Thursday, September 29, 2011
I don’t have a foam finger…a cow bell…an air horn…or a fancy stand up tent…what kind of a MONSTER am I? Hell, I wouldn’t be caught DEAD in a team jersey, let alone ‘bling it out’! Crucify me! I arrive ‘just in time’ to set up my chair under a tree (God, I hope there’s a tree), or bring my pink Victoria’s Secret umbrella to shield myself from the sun, although I am already slathered in 70+ SPF. It’s FOOTBALL DAY…every Saturday!!!!...for my son. GO TEAM! Since the minute he was born I knew he ‘had the build’ for sports. And if he didn’t, well, let’s just say that sports were shoved down his throat from the get go. His great grandfather used to hold him when he was born and say he was ’like a sack of potatoes’. His grandmother would say “oh, those apple cheeks”. His grandfather would say, “oh, what a loaf of bread ya got”. What the hell, who knew my kid was such a smorgasbord (whoa, first try and spelled it right???). I have watched him play soccer. He was #13 and #20. In tee ball he was #25. In flag football he was #7, # 35, #21, #4. In what I like to refer to as ‘why the hell am I letting my kid do this’ football (tackle football) he is #3, #21, and #32. I just learned he is #32. I thought he was # 3. FUCK, I can’t keep track of ALL THIS STUFF! I learned he was #32 because some mother next to me told me. Some other mother, who clearly is a better mother than me. Bedazzling your child’s name onto your shirt makes you a better mother, right? It sounds terrible. Who forgets their child’s number? I can’t help it, I was never good at math. Having a boy who plays sports doesn’t come with an instruction book. I do remember every minute of every day that I have had the pleasure of holding the job title of ‘Parker’s Mother’. One of my favorite quotes says, “Asking me to describe my son is like asking me to hold the ocean in a paper cup”. It’s impossible to say it all and have it hold all that he is to me. He is an incredible person. He came out that way. He is smart. He loves genuinely. He is compassionate about old people, and mentally challenged people, and those that are less fortunate, beyond compare. He is sensitive. He is determined. He is everybody’s friend. He is two inches taller than me! He is, today, 13. So, I glance up from my iPhone at the ‘World’s Best Mom’ next to me at this football game, after I update my Facebook status, of course. The rude shrill of the air horn awakens me and I understand why I don’t decorate myself with his number, or watch every play, or really know what the heck is even going on out on that field. It is because of ALL the numbers that my son was given to identify him to ALL the other people out there that are ‘counting on him’ and ‘watching him’, whether on the field or throughout his life, he has always just been plain old #1 to me…the mother under the pink umbrella…you know, the one on her phone at the top of the hill, under the tree!!!!!
- ▼ 2011 (11)