his right to be with that team, especially given that the current dream is to play Duke Baseball in 8 years. 

We didn’t say yes right away, though. I left it 100% up to him (which is very unlike me, I tend to lean a little more towards the Tiger Mom side of momming so kudos to me!!). Jack has a lazy side, and with everything we’ve been through, it would not have surprised me at all if he had chosen no. Instead, he made a list (very Ash like in nature). He made a list of the pros. He had a list of the cons. He weighed them heavily. And he said yes. So our lives are about to get a little crazier, but in the best possible way. Because we’ll be living.

I finally re-emerged with family and friends. We’ve gone to the beach, we’ve had cocktails, the boys have played (outside of course) with friends. We’ve conquered the biggest slip and slide I’ve ever seen. We’ve played our own games of baseball. Jack and I have started jogging together (much to his dismay) and doing all sorts of other training tools that are necessary for him to play on his new team. And I do every one of them with him. Because it keeps him motivated. Because he likes having a partner. Because we are living.

Colt graduated from preschool. Certainly it looked much different than years past. But it was beautiful. We were surrounded by people that absolutely adore my Mr. Tolt. He received his “degree”, he felt special, he rode around the parking lot with his head sticking out of my sunroof. And we were living.

This next part is not easy to write about but I’m going to write it anyway in the spirit of living. I think I am being flirted with by a hilarious, handsome, tall, perhaps a touch younger than me man. It’s been a long time since I’ve been flirted with so I could be getting it wrong. But, in all honesty, I do hope that I am not wrong. Because I feel like a woman again. I feel desired. I feel beautiful. I feel feminine. And these are things I have not felt in quite some time. And I like it. Because it feels like I’m living again. And life is for the living. And if nothing else, we deserve to live the shit out of whatever life we have left in us. 

 

Wild and Wonderful West Virginia

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Dear Jonesie:

It feels normal to write to you. I’m not sure why. It’s like P.S. I Love You, but in reverse because you’re the one that’s gone and I’m the one writing to you. Which, obviously, is backwards, but I’m pretty backwards so I’m certain you’re not surprised. Anyway, last letter I wrote to you caused quite a stir. I’m not sure if you can see what’s happening from where you are, or if you even care (I, for one, hope you are so blissfully happy that you could careless what’s happening on Earth, coz let me tell ya, it ain’t all that great). But I pissed some people off. Shocking, I know. I don’t know if this is the easy way out, but I think it’s more of a them problem than a me problem. Or if it’s a me problem, which it totally might be, it’s not something I have the time or the energy to worry about. I’ve got bigger fish to fry, ya know? But I’m sorry for upsetting people you cared about. That much is true. But I’m not sorry for being me.

Anyway, the boys and I took a lonnnnggggg car ride this weekend to Wild and Wonderful West Virginia. Gosh, that is one beautiful state. It started snowing in the mountains of Virginia and didn’t stop until we arrived at our destination. I don’t know why snow is so pretty, or why I think I hate it so much (that’s not true, I hate it because it’s cold and I hate to be cold) but it was breathtaking. Almost like traveling through space, the way it was coming down at times. The boys absolutely loved watching it, so thanks for that, if you had anything to do with it.

The weekend was filled with so much belly laughter that I might have given my core a bit of a workout (ha)! Jack hung with his first ever friend and it was like no time had passed at all. They just picked right up where they left off last time they saw each other. Colt bonded with everyone, I think, as Colt does, with his charming way and hysterically funny nature. Jack practiced baseball with his buddy and won the team practice golden glove award. He went to the mall and bought a pretzel because “we don’t have malls where we live.” The boys experienced hibachi for the first time and it was almost magical (so much more so than that fucking place we won’t mention again, the one with the mouse…). They were beyond amazed. I got a few good pictures but was not camera ready when the cook top was first set on fire. Colt’s face was priceless. That’s one memory that will stick out in my mind for as long as I still have my wit’s about me. (I took that DNA test – the one you claimed was such a rip off because they probably just have a handful of results they rotate through everyone – turns out I’m at advanced risk for late onset Alzheimer’s so it’s possible I won’t remember it forever.)

We ate, we shopped (side note – I suck at shopping – it used to be one of my favorite things and now, nothing. Amazon has ruined me. Damn you Amazon), we drank, we laughed (we laughed hard and often) and we cried. We cried because you weren’t there. We cried because life is so fucking hard, for everyone, with tiny little moments of joy thrown in the mix just so we don’t lose sight of why we’re here. We also cried because, man, children are slobs. It takes them seconds to completely wreck a room, yet when it’s time to clean up, they’re so tired, and they’re bellies hurt and they’re hungry and can’t do anything until they get something to eat. Pansies.

