It's time! Time for what, you may ask?
It's time for Buttercup to become a mommy. She is the first daughter of the first daughter of the first daughter and about to deliver her first daughter. Buttercup is also my niece and goddaughter and going to burst after 9 months of pregnancy. Impending delivery signs include: contractions, sleeplessness, inability to find a comfortable position, and nesting. Oh yeah....some dilation and effacing per her obstetrician. And so, she is ready to go.
Am I ready to become a great aunt? Hmmmm....this does mean that the next generation of the BP is beginning to procreate. This is pretty natural, eh?
I look at myself in the mirror (only for a split second) and wonder when the lines came. Could it be from sitting in the sun watching too many baseball games without sunscreen and a hat? Or could it be that I have passed the midlife number and am on the slide toward the ultimate home plate?
It's probably a combination of both. Warning to Buttercup's baby: Always use sunscreen and moisturizer....some other tips that I would like to share with this child are:
1. Mom is mom...she'll be your mother forever. When she becomes too much to take (as all mothers do), you can call or text Bullpen Auntie....She will be your confidant, mentor, and pal. She'll take you out for an ice cream, to the mall, long walk, or a movie. She loves babies especially someone as special as you....don't hesitate to call, cry, or whine.
2. Your granny (my Big Sis) is really an OK person. She might seem a bit overwhelmed at times, but she has things all under control. Granny is one of the best multitaskers around and will teach you a number of things, like keeping life long friends, making an Easter lamb cake, and hanging in there repeatedly when times are rough. She is the most loyal person you will ever find. Just don't take her for granted.
3. Your poppy has been battling and winning the fight against cancer. This requires guts and determination. Observe how he never gives up. If you absorb this lesson, you will be a winner at life.
4. There will times when you want to run from your problems, but don't. You have a loving family who will support you and walk you through the happy and tough times.
5. Your family loves celebrations and getting together for no reason at all. We will be a constant presence in your life and watch as you grow your first tooth. We have a family tradition, that the person who finds the baby's first tooth has to buy the first pair of shoes. It's a tradition, so smile when I see you. I'll pick up a pair of cleats or tennis sneakers for you.
6. Your uncles and dad are already watching the neighborhood boys. No dating until you are finished with medical school or score your first gold medal in track and field.
7. Your Aunt Scooby will help you to find the best deals on the east coast.
She has a knack of locating items for a fraction of their cost. This is
a talent that takes time and effort to learn. Observe her in action,
you will be impressed.
8. Fruits and vegetables are important nutrients to staying healthy. Don't
become 'carb-hounds' like the rest of our family. A bagel or piece of cake for breakfast
is not the best choice unless the bagel is multigrain and the cake is carrot :-D.
9. Never go to bed unless you have said your prayers and thank God for
your family, friends, health, toys, bed, house, and blessings. BP Grandpop and Grandmom
will teach you the prayers that they taught their children who taught
their children. Tag! You're it! Great Grandmom and Grandpop have been praying for years and we feel it. So will you....
10. Believe it or not, you have been loved before you were even born. We'll be watching and there in a flash when you need someone. Don't worry, we've done this before...so we know the drill. You are new at this life, so enjoy the ride.
There are so many other tips to give this child, but it is time for me to head to physical therapy and see Tank. I need to keep up with this kid, so off I go.
Have a great day and happy labor day to our Buttercup!
Showing posts with label bullpen mom; bullpen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bullpen mom; bullpen. Show all posts
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
Passion: Good or bad?
Good morning! Another overcast day and my flowers are loving the attention from Mother Nature. Actually, the weeds love it too.
As I mentioned yesterday, one of the pitchers threw a no-hitter on Saturday and was featured on the Top Ten Best Plays countdown on ESPN. When he returned to campus early this morning, he tweeted about the airline losing his luggage and his car was towed. So much for a hero's welcome. And this, my friends, is the reason why life is so amazing. One minute we are feeling as high as a kite and the next minute, we are looking for our underwear in an airport terminal.
Which leads me to consider the phenomenon of emotions. Think about it...emotions are what drives us to set goals. We accomplish the aforesaid goals because we need to or are driven to....In other words, the feelings or emotions that we have are the reason why we get out of bed in the morning, put on our pants, make coffee, and walk up the stairs to work.
Let's consider the following: why do I write this blog? The answer is complicated, however, what I can divulge is purely the emotion of satisfaction and the need to set the record straight. Why do I have to be accurate in my stories and descriptions? Well, over the years, I have watched my son be misunderstood and had the need to share the real experiences with the world (or the five people who read this blog). Mostly, I have observed and felt a strong maternal angst as he is snarled at, ridiculed, and criticized by his coaches, team mates, and peers. In other words, it is the emotion of a parent standing by who cannot do more than watch....or can she?
Hence, the tell-all, and oh so accurate blog about the little kid who is now growing up and desperately wants to play big league baseball from his mother's perspective. The next point is why is my son so driven to be the best and play a sport that only a few truly succeed in attaining the highest level of play? I honestly cannot answer it, but my sense is that he has a passion for pitching and the sport. And because of this strong emotional attachment to his craft, he will do anything to achieve this goal. When you look at it from a distance, it may seem a bit over the top, yet when you surround yourself by people who have a passion for something, you can see why they work so hard to actualize their life's work.
It seems that the emotions that they have while playing their sport cannot be eclipsed by anything else in life. The drive to make it is far more powerful than anything else in their life including friendships and school work. To quote California: "Off the field, you are my friend. On the field, I will do anything to take your place in the line up. It is not personal." I believe it. However, this guy can separate competition on and off the field and I wonder if my kid has that capacity right now. He is incredibly emotional which can be a positive and negative. On the one hand, emotions drive behaviors. On the other hand, emotions can halt behaviors. A person can out think and feel themselves out of competition.
For example (another tennis story, sorry)....when I played tennis, I could sense when a person would be tightening up and their fear of losing would take over. They either worked harder or folded like a cheap suit and I was able to pull out a win or lose because I became overly tense. Why is winning so important? Well, as dad puts it: "Winning would not feel so good if losing didn't feel so bad." This time, he is right. The feeling or fear when a person loses can almost be incapacitating. This can be evident in the work place, card game, or baseball diamond. No true competitor likes to lose, but it is a real emotion that one grapples with on a regular basis.
Why would a person want to put themselves out there in the public day after day with their successes and failures publicized? At this point, I am not sure. Perhaps it is the emotion felt when winning. Maybe it is a passion for the sport and a feeling of accomplishment that cannot be achieved any other way. After all, winning at pinocle does not feel the same as winning a tournament or the World Series. And so it goes....I will continue to chronicle the good, bad, and ugly as well as the emotions that accompany a seemingly endless journey of success and failures, ups and downs, highs and lows, and the drive to pursue a personal and long held goal.
Whew...enough said. Time for work....have a great day.
As I mentioned yesterday, one of the pitchers threw a no-hitter on Saturday and was featured on the Top Ten Best Plays countdown on ESPN. When he returned to campus early this morning, he tweeted about the airline losing his luggage and his car was towed. So much for a hero's welcome. And this, my friends, is the reason why life is so amazing. One minute we are feeling as high as a kite and the next minute, we are looking for our underwear in an airport terminal.
Which leads me to consider the phenomenon of emotions. Think about it...emotions are what drives us to set goals. We accomplish the aforesaid goals because we need to or are driven to....In other words, the feelings or emotions that we have are the reason why we get out of bed in the morning, put on our pants, make coffee, and walk up the stairs to work.
Let's consider the following: why do I write this blog? The answer is complicated, however, what I can divulge is purely the emotion of satisfaction and the need to set the record straight. Why do I have to be accurate in my stories and descriptions? Well, over the years, I have watched my son be misunderstood and had the need to share the real experiences with the world (or the five people who read this blog). Mostly, I have observed and felt a strong maternal angst as he is snarled at, ridiculed, and criticized by his coaches, team mates, and peers. In other words, it is the emotion of a parent standing by who cannot do more than watch....or can she?
Hence, the tell-all, and oh so accurate blog about the little kid who is now growing up and desperately wants to play big league baseball from his mother's perspective. The next point is why is my son so driven to be the best and play a sport that only a few truly succeed in attaining the highest level of play? I honestly cannot answer it, but my sense is that he has a passion for pitching and the sport. And because of this strong emotional attachment to his craft, he will do anything to achieve this goal. When you look at it from a distance, it may seem a bit over the top, yet when you surround yourself by people who have a passion for something, you can see why they work so hard to actualize their life's work.
It seems that the emotions that they have while playing their sport cannot be eclipsed by anything else in life. The drive to make it is far more powerful than anything else in their life including friendships and school work. To quote California: "Off the field, you are my friend. On the field, I will do anything to take your place in the line up. It is not personal." I believe it. However, this guy can separate competition on and off the field and I wonder if my kid has that capacity right now. He is incredibly emotional which can be a positive and negative. On the one hand, emotions drive behaviors. On the other hand, emotions can halt behaviors. A person can out think and feel themselves out of competition.
For example (another tennis story, sorry)....when I played tennis, I could sense when a person would be tightening up and their fear of losing would take over. They either worked harder or folded like a cheap suit and I was able to pull out a win or lose because I became overly tense. Why is winning so important? Well, as dad puts it: "Winning would not feel so good if losing didn't feel so bad." This time, he is right. The feeling or fear when a person loses can almost be incapacitating. This can be evident in the work place, card game, or baseball diamond. No true competitor likes to lose, but it is a real emotion that one grapples with on a regular basis.
Why would a person want to put themselves out there in the public day after day with their successes and failures publicized? At this point, I am not sure. Perhaps it is the emotion felt when winning. Maybe it is a passion for the sport and a feeling of accomplishment that cannot be achieved any other way. After all, winning at pinocle does not feel the same as winning a tournament or the World Series. And so it goes....I will continue to chronicle the good, bad, and ugly as well as the emotions that accompany a seemingly endless journey of success and failures, ups and downs, highs and lows, and the drive to pursue a personal and long held goal.
Whew...enough said. Time for work....have a great day.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
A Perfect Prediction
A rainy day in the northeast is matching my mood....bleak....quiet....introverted....
Nah...just kidding. I actually like a soaking rain as I witness what the water does to the flowers. Mother Nature is helping me to water the plants....thank you!
I am sure that you have a question: "How was Chimpanzee, the movie?" It's hard to say...I loved the scenery and learning more about the chimp, but the story about Freddy and Scar seemed a bit contrived, yet the reality of the alpha male adopting a motherless chimpanzee was moving. Just a quick fact....chimpanzees use tools to open their nuts and fruits. This is true. I saw it as Oscar's now departed mother grabbed rocks nuts and slammed the nuts with the rocks to open them, like a jungle nut cracker. She also used a twig to gather termites in a rotted piece of wood, then licked them as a delicacy. Fascinating! Once a colleague returned from African trip and handed out delicacies that she brought home. I had to pass on the dried bugs. Although some of my friends tried them, I decided to immediately start my diet, so I had an excuse.
Were we done celebrating Tink's birthday after the movie and lunch with family? Nope...there was more to come. It was "Tink Weekend" as we took her to see the Phantom of the Opera on Saturday in NY. It's been a few years since I was in the city and felt a bit overwhelmed with the numbers of people, pushing, shoving, long lines, and anonymity. As a person who lives in the suburbs, I was startled by the person who shoved me and told me to 'watch where I was going...' Huh? Me? Watch where I am going? Sista', I was watching where I was going because I was dodging the poo, trash, and gum on the sidewalk. I have to look forward too? Do I need to take a course on Walking in New York City 101? If so, I am staying in suburbia and taking a course in horticulture.
Back to NYC, the Phantom was really good, although I did not sit with Tink and Dad. Why not? Ok, again....typical New York story...we arrived in front of the theater in a great deal of traffic at 1:40 for a 2 pm matinee. The car was not moving, so dad let us out while he parked the car and we stood in a very long line and waited and waited for it to move. By the time we got to the door, there were three doors open with three people taking tickets for hundreds of people. Then they yelled at us that the show was starting....Tink and I found our seats but decided a restroom break was in order first, so we waited in another line. When we finally got into the bathroom, there were three stalls (seems three is the lucky number at this theater)...more waiting...show is starting....we run up the stairs and the usher flashes a light on our tickets and curses (NY?). Telling us to stand in the shadows until a scenery change, we waited and then we had one minute to take our seats in the middle of the row. The girl on the end refused to move her purse on the floor so we had to jump over it to move to the next seat...as the man finally stood, he yelled at me that there was only one seat so I could not enter the row. Huh? I have a ticket! So, the potty mouth and cranky usher took me back up the steps and I found an empty seat in the back row and watched the show by myself (which was fine). At intermission, I saw there was indeed a seat next to dad but the patrons on the end of the row only had patience to let Tink through and barred me with a series of pocketbooks and backpacks from finding my paid for seat.
On another note, dad was able to find parking, walk to the theater, hit the restroom and was seated before the show started. What is wrong with this story? Oh, yeah...while he was looking for a parking garage that was going to steal a great deal of money from our bank account, a woman stood in the middle of 44th street on the telephone. She looked at dad and said: "If you hit me, you are going to pay." 'Nuff said...only in New York does parking cost more than a theater ticket and you really do not need to go to Broadway to see a show. New York is pretty much a mini series itself.
How is the big kid doing? Is salty a good description? Last night as we traveled the turnpike to return to the 'burbs...ahhh...he called to report the starting pitcher had thrown a no hitter against a division rival in the Midwest. Rather than be totally thrilled for his friend, he was miffed. "I wasn't there"....OK, I get that. You want to experience these things with the guys. I completely understand it, but please express some kind of congratulations for the guy and team. My goodness, this is huge. Still salty, he predicted in no uncertain terms that he is going to throw a perfect game. Mark the date and time. This is his plan and he will do it and work harder than ever. Then he said that he was happy for the guy, had already sent a congratulatory text, but felt left out.
You know what? He was left out. The team was in another state and he was left out of the travel, games, dug out, and celebration. As a competitor on a team, he was blue and I understand his mood from an athlete's and mother's perspective. However, things like this happen when a person has surgery and rehabs throughout a season. The point is not to be despondent but determined to succeed. He has the physical tools, now he needs to focus on his mental toughness.
And so it goes. There are ups and downs on the road to a perfect game and if the kid says that he is going to do it, then I believe it. Yet, there will be days when he doubts his abilities but I lost those doubts long ago. With determination and preparation and sacrifice, a person can accomplish anything....really...believe....actually...believing is part of the process too.
Got to go...I believe that I need to spend time in the gym to work off the pre- and post- operative weight that I have gained. My tight pants are screaming at me to get going....so, off I go!
Enjoy!
Nah...just kidding. I actually like a soaking rain as I witness what the water does to the flowers. Mother Nature is helping me to water the plants....thank you!
I am sure that you have a question: "How was Chimpanzee, the movie?" It's hard to say...I loved the scenery and learning more about the chimp, but the story about Freddy and Scar seemed a bit contrived, yet the reality of the alpha male adopting a motherless chimpanzee was moving. Just a quick fact....chimpanzees use tools to open their nuts and fruits. This is true. I saw it as Oscar's now departed mother grabbed rocks nuts and slammed the nuts with the rocks to open them, like a jungle nut cracker. She also used a twig to gather termites in a rotted piece of wood, then licked them as a delicacy. Fascinating! Once a colleague returned from African trip and handed out delicacies that she brought home. I had to pass on the dried bugs. Although some of my friends tried them, I decided to immediately start my diet, so I had an excuse.
Were we done celebrating Tink's birthday after the movie and lunch with family? Nope...there was more to come. It was "Tink Weekend" as we took her to see the Phantom of the Opera on Saturday in NY. It's been a few years since I was in the city and felt a bit overwhelmed with the numbers of people, pushing, shoving, long lines, and anonymity. As a person who lives in the suburbs, I was startled by the person who shoved me and told me to 'watch where I was going...' Huh? Me? Watch where I am going? Sista', I was watching where I was going because I was dodging the poo, trash, and gum on the sidewalk. I have to look forward too? Do I need to take a course on Walking in New York City 101? If so, I am staying in suburbia and taking a course in horticulture.
Back to NYC, the Phantom was really good, although I did not sit with Tink and Dad. Why not? Ok, again....typical New York story...we arrived in front of the theater in a great deal of traffic at 1:40 for a 2 pm matinee. The car was not moving, so dad let us out while he parked the car and we stood in a very long line and waited and waited for it to move. By the time we got to the door, there were three doors open with three people taking tickets for hundreds of people. Then they yelled at us that the show was starting....Tink and I found our seats but decided a restroom break was in order first, so we waited in another line. When we finally got into the bathroom, there were three stalls (seems three is the lucky number at this theater)...more waiting...show is starting....we run up the stairs and the usher flashes a light on our tickets and curses (NY?). Telling us to stand in the shadows until a scenery change, we waited and then we had one minute to take our seats in the middle of the row. The girl on the end refused to move her purse on the floor so we had to jump over it to move to the next seat...as the man finally stood, he yelled at me that there was only one seat so I could not enter the row. Huh? I have a ticket! So, the potty mouth and cranky usher took me back up the steps and I found an empty seat in the back row and watched the show by myself (which was fine). At intermission, I saw there was indeed a seat next to dad but the patrons on the end of the row only had patience to let Tink through and barred me with a series of pocketbooks and backpacks from finding my paid for seat.
On another note, dad was able to find parking, walk to the theater, hit the restroom and was seated before the show started. What is wrong with this story? Oh, yeah...while he was looking for a parking garage that was going to steal a great deal of money from our bank account, a woman stood in the middle of 44th street on the telephone. She looked at dad and said: "If you hit me, you are going to pay." 'Nuff said...only in New York does parking cost more than a theater ticket and you really do not need to go to Broadway to see a show. New York is pretty much a mini series itself.
How is the big kid doing? Is salty a good description? Last night as we traveled the turnpike to return to the 'burbs...ahhh...he called to report the starting pitcher had thrown a no hitter against a division rival in the Midwest. Rather than be totally thrilled for his friend, he was miffed. "I wasn't there"....OK, I get that. You want to experience these things with the guys. I completely understand it, but please express some kind of congratulations for the guy and team. My goodness, this is huge. Still salty, he predicted in no uncertain terms that he is going to throw a perfect game. Mark the date and time. This is his plan and he will do it and work harder than ever. Then he said that he was happy for the guy, had already sent a congratulatory text, but felt left out.
You know what? He was left out. The team was in another state and he was left out of the travel, games, dug out, and celebration. As a competitor on a team, he was blue and I understand his mood from an athlete's and mother's perspective. However, things like this happen when a person has surgery and rehabs throughout a season. The point is not to be despondent but determined to succeed. He has the physical tools, now he needs to focus on his mental toughness.
And so it goes. There are ups and downs on the road to a perfect game and if the kid says that he is going to do it, then I believe it. Yet, there will be days when he doubts his abilities but I lost those doubts long ago. With determination and preparation and sacrifice, a person can accomplish anything....really...believe....actually...believing is part of the process too.
Got to go...I believe that I need to spend time in the gym to work off the pre- and post- operative weight that I have gained. My tight pants are screaming at me to get going....so, off I go!
Enjoy!
Friday, April 20, 2012
Tink!
Good morning! Happy birthday to the sweetest person in the world:Tink! Tink is my heart and conscience. She is my traveling companion and loves to run to DQ for me for a blizzard or dilly bar. This kid is a person with a big heart and kind soul. There is no one like her in the world, and I am blessed to be her mom. She never complains when we hit the road and travel to see her brother. In fact, she looks forward to the road trips and is a great companion. Tink made me a mom, and my life changed when she entered it. Tink: I love you, baby!
To celebrate her big day, Buttercup, BP Grandmom and Grandpop and I are going to see Chimpanzee! Ok, it took some coaxing to get them to agree to go to this movie...yes, I am buying the tickets....yes, I am buying them lunch....so, they immediately said: "sure! We'll go!" And yes, I know that we are seeing a movie that I want to see, BUT they will like it. I know that they will...I can tell. I know these things. Besides, the length of the movie is an hour and 18 minutes. If someone goes to the bathroom, it will be over by the time that they return to their seats.
What else is going on in the world of BP mom? Well, the big kid is cramming for his finals and it seems that he will finish the first week in May. Consequently, there will be a road trip through the mountains to pick him up. However, before he puts anything into my car, it must be cleaned and disinfected. Last year, Tink developed a sinus infection while she sat next to his gear. No more of that....I will hand him a dust rag and some water. The answer to the next question is: "Yes". Yes, he will moan and complain and not see the big deal. After all, his clothes and gear were fine on the floor of his apartment and bathroom for all of these months, BUT I don't want them in the car or house. In fact, I will drop him off at the laundry mat to have them washed before even a tee shirt crosses the threshold. Am I a germphobe or smart? You tell me....
It will take some time to get accustomed to having both kids in the house for a prolonged period of time. Buddy always talks to his dad to bet on the date when I hit the roof after he does something crazy like leave the refrigerator door open all night as the food spoils or falls asleep on the sofa with chocolate ice cream on his lap that drops to the floor when he turns on his side.....or watches the dog use the house as her personal bathroom because he did not see the need to take her out after 8 hours....or leave no gas in the car when I am late for work.....or ask 900 times what's for dinner? Then he decides to meet the boys at Moes rather than eating my food.....or.....ahhh, there's too much to enumerate. I'll just celebrate my family being intact and our times together. It will be a joy to have him back so that I can text him from the kitchen that dinner is ready once again.
Have a great day!
To celebrate her big day, Buttercup, BP Grandmom and Grandpop and I are going to see Chimpanzee! Ok, it took some coaxing to get them to agree to go to this movie...yes, I am buying the tickets....yes, I am buying them lunch....so, they immediately said: "sure! We'll go!" And yes, I know that we are seeing a movie that I want to see, BUT they will like it. I know that they will...I can tell. I know these things. Besides, the length of the movie is an hour and 18 minutes. If someone goes to the bathroom, it will be over by the time that they return to their seats.
What else is going on in the world of BP mom? Well, the big kid is cramming for his finals and it seems that he will finish the first week in May. Consequently, there will be a road trip through the mountains to pick him up. However, before he puts anything into my car, it must be cleaned and disinfected. Last year, Tink developed a sinus infection while she sat next to his gear. No more of that....I will hand him a dust rag and some water. The answer to the next question is: "Yes". Yes, he will moan and complain and not see the big deal. After all, his clothes and gear were fine on the floor of his apartment and bathroom for all of these months, BUT I don't want them in the car or house. In fact, I will drop him off at the laundry mat to have them washed before even a tee shirt crosses the threshold. Am I a germphobe or smart? You tell me....
It will take some time to get accustomed to having both kids in the house for a prolonged period of time. Buddy always talks to his dad to bet on the date when I hit the roof after he does something crazy like leave the refrigerator door open all night as the food spoils or falls asleep on the sofa with chocolate ice cream on his lap that drops to the floor when he turns on his side.....or watches the dog use the house as her personal bathroom because he did not see the need to take her out after 8 hours....or leave no gas in the car when I am late for work.....or ask 900 times what's for dinner? Then he decides to meet the boys at Moes rather than eating my food.....or.....ahhh, there's too much to enumerate. I'll just celebrate my family being intact and our times together. It will be a joy to have him back so that I can text him from the kitchen that dinner is ready once again.
Have a great day!
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Five minutes
God morning! I am on the run today since I have physical (not mental) therapy in 20 minutes. And after pt, I am headed to the Baker's bakery to fill matzo crunch orders. What is matzo crunch? I don't know...never saw one or ate one, but I will be filling the orders today.
The bakery's busiest seasons are Easter, Christmas, and May. It gets so crazy with orders, that they fill a large truck in the front of the bakery with the orders and people pick them up from the truck and not in the store. it is amazing. Last night Sparky and the Baker did not get home until 3 am and they started again this morning filling the abundance of orders.
So, how do I feel about not getting a job at Starbucks in Ohio BUT asked to help out at the bakery? Pretty darn good! Starbucks can drop in the ocean for all I care....ooppps. I did not mean to say that 'cause I have to stop there before I start my matzo shift. Sorry...sometimes I get a little cranky that I was not even granted an interview let alone offered a job.
And so, off I go....have a great day.
The bakery's busiest seasons are Easter, Christmas, and May. It gets so crazy with orders, that they fill a large truck in the front of the bakery with the orders and people pick them up from the truck and not in the store. it is amazing. Last night Sparky and the Baker did not get home until 3 am and they started again this morning filling the abundance of orders.
So, how do I feel about not getting a job at Starbucks in Ohio BUT asked to help out at the bakery? Pretty darn good! Starbucks can drop in the ocean for all I care....ooppps. I did not mean to say that 'cause I have to stop there before I start my matzo shift. Sorry...sometimes I get a little cranky that I was not even granted an interview let alone offered a job.
And so, off I go....have a great day.
Monday, March 26, 2012
A drunken mistake or eight
Tink just left for work. She has been working with an elderly woman who needs a companion during the day while her daughters work. The woman is lovely and has been using Tink to clean out her house. Slowly, the contents of the lady's home has been coming into mine. This weekend, Tink turned down the family flask that the woman wanted her to own. She did not think that her grand daughter would want it and wanted to give it to someone special. Thankfully, Tink said 'no' to the gift.
On another note, Bullpen Grandpop is having his pacemaker battery changed in surgery today. That makes three family surgeries in one week. I believe that we are keeping the medical field busy with our knicks, dings, and breaks. According to my niece, Buttercup, BP Grandpop is coming home this afternoon and does not have to stay in the hospital overnight.
How is our pitcher doing? Oy! Ups and downs....downs and ups. Yesterday, they lost a very close conference game that they should have won. Why? Well, according to the big leftie, most of the team was partying on Saturday night and either showed up late for the game or hung over. He's furious with his team mates and the coaches are beside themselves.
What are they thinking? The majority want to play in the major leagues, but you need to get enough sleep, eat right, and not show up to the field inebriated! Theses are the basic concepts when it comes to playing on a team, especially division 1. I am deeply disappointed in these guys and am astounded that they would put the team in peril like this. Does one beer or ten really taste that good? Is the feeling of falling over drunk more important than the team and team mates? What the heck!
Well, it is the coaches responsibility to figure out what to do. I have my own theory based on my experiences coaching, but none of my players showed up drunk. They would have petty problems with one another or be haughty, but that's it. They were usually on time and we actually went to the nationals for a tournament. Are my girl tennis players more committed than these knuckle-headed baseball players? Perhaps...perhaps....They know that a beer or eight can add inches to the waistlines so they were much more careful.
OK, time for me to hobble to work. I have a meeting later and it takes me twice as long to get ready as it did last week. Have a great day!
On another note, Bullpen Grandpop is having his pacemaker battery changed in surgery today. That makes three family surgeries in one week. I believe that we are keeping the medical field busy with our knicks, dings, and breaks. According to my niece, Buttercup, BP Grandpop is coming home this afternoon and does not have to stay in the hospital overnight.
How is our pitcher doing? Oy! Ups and downs....downs and ups. Yesterday, they lost a very close conference game that they should have won. Why? Well, according to the big leftie, most of the team was partying on Saturday night and either showed up late for the game or hung over. He's furious with his team mates and the coaches are beside themselves.
What are they thinking? The majority want to play in the major leagues, but you need to get enough sleep, eat right, and not show up to the field inebriated! Theses are the basic concepts when it comes to playing on a team, especially division 1. I am deeply disappointed in these guys and am astounded that they would put the team in peril like this. Does one beer or ten really taste that good? Is the feeling of falling over drunk more important than the team and team mates? What the heck!
Well, it is the coaches responsibility to figure out what to do. I have my own theory based on my experiences coaching, but none of my players showed up drunk. They would have petty problems with one another or be haughty, but that's it. They were usually on time and we actually went to the nationals for a tournament. Are my girl tennis players more committed than these knuckle-headed baseball players? Perhaps...perhaps....They know that a beer or eight can add inches to the waistlines so they were much more careful.
OK, time for me to hobble to work. I have a meeting later and it takes me twice as long to get ready as it did last week. Have a great day!
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
it ain't over til the fat lady sings
Guess what? I am not singing...what does that mean? Well, Florida was NOT a bust, but we have to continue on our convoluted road until we have a final answer which should be tomorrow afternoon.
Ready for another crazy story? Here it comes....
Sunday, the big kid and I left for Pensacola and arrived in the evening. Not being able to see scenery, I was not sure where I was, but we figured that we were staying right on the beach. There is no boardwalk or bright lights, we could hear waves, which was pretty cool. Otherwise, we were clueless.
The next morning arrived quickly as we left early for our appointment. We got there at 8:30 am and knew that we were being squeezed in. After the kid went to x-ray, we figured that we would be out of there around noon and could look around the city. Wrong!
After seeing the fellow for a physical and explanation of our road to that point, we did not see the doctor of all doctors until noon. I figured that he would come in with attitude and entourage based on his profile in Sports Illustrated and online. Again, I was wrong. he entered the room with his fellow and introduced himself by looking at us in the eye and shaking our hands. This was already different from what we had previously experienced. As he performed a more in depth assessment than his fellow, he sat down (yes, he sat down) with us and had a 45 minute conversation.
I had to take deep breaths to keep from fainting (I was tired, hungry, and stressed out...not a good combination). That would not have been a good thing. Here is the rock star of all surgeons...the Mick Jagger...Keith Richards....Bruce Springsteen....a Navy Seal....perhaps our hero...I don't know. It was a crazy experience. So Mick, sat next to me and asked me what I did for a living...me, really? You want to know about me? really? OK, I uh...hmmm..teach...Then he asked what courses I taught...again...hmm..uh....leadership...computers...scholarly writing...."Oh, that's nice" he says. Nice...uh huh...
OK, back to the shoulder. He read the report from doctor number 2 and looked at the MRI. They concurred that the imaging was not very good, so they sent him to the ground floor for another MRI. In the meantime, it was 1pm, so I ran to the cafeteria that was opened until 2 pm to get a sandwich for the kid. As I entered the cafeteria, the sign on the door read: "No photos or autographs allowed." Huh? Am I taking a photo of the wait staff? I wouldn't know a star athlete or celebrity if they jumped on top of me and yelled: "I'm famous!" Although, I did recognize Donald Trump in Atlantic City once. That was it as far as celebrity sightings...oh yeah, and once I saw Juan Epstein from Welcome Back Kotter walking on the sidewalk in California.
I grabbed some fish tacos and waited and waited...he was no where to be seen, so I sat and ate the most amazing fish tacos ever....here in a medical center's cafeteria....I highly recommend the fish tacos. After the MRI, the big kid was not happy that I ate both tacos, but I actually saved him from having to bite into a cold taco. He would not have liked it ;-)
OK, MRI, x-ray, assessment findings are done. We are back in the office, sit in an exam room and wait another two hours. My laptop and his iPod Touch are now on one bar. The magazines are from the year 2010, and we are stuck in a little room with Hope Solo and Cam Newtown's jerseys and autographs. Mick Jagger comes back into the room and takes us to the computer with the biggest screen I have ever seen. He grabs the computer mouse and guides us through the images..."Here is the shoulder, labrum, rotator cuff....blah blah blah blah....damage....not as bad as Dr Number 3 says, bad enough...." What did I hear? Here it goes:
1. There is damage to the rotator cuff. The fact that he continued to throw since the initial damage in October exacerbated the damage (Strike 1 against the university doctors)
2. There is damage to the labrum which probably occurred after the initial damage (strike two university doctors)
3. Slight tendonitis (ball one university doctors)
4. First MRI misread by university doctors (strike three, you're out!)
In other words, this is a serious problem. OK, what to do?
As Mick read Doctor Two's impressions, he was also perplexed that he did not mention the torn rotator cuff as the report read: "no damage to labrum or rotator cuff." OK, now what?
Mick decided that if Doctor Two had an idea or new surgery that could be "99.9999% effective" as he had claimed, then he did not want to do anything because he could not guarantee these figures. But Number Two did not see or acknowledge the rotator cuff and labrum (even I saw the damage). Now what?
Mick decided that he wanted what was best for the big kid and wanted us to go home and see Number Two again. Then he would have a conversation with Number Two (whom he respects) and will decide the best course of events. If Number Two can guarantee this success then Buddy should go to him. if not after seeing the new MRI, then Buddy can decide who to go with....following me?
Mick then gave to me his cell phone number (again) and told me to call him after we met with Number Two. My thought is that we call him together as a conference call, then decide what to do.
What are we left with? I am scratching my head in wonder. Buddy is happy with Mick (me too). Number Two has a major ego. And Number Three is now a non-issue and has been forgiven by me since he got us in to see Mick.
We are back home today and will see Number Two as a family tomorrow. I already left a message with Mick's assistant and told him that we would call late Thursday afternoon. Where am I now? I am settled and breathing and standing upright. It has been an interesting road and the journey is far from over. Before we left the medical center, Buddy went to physical therapy to learn exercises that would strengthen his muscles around the rotator cuff without any more damage. Right now, he is preparing to go back to the gym and continue his rehab.
This kid is going to do whatever he has to do to get back to baseball. The team is struggling mightily without him which has increased his value significantly. They are not losing by one or two games, they are losing by three or four. In other words, they are being spanked by the competition. All my son can do is watch the fall out on the computer and scream. "I want to be there!" OK, pal, the journey is far from over. The hard work is just beginning. Here is my final question: "Is all of this worth it?"
Ready for another crazy story? Here it comes....
Sunday, the big kid and I left for Pensacola and arrived in the evening. Not being able to see scenery, I was not sure where I was, but we figured that we were staying right on the beach. There is no boardwalk or bright lights, we could hear waves, which was pretty cool. Otherwise, we were clueless.
The next morning arrived quickly as we left early for our appointment. We got there at 8:30 am and knew that we were being squeezed in. After the kid went to x-ray, we figured that we would be out of there around noon and could look around the city. Wrong!
After seeing the fellow for a physical and explanation of our road to that point, we did not see the doctor of all doctors until noon. I figured that he would come in with attitude and entourage based on his profile in Sports Illustrated and online. Again, I was wrong. he entered the room with his fellow and introduced himself by looking at us in the eye and shaking our hands. This was already different from what we had previously experienced. As he performed a more in depth assessment than his fellow, he sat down (yes, he sat down) with us and had a 45 minute conversation.
I had to take deep breaths to keep from fainting (I was tired, hungry, and stressed out...not a good combination). That would not have been a good thing. Here is the rock star of all surgeons...the Mick Jagger...Keith Richards....Bruce Springsteen....a Navy Seal....perhaps our hero...I don't know. It was a crazy experience. So Mick, sat next to me and asked me what I did for a living...me, really? You want to know about me? really? OK, I uh...hmmm..teach...Then he asked what courses I taught...again...hmm..uh....leadership...computers...scholarly writing...."Oh, that's nice" he says. Nice...uh huh...
OK, back to the shoulder. He read the report from doctor number 2 and looked at the MRI. They concurred that the imaging was not very good, so they sent him to the ground floor for another MRI. In the meantime, it was 1pm, so I ran to the cafeteria that was opened until 2 pm to get a sandwich for the kid. As I entered the cafeteria, the sign on the door read: "No photos or autographs allowed." Huh? Am I taking a photo of the wait staff? I wouldn't know a star athlete or celebrity if they jumped on top of me and yelled: "I'm famous!" Although, I did recognize Donald Trump in Atlantic City once. That was it as far as celebrity sightings...oh yeah, and once I saw Juan Epstein from Welcome Back Kotter walking on the sidewalk in California.
I grabbed some fish tacos and waited and waited...he was no where to be seen, so I sat and ate the most amazing fish tacos ever....here in a medical center's cafeteria....I highly recommend the fish tacos. After the MRI, the big kid was not happy that I ate both tacos, but I actually saved him from having to bite into a cold taco. He would not have liked it ;-)
OK, MRI, x-ray, assessment findings are done. We are back in the office, sit in an exam room and wait another two hours. My laptop and his iPod Touch are now on one bar. The magazines are from the year 2010, and we are stuck in a little room with Hope Solo and Cam Newtown's jerseys and autographs. Mick Jagger comes back into the room and takes us to the computer with the biggest screen I have ever seen. He grabs the computer mouse and guides us through the images..."Here is the shoulder, labrum, rotator cuff....blah blah blah blah....damage....not as bad as Dr Number 3 says, bad enough...." What did I hear? Here it goes:
1. There is damage to the rotator cuff. The fact that he continued to throw since the initial damage in October exacerbated the damage (Strike 1 against the university doctors)
2. There is damage to the labrum which probably occurred after the initial damage (strike two university doctors)
3. Slight tendonitis (ball one university doctors)
4. First MRI misread by university doctors (strike three, you're out!)
In other words, this is a serious problem. OK, what to do?
As Mick read Doctor Two's impressions, he was also perplexed that he did not mention the torn rotator cuff as the report read: "no damage to labrum or rotator cuff." OK, now what?
Mick decided that if Doctor Two had an idea or new surgery that could be "99.9999% effective" as he had claimed, then he did not want to do anything because he could not guarantee these figures. But Number Two did not see or acknowledge the rotator cuff and labrum (even I saw the damage). Now what?
Mick decided that he wanted what was best for the big kid and wanted us to go home and see Number Two again. Then he would have a conversation with Number Two (whom he respects) and will decide the best course of events. If Number Two can guarantee this success then Buddy should go to him. if not after seeing the new MRI, then Buddy can decide who to go with....following me?
Mick then gave to me his cell phone number (again) and told me to call him after we met with Number Two. My thought is that we call him together as a conference call, then decide what to do.
What are we left with? I am scratching my head in wonder. Buddy is happy with Mick (me too). Number Two has a major ego. And Number Three is now a non-issue and has been forgiven by me since he got us in to see Mick.
We are back home today and will see Number Two as a family tomorrow. I already left a message with Mick's assistant and told him that we would call late Thursday afternoon. Where am I now? I am settled and breathing and standing upright. It has been an interesting road and the journey is far from over. Before we left the medical center, Buddy went to physical therapy to learn exercises that would strengthen his muscles around the rotator cuff without any more damage. Right now, he is preparing to go back to the gym and continue his rehab.
This kid is going to do whatever he has to do to get back to baseball. The team is struggling mightily without him which has increased his value significantly. They are not losing by one or two games, they are losing by three or four. In other words, they are being spanked by the competition. All my son can do is watch the fall out on the computer and scream. "I want to be there!" OK, pal, the journey is far from over. The hard work is just beginning. Here is my final question: "Is all of this worth it?"
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
And so it begins....
It's the day before we leave for Florida and once again, we are never in a good position. Last year, we did not know that the big kid was going on the trip until the day before they left. Today, we know that he will be there but his shoulder's health is in question. Last night he called the house after I passed out but dad answered the phone. From my recumbent position, I could hear: "It still hurts? A burning pain? What about the long toss? it hurts too? We need another opinion. Who is not going on the Florida trip? That's nasty!
OK, I was not totally asleep, but I could decode out the following information:
1. someone unexpected has been told to stay home and will not fly to Florida (ouch)
2. the shoulder is still painful
3. he is not throwing accurately or with strength
4. he is nervous about the impending future
5. the college doctors have not created a decent plan for healing the shoulder
6. it's time to head to Fatima or Lourdes and go for a miracle healing.
My impression is as always a bit of home spun remedies as well as state of the art medicine. First, he needs to rest it. He is no longer eligible for a medical red shirt which means that he sits out for the season without losing eligibility. So, we move to plan B, which is to hit the internet and library and check out alternative therapies. I will do some research and check out the balms, tree roots, or flower petals to see if anything combined with conventional therapies would minimize the inflammation and of course is approved by the NCAA. Perhaps we have overlooked something small that would be of great value.
I remember when Chase Utley had tendonitis. It took months of therapy for it to heal. But once it healed, he was 100%. Poor Buddy is not a professional and is always fighting for a spot and chance to prove himself. The ego can be fragile and he needs to pitch to boost it. From what I understand tendonitis can take longer to heal than a broken bone.
And so, we are off to Florida where I will help with therapy...not the physical kind, but work on his head. Last year, we went on the trip and he pitched to one guy. Hopefully he can pitch to two guys this year. Naturally, I will have the camera in my hand and my lucky sneakers on my feet. Let's go team!
OK, I was not totally asleep, but I could decode out the following information:
1. someone unexpected has been told to stay home and will not fly to Florida (ouch)
2. the shoulder is still painful
3. he is not throwing accurately or with strength
4. he is nervous about the impending future
5. the college doctors have not created a decent plan for healing the shoulder
6. it's time to head to Fatima or Lourdes and go for a miracle healing.
My impression is as always a bit of home spun remedies as well as state of the art medicine. First, he needs to rest it. He is no longer eligible for a medical red shirt which means that he sits out for the season without losing eligibility. So, we move to plan B, which is to hit the internet and library and check out alternative therapies. I will do some research and check out the balms, tree roots, or flower petals to see if anything combined with conventional therapies would minimize the inflammation and of course is approved by the NCAA. Perhaps we have overlooked something small that would be of great value.
I remember when Chase Utley had tendonitis. It took months of therapy for it to heal. But once it healed, he was 100%. Poor Buddy is not a professional and is always fighting for a spot and chance to prove himself. The ego can be fragile and he needs to pitch to boost it. From what I understand tendonitis can take longer to heal than a broken bone.
And so, we are off to Florida where I will help with therapy...not the physical kind, but work on his head. Last year, we went on the trip and he pitched to one guy. Hopefully he can pitch to two guys this year. Naturally, I will have the camera in my hand and my lucky sneakers on my feet. Let's go team!
Monday, January 2, 2012
Healing touch
Good morning....After two weeks of down time (sort of), I am returning to work this morning, so I have to keep this short. This morning Buddy almost beat me as the first one out of bed in the house. As he dragged himself out of his room, he mentioned that he has the following agenda: get a fresh bagel, throw, cardio, and weights. After he finishes, we are headed to a hockey game as a family.
However, yesterday, Tink, Buddy and I went to the Y to work out. He was going to work on conditioning, and Tink and I were going to class. As I was walking into the aerobics room, I saw a good friend whom I have known since my son was in elementary school. Her youngest boys were athletes with Buddy and we bonded over football games. As I got to know her better, I hired her at the university and we have been friends and colleagues for years. She is a wonderful person and will do anything for anyone. In fact, she was instrumental in working with me to develop the research on health care of the homeless and indigent. Our research is now part of a collaborative effort in several states.
So, where am I going with this train of thought? R, my friend and colleague, has been trained in Healing Touch. For those of you who do not know what HT is, HT is an energy therapy designed to relax and invigorate individuals. I have never been one to believe in energy therapies, but there is some evidence that it is effective. Now, HT is not miraculous like the miracles in the Bible. It is simply works with the body's natural healing process to support the body's ability to heal itself. After all, we have been designed with killer T cells and antibodies that can facilitate this process. Further, HT allegedly promotes relaxation, stress reduction, pain reduction and so on.
As I stood by the treadmills chatting with R, I realized that she may have the answer for Buddy's arm pain, so I asked her to perform some HT on his shoulder. At first, I thought that he would not want any part of it, but he was eager to try it. As she performed HT, he claimed to have felt 'heat' in the shoulder area. She continued for a few more minutes and had to go. She then asked him if he would like an extended treatment later in the week. Again, he agreed which I thought was interesting....
After the work outs, I handed him the keys to the car. Driving home he got very excited: "Mom, I don't feel that twinge in my shoulder for the first time in months..." Hmmmm...really? That fast? Is this possible? R, the miracle worker, yes? no? Wow! Sign me up for a few of these classes. I can hang my shingle up in the cul de sac and offer HT for the overstressed mothers in the neighborhood. The possibilities are endless.
With that said, I will let you know how the extended session goes later this week. He is eager, she has the knowledge and skills...maybe, just maybe, he can return to school renewed and invigorated....who needs the expensive therapies and medications....all we need are a few therapies that tap into our personal healing abilities...the body is truly amazing. It is time to let it do the work and eliminate some of the extraneous therapies that have yet to be effective.
However, yesterday, Tink, Buddy and I went to the Y to work out. He was going to work on conditioning, and Tink and I were going to class. As I was walking into the aerobics room, I saw a good friend whom I have known since my son was in elementary school. Her youngest boys were athletes with Buddy and we bonded over football games. As I got to know her better, I hired her at the university and we have been friends and colleagues for years. She is a wonderful person and will do anything for anyone. In fact, she was instrumental in working with me to develop the research on health care of the homeless and indigent. Our research is now part of a collaborative effort in several states.
So, where am I going with this train of thought? R, my friend and colleague, has been trained in Healing Touch. For those of you who do not know what HT is, HT is an energy therapy designