One Huge Sigh of Relief

Okay... so this is it... the grand finale... the big trip... the World Series. My little Bandits are traveling tomorrow (along with the parents, of course!) to Dalton, Georgia to play in our regional World Series with sixteen other teams. All the top teams in the nation will be there. We are one of those top teams, but this will be the toughest competition we have ever faced. I am excited for the kids; it isn't every day that a group of seven and eight year old boys gets to go to a World Series and compete with such great teams. This whole experience has been amazing, and I know that David has had some of the best times of his little life in the past six months. Now it comes down to playing a handful of games and seeing who rises to the top.

Our boys are great little ball players, but they are young. They are unpolished. They are still so uncertain of what they're doing half the time. But they practice hard, play harder, and laugh in between. So we'll see what happens when the Bandits take the field for their final tournament this weekend. No matter what the result, I'll be proud of them.

I am also thrilled at the thought of it being over. Finally over. We have practiced, played, traveled, sat in the heat, swatted at bugs, etc, etc, and so on since February. And Crazy Mama is about ready to look at the kids and ask the question, "What do we have to do today? Oh, that's right... NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!"

I am tired of baseball. I am tired of soaking and scrubbing uniforms. I am tired of searching for the right color hat. I am tired of Gatorade. I am so over it all, and I am ready to have my life back. We will have a month of complete nothingness until school starts back, and I am going to waller in it... just waller in complete nothingness, if that's at all possible. (And in case anyone wonders or doesn't remember my past discussion of the word waller - yes, it is a word in my book.)

The Height of Our Social Season

When we first began digging the big hole in the backyard, I didn't fully understand the difference it would make in my life. I could envision relaxing Summer Sundays with the family, floating on a puffy mattress in the refreshing water, the kids splashing about, and laughter filling the air.

Do you know I have never laid on a float in my own pool and relaxed?

I knew we would entertain a lot - we are a family that entertains a lot anyway. During football season, we have people in and out to watch the games. If there's a big fight on, we order it and invite folks over. If there is absolutely nothing going on, we still have a few friends nearby to enjoy the nothingness with us. We enjoy having friends and family around, and my husband will invite most anyone to come hang out with us. But since the pool was built, we have had much larger gatherings. Mainly baseball parties.

We have hosted two all star parties (that's twelve players, parents, and siblings), an end-of-the-season party last year (that was ten players and families), three birthday parties for David, and just various get-togethers. In other words, so many of those relaxing weekends I imagined are spent in utter chaos. Complete and utter chaos - cannon ball splashing, little girl squealing, water bomb throwing madness.

It's not that I don't enjoy sharing our little bit of paradise with others... I do. I really do. The kids have so much fun. Everyone leaves saying, "Another great time at the Blair's!" And that really makes me happier than anyone can know. But it is exhausting and taxing on the nerves. And then when everyone exits stage left, there's usually a huge mess to clean up. So, as much as having the pool has been such a blessing for our family, there's this other side of it, too. The "more work to do" side.

So, tomorrow is the 4th. And we've invited the baseball team to celebrate with us - we are playing ball here in our hometown tomorrow, so it just seemed common sense. Our good friend is bringing his big fish fryer, and we are planning on some fireworks after dark. I know it will be fun, and I know all the work will be worth it, but I still have that dream...

Me. Pool float. Refreshingly cool water all around me. (Notice the absence of eleven seven and eight year old baseball players.)

A girl can dream, right?

Happy 4th to all!

A Tangled Web

Facebook. What a fascinating modern connective tissue... a web of people and relationships. I never dreamed I would be so addicted to reading status updates such as, "So-and-So is off to work and then to the gym!" or "This-and-So is going to the grocery store." I mean, why is this stuff so fascinating? I don't know...

I have been so interested to see how people are truly intertwined. I have looked through lists of my friends' friends and thought, "Wow. I never knew she knew him... and her, too." Nearly all my Facebook friends share a couple of friends with me. Even the most random people I seldom see or talk to. I have also enjoyed having the ability to keep up with friends and family in a quick efficient manner that might have been difficult to connect with otherwise. Now I can clearly see that my aunt is enjoying time with her grand kids and my best friend in South Florida enjoyed her last arrival from Netflix.

But there is a downside to Facebook. Like all the friends you feel compelled to accept even though they aren't really friends. And all the people who use Facebook to carry out the facade they live out in the real world. You know what I mean... those folks who are continuously trying to make their life look so freaking wonderful and jolly and perfect but that are living, breathing train wrecks. It's like high school, only without the lockers and homework and ugly PE get-ups. I'm just pointing out how easy it is for people to be fake on Facebook.

Of course, I think we are all a little guilty of being fake from time to time. You know, like right after you accept a friend request of someone you once went to high school with but haven't laid eyes on since the day you switched the tassel to the other side of your cap - we all leave sweet comments and tell them how it is good to see them and that their kids are cute. But is that really fake, or is it just the only thing you can really say to someone that you know but don't really know at all?

Now, anyone reading who is a Facebook friend of mine will now from some recent status updates that I have found myself in the middle of a Facebook Drama. And the whole story is a little too confusing and lengthy to try to relay here, but it involves a comment one of my real friends left on my wall and then one of my Facebook-only friends (which means not a real friend but rather someone I am somewhat acquainted with in real life) took that comment and called some of her real life friends that are also on Facebook and convinced them that comment was directed at them. Are you with me? Probably not, but this only proves how completely insane the whole situation has been. And so childish. Now, some week and a half later, I have been removed as a friend and ultimately blocked on Facebook by this person. And, just a little side note, if there's anyone in your past or present that you don't wish to reconnect with on Facebook, you can block them from seeing any of your comments to mutual friends or from finding your name in a search. I never knew that until the other day. Just file that one in your rolodex for future use. You never know when you might want to over-react to someone else and eternally block them from your Facebook existence. Cause that's definitely the best way to resolve conflict.

Anywho - the Facebook fiasco has really opened my eyes to just how slimy and deceitful people can really be. And technology only furthers the motives of this select group of people. Why some people think it is appropriate to post comments and slander other people and groups they are affiliated with is just beyond me. But I guess some feel empowered by technology - the anonymity provides a false sense of courage. It also provides a new way to give off false appearances about life. I had one friend on Facebook for a while (a wife and mother) that would post daily these spiritual notes quoting verses from the Bible and all the while was carrying on an affair with another man. I've seen statuses that I knew weren't true, pictures that I knew were staged for appearances, and just general untruths. Like I said, all are guilty of the occasional "Oh, everything is GREAT" when it's really not, but I am learning that there are those that carry out a whole fantasy world on their hard drive. And it's really quite sad.

So be careful what you believe. Be careful who you befriend. And always tell the truth or you'll get tangled in the web.

Death

So many deaths of such famous personalities in the last week!

It's not my favorite subject... death. Maybe because I am still so young and the thought of leaving my kids behind is just too much to think about. Maybe because I feel I have so many loose ends and I am not prepared to meet my Maker. Maybe it's just because death is such an unknown dimension. I mean have you ever had a chance to sit down face to face with someone who has already experienced it and find out what it's really like?

I may not like to think about it or discuss it, but it is a fact that I will die. We all will. Our human bodies are not equipped to live forever. But our souls are...

I guess I have always been insecure in my salvation. It's only fitting as I am typically insecure about, well, everything. I still don't understand exactly what it takes to be saved. I have my childhood interpretation that conflicts with my own interpretation of the New Testament. I remember the first time I actually read the New Testament for myself. I was quite relieved to see so much love and grace and forgiveness. It was quite different from what I remember being taught in Sunday school. But I am still so spiritually immature, and I know it is no one's fault but mine. I go through surges of study, but then I have times when I don't carve out the time in my day to do it. I am still confused about grace and forgiveness, but I must admit I understand the concepts much more deeply since I have children of my own.

I know what it means to love no matter what. And I know how it feels to hug a child in forgiveness, no matter what the sin was.

Any time I hear about a death - one of a star in the news, one from an accident on the interstate, or one of a shooting in the rough streets of Birmingham - I stop to think, "Am I really ready?" I can't help but wonder what kind of legacy I would leave behind. I wonder if my kids have learned enough from me, if I have influenced the people around me in a positive way, and if I have shown God's love through my actions. Of course, in so many ways, I would have to answer, "No." I don't think one could ever do enough, and I certainly haven't taken advantage of many opportunities in front of me. Each day I trying harder, but each day I still end up falling short.

I know we all fall short, but some of us fall shorter. So how short is too short? That's what I don't understand. That's what I struggle with each time I hear about an untimely death. And I wonder if I will measure up if I am called too soon.

So that's my struggle. I am still learning. I am still growing. And I know I should never compare my spirituality to other people's, but it's so difficult not to. So I guess I'll keep moving forward, dusting myself off each day and starting fresh. And each day I move a little closer to understanding what this life is all about.

Got cravings?

Wow. I am seriously craving a big, fat, juicy hamburger here lately. Not a flat little fast-food burger. I want a homemade, fresh pattied, ground chuck burger. Grilled on a real grill. Loaded on a fat bun and topped with ketchup, mustard, lettuce, tomato, pickles, and freshly sliced onion. The kind of burger that as you eat, it drips juice onto your plate or your shirt or whatever else might lie underneath.

I am not pregnant, so what's up with the craving? Why do I just get something on my mind sometimes and can't think of anything else until I taste it? When I was pregnant with David, in the beginning, it was grape juice or apple juice. As the pregnancy progressed, it became a multitude of things - mainly spicy things. With Madalyn, it was just starchy carbs - cereal, powdered donuts, cakey snacks.

Right now, however, it's just a big 'ole piece of red meat. It's not incredibly healthy, but I guarantee the hamburger will be on my menu at some point this weekend.

In other on-the-edge-of-your-seat news, what little bit of the castle I got put together, Madalyn tore apart yesterday. David came downstairs to tell me that she had messed it up, and he had this devastating look on his face as if he knew it might not ever get put back together again. Then he commenced to say that, "She messes everything up." Even though I totally agree with him, I didn't do it out loud. If she had been around when he said it, I might have scolded him and told him not to say that about his sister. But since she was nowhere near, I just let him voice his opinion. Cause he's basically right. David can't really do or have anything that she doesn't somehow manage to mess up. But that's just part of having a little sister. And I just want to tell him, "You think sisters are bad? Just wait till you have kids of your own, David."

Okay. Really nothing of great significance to say today. Well, that's pretty much every day. I could spout off about the new philandering politician, but that's been done so many times before. And there's always Jon and Kate, but that's pretty much been resolved. So I'll just continue to obsess about the burger.

550 Pieces

David had a great birthday. We had a tournament this weekend - our state tournament - here in town at the same park where David played tee ball when he was five and six. It was hot, the boys fought hard, and we brought home the first place trophy. Then everyone came here to swim and celebrate his eighth birthday. Of course, he got lots of money and gift cards, and they began to burn a hole in his pocket early yesterday morning.

He's been talking a lot lately about Lego's. How he really wanted a big set of like a city - something he could assemble and then play with. So that's what we set out to find. We first went to Walmart, but he couldn't really find what he was looking for there. So, being the CRAZY SUPER MOM I am, I offered to drive him to Toys 'R Us. Two kids... two stores to look at toys... AGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

This is what we ended up with.

Not exactly a city, but it was on sale for $34.99. I guess I wasn't really aware at just how expensive Lego's and similar sets are. My stars - some of the sets are over $100. I also wasn't aware how many pieces they have. Granted, it gives you the piece count right there on the box, but it's really difficult to fathom 550 pieces until you dump them out on the floor and start to try to form them into a castle. Ummmmm.... I demand a recount!!! I think there are some 2,347 pieces in the set David picked out. And when I say they are tiny pieces, well, I mean they are smaller than the size of an eye booger.

We sat in the floor of his room and started the hundred step process. I think I got to step 14 when I just kinda began to lose it internally. This one part just got the better of me, and I couldn't get it to stay, and I was supposed to put another piece on top of it. Things just started falling off, and I sort of panicked on the inside. Like who is the person that designed this crap? Who in their right mind would break a castle down into fifteen million pieces and package it up in little bags and create a booklet the size of a children's picture book full of instructions to put it together????? Is this meant to be fun, or is it meant to be nothing short of human torture?

Maybe I'll buy several boxes of the King Arthur castles and send them to the local prisons. You know, just to give them something to do.

Dear David,

Wow. Eight years. As an adult now, I know eight years is merely a blip on the radar screen. But when I look at you, it seems like too many years. Has it really been that long since I first saw your squished in little face?

I remember examining you on the night after you were born. I sat alone for a moment in the hospital room, and I unwrapped you from the swaddle that held you tight so I could look at you. Your legs. Your feet and toes. Your little hands. I remember looking at your left hand and thinking, "This is the same finger you will wear your wedding band on one day." My how that little finger has grown - still not up to its full potential, but it's multiplied itself ten times over in these eight years. It's amazing, really, how it all happens - how the human body is programmed to form and continue growing. How each individual begins life virtually the same but end up so completely different. You are no exception, my dear David.

I was terrified of you when you were born. What had I gotten myself into? Could I really pull this whole mama thing off? I still think these thoughts from time to time now some eight years into it. But when I look at you and see how you are so basically innocent and pure, I know that I am doing on okay job. But it helps that you have a heart so big and a zeal for life I have never known before. You certainly make my job look easy.

Oh how I've enjoyed watching you grow from that tiny infant into a little man. You are the most balanced, coordinated little thing I have ever seen. It began at an early age when you learned to walk at nine months and swung your first golf club at twelve months. You've just always been able to do whatever you wanted to do if you put your mind to it. I have had the pleasure of watching you learn to walk, to read, to throw a baseball, and to use a vacuum cleaner.

In so many ways you are just like your mama - cautious, insecure, warm. And then in other ways you are much like your daddy - drawing people into your circle, coordinated, charming. The only thing I hate you didn't get from your daddy is confidence. It's something he has plenty of, and I don't have enough of, so you got completely cheated out of that attribute. But I am working on you because I don't want you to be scared of criticism or judgement - I want you to learn to push through it all and work harder. I want you to be better than me. No matter what, just be better than me. I mean, not that your mama is all that bad or anything, but I often wonder who I would be if I had only had a little confidence and courage earlier in life. But if I had, I might not have had the pleasure of knowing you, my David.

I often wonder what you will be when you grow up. And, honestly, I have no idea. When I open that part of my mind and try to look ahead, I can't picture you as being anything but my little boy. But no matter what direction you take in life, I want you to be a man of tremendous integrity. I want you to be kind and respectful. And really, if in twenty years I can look at you and see those attributes, it won't matter at all if you sit at a desk or cut open the human skull to perform delicate surgery, I'll be honored to call you my son.

I'm sorry I haven't been the best role model for you in these past eight years. I have made a ton of mistakes while parenting you. I have made even more mistakes in other areas of my life. You have heard me yell and seen me lose my temper. I haven't always been the picture of the ideal mother and wife. But I know that you have given me a reason to try harder, and I will continue every day trying harder and harder to be all that you (and your sister) deserve. I hope you know how much I love you. I hope that one day you will look at your own child and understand it in your soul.

I am so grateful to God for giving you to me and your daddy. And I look forward to watching you grow more and more each day.

I love you, David.

~ Your Crazy Mama