There were 2 five year olds in the house and I don’t know if I had too much champagne or wine or too little sleep, but I decided to let those 2 five year olds give me a makeover. I wasn’t quite going for the Avatar look, but Avatar is what I got. There were way more belly laughs involved in the makeover, though, so it was totally worth it. Colt got over it pretty quickly. His “palms were getting sweaty so he couldn’t do it anymore” and “mama doesn’t look like a mama anymore” so he had to go outside and do man things. Like jump on the trampoline. (Is that manly??? I don’t know!)

You’d be so proud of the boys and the trip there and back. We, of course, had our issues because we were trapped in the car together for 8+ hours each way. But they sure did handle it like champs. I feel awfully proud of myself, too, for making the journey. You know how I hate doing things alone. But I did it. It was fun. It was worth it. We didn’t die. And we didn’t kill each other. We did stop and eat at possibly the sketchiest, and grossest, Wendy’s I’ve ever had in my life, but otherwise got through the actual driving pretty unscathed.

We wish you had been with us. Our friend was so good to Jack. He took him to practice, took him to Dick’s, they did the batting cages, he’s the one that took Jack to the mall and took the boys to take infield. Everything our boy needed before the start of next season. He was happy and having fun, soaking it all up. But, again, we missed you. As we always miss you.

I had a dream about you last night. It wasn’t a good dream. But it was nice to see you. Maybe next time you come see me, don’t be such a prick!

Back to reality tomorrow. It was so nice to escape it for a few days, escape these walls that remind us of you, remind us of what we had and constantly remind us of what we lost. That which doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger though, so we are going to be some strong mother fuckers up in here! Until next time, Jonesie…we love you.

Love,

Poopsie, Donkey and Mr. Tolt

 

Month 3

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Dear Jonesie:

It’s month 3 since you left this world. Happy anniversary?! That’s not appropriate. First, I’ll be nice to you. We miss you. We miss your silliness, your laugh, your smile, your grumpiness first thing in the morning, the way you never know what’s going on any given day. We miss your playfulness, your abilities with the grill, your hugs, your kisses, your love. We miss it all. The good, the not so good and the in between. But we’re doing ok.

Jack just finished his best basketball season yet. He was confident on the court, he was a real leader and he had FUN! Something we’ve been trying to get him to do for years. We have one weekend off and then baseball season starts. Our favorite season (yours and mine that is). This is the first year you won’t be coaching and gosh we’re gonna miss not being able to watch you not pay attention while coaching first base, looking around at everything but the game. Haha! Jack hasn’t expressed whether he’s looking forward to baseball or not. I’m hoping the confidence and leadership will carry over from basketball season but you never know with that boy. You know how baseball is a little bit tainted for him without you.

In other shocking Jack news (seriously, if you were here, this would shock the pants right off of you) – he signed up to do the talent show at school. WHAT?! How out of character is that! He’s going to do stand up comedy. I am floored. You would be floored! He had me order a whoopee cushion today (don’t worry, it was only $5) because that is the prop he needs for his act. I’m so proud of him. You would be so proud of him. He’s blossoming (doesn’t seem like a fitting word for a boy of 10 but whatever), maybe growing is the right word, into such a confident and inspiring young boy/man (boy doesn’t seem right, man definitely isn’t right – so some hybrid in between).

Mr. Tolt is still in the thick of his basketball season. He has improved so much from the beginning. He’s starting to score baskets in practice and even scored once in a scrimmage. Still waiting on the big game score – it might happen, it might not, but he is trying, still great at galloping and mostly having a good time. He just had to bring in a family picture for his Spanish class at school. I was nervous, talked to his teacher about what to do. His family has changed. You, of course, will always be his dad, but I didn’t know if this picture would upset him and I didn’t want that to happen. But this is Mr. Tolt we’re talking about here – blunt, matter of fact, straight shooting Mr. Tolt. Of course he will bring in a picture of his family and it will be a picture with Mama, Daddy, Jack and me. That boy amazes me. He grieves for you all the time. He will sit down, a somber look will come over his face and he will say I miss Daddy in heaven. I wish he didn’t have to go to heaven. I always say me too, buddy, me too.

T-Ball season is right around the corner for our Mr. Tolt. He still hasn’t decided if he’s playing. He really wants a trophy, though, so I think he’s leaning towards yes. The problem is I can’t remember if you get a trophy in T-ball. When he turns 6, I think Boy Scouts/cub scouts will be a great option for him. He’s our outdoorsman. Remember the commercial (I think it was Geico) with the young, rich maybe brother and sister and they’re off to some sporting event that they have no idea about and they’re like “yaaayyyy sports!”. That’s Mr. Tolt. Only he’s not rich. And doesn’t have a private jet. But he really doesn’t get sports. Or love them. Or particularly want to participate. Your brother seems to think that’s going to change and he’s going to surprise us all. We shall see.

Me, I’m ok. This isn’t easy, but we knew it wasn’t going to be. I want to move. I know we spent all that time and money trying to make this house what we wanted, but it’s just not what we want. First of all, the fire station building is still going on, may never end and just all around sucks. Ok, I know it will end but between it and public works, I’m over it. We’ll miss being able to walk to school but you know how much I love to ride and drive in the car, so it’ll all be just fine. The memory of you leaving us behind in our living room is too much to handle. Our memories here are mostly of illness, disease and death. We deserve a fresh start.

I’ve narrowed the lot search down to 2 and I really think I know which one I want, but I wouldn’t mind a little guidance from you somehow if you would be so kind. Except I know you won’t. Someone told me that our loved ones come back to us in our dreams. I’ve dreamt of you exactly 1 time. What the fuck, man? I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Ash. You do what you want, when you want, on the timeline you want. I should be used to it by now. But seriously. I’d love to see your face in my dreams. I’d love to know that you’re still here with us, checking in, keeping your eye on us.

I’m still doing the ladies golf leagues at Turf’s Up. It’s not the same. I’m grumpy every time I go. I want you to be impressed by this, though. I was on bay 4 on Monday and I hit some pure shots. I know they were pure because you taught me so well. I can now tell the difference between greatness and shit. And I had some greatness Monday night. And some shit. Because it’s me. Ha! Anyway, the greatness that I could feel was registering as shit on the screen so I said something to you know who. He told me he was on that bay earlier and it was just fine. I was pretty bitchy and said no it’s not and we kind of moved on. It pissed me off because you know how competitive I am and you know I want to win and I knew I was right because, let’s face it, you and I both know I am right 98.9% of the time. It’s both a blessing and a curse. (Also, side note, the team next to us scored a +7 Monday night and you know who entered into the scoreboard as a +6 – don’t think I didn’t notice, I did, and I’m mad.). Anyway, guess who texts me last night to tell me I was right, cameras were reading the wrong launch angle? It was said you know who. And this girl was right. Coz I know stuff. About golf. And golf simulators. Thanks to you. I also think my teammate and I should get like 4 mulligans next round for the inconvenience. But I’m not in charge. Boo.

We have a 4 day weekend this weekend. Today is the anniversary of your death. Friday is Valentine’s Day. So we’re getting the fuck out of dodge. We can’t be here and our lovely friends in West Virginia invited us to come stay with them for the weekend. Wish me luck. 8 hours there and back with the boys. What am I thinking? It will be an adventure, though. And it will be a distraction. And that’s what we need. Plus, we get to see our friends and we’re so excited about that.

I know this is getting lengthy, but I haven’t talked to you in 3 months. And I have so much to say. You should understand that, no one can talk more than you. I’m still pretty angry with you. And God. And myself. I often wonder if I had forced you into more treatment, would you still be with us today? But I know that wasn’t what you wanted. Or the right thing to do. I know you were suffering. And I know you are exactly where you are meant to be now.

Just to piss you off a little bit, I let the boys shower and use our bathroom every day. I don’t know why that bothered you so much, but ha! I’m in charge now. There are guys and trucks in the bottom of our shower all the time. It would annoy the shit out of you. They also use our fence toilet every day. I kind of understand your annoyance with that one, though. Those dudes can’t aim for shit! It’s gross! The boys still sleep in the same room. They need each other. Maybe, once our new house is built, they will go back to their own rooms. I’m fine with it either way.

Your puppy has apparently entered her “teen years” according to the vet and that means she’s rebelling, as teens do. Do you know how teen dogs rebel? They piss and shit on the floor again. Cool, huh? She’s still really cute but I’m close to my wit’s end with her. Maybe you could send some magic heaven voodoo down to make her stop. Is that possible? The brown girl is still Dog Kellie – bitchy, moany, groany and mostly annoyed but very cute ;). She get’s grayer by the day and that one tumor on her underside seems to be growing at quite a rapid rate. Maybe you need her? But we still need her here so ease up, would you?

Your mom is hanging in there. We’ve had many cries together. Colt is still her favorite. They spend some good, quality time together. She watches the boys on Mondays when I go to golf league and she picks Colt up from school once a week. She’s come to all their basketball games and so has Steve. I just love Steve. One of the best men around.

I know I’ve said it, but we miss you so much. We hope you are happy, pain free and giving God some good tips on his golf game. Check in on us when you can. We’re here and we’re ok.

Love,

Poopsie, Donkey and Mr. Tolt

Winning (and Losing)

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First of all, I will have you all know that I found all 3 fucking tape measures. In the same day! So if that’s not winning, I don’t know what is! I have also started successfully jogging 1.25 miles without stopping. Can’t be long until I’m shitting my pants in the NY marathon because I just can’t stop, won’t stop. Kidding. 1. That’s disgusting and b. I will never run that much ever because I don’t want to.  I went totally out of my comfort zone yesterday and went to a Whimsy Warrior (low impact/high intensity) class. Where there were other people. And mirrors. And an instructor. It wasn’t pretty, but I did it! Don’t let that name full you either, there was nothing “whimsy” about that damn class. My friend told me it was so “chill”. My friend is a liar. But I love her anyway!! It really was awesome. And awful. And I can barely walk today. Also can’t wait to go back again!

Last night was Jack’s first basketball game of the season. He scored a career high 12 points, had several rebounds and just played his little heart out (side note, he’s a bit asthmatic and “we” forgot to do his inhaler before the game so the poor kid was sucking wind the whole time. Mom fail.) It was a nail biter of a game that we won 18-17 (it’s 9-10 year old basketball, keep your expectations low.) Jack’s team was up 18-16 with 6 seconds to go. The other team had the ball and was dribbling down to shoot. Poor Jack fouled the kid right as he was going up to shoot as the buzzer went off simultaneously. Jack was not happy with himself. The other team made the first foul shot and and my son, who happens to be exactly like me (unfortunately, fortunately, who knows?) shows some anger on the court, which looks a bit like bad sportsmanship. He is only 10 and controlling those emotions is hard.

Jack is exactly like me. He looks like me, other than having his dad’s eyes. He’s strong, competitive, sarcastic, emotional, shy, stoic when it comes to matters of the heart, yet wears his heart on his sleeve everywhere else, he’s his own toughest critic. Because of that competitive spirt and critical nature, those emotions show all over the place when on the basketball court, baseball field or football field and last night was no different. When the other team made that first foul shot, he slammed his hands on the court. What looked like bad sportsmanship to anyone that doesn’t know much about Jack, was really Jack being super pissed with himself for making the mistake of fouling. That’s a tough thing to learn at 10 years old, controlling your emotions.

When we got home last night, he broke down in my arms and told me how sorry he was. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what he was apologizing for or why he was crying (he just played the best basketball game of his. life thus far and we won). I just hugged him and rocked him and let him have his cry. When he had calmed down a bit I asked him why he was upset and sorry. He said “I just got so mad at myself, mama. I knew not to foul but I did it anyway and everyone thought I was being a bad sport. I didn’t mean to be a bad sport.” My heart just broke for him. I knew how it looked when he slammed the court, but I also knew that my baby was just being so hard on himself. My little boy has so many feelings running through him at all times, especially right now, and the last thing I want for him is to ever feel bad about how he’s feeling. Feelings are real things, whether anyone understands them or not. You cannot tell someone how to feel or how they should react to something. Sure, as adults, we *can* control our outward emotions (I use the term “can” loosely, lord knows when it comes to most things, you know exactly how I’m feeling when I’m feeling it, except, of course, matters of the heart, I like to keep those feelings close to the belt.) My son is no different than me. How can I teach him to control his emotions when I, myself, can’t control mine?

Sports are a major outlet for him. He excels at them, so far, anyway, in his 10 years. They bring him joy and they also bring him pain. Hell, watching him brings me joy and brings me pain. I guess it’s all about balance. You can’t have the good without the bad. You can’t know what it’s like to win without also knowing what it’s like to lose. I pray he perseveres through, works through his demons and goes on to find all the joy that his heart can hold. In whatever that may be. I hope he always wears his heart on his sleeve and stays true to who he is. Because who he is is really fucking awesome. (And that sounds like I just called myself really fucking awesome because up there a bit I said he was just like me. Guess what though? I am pretty fucking awesome, too!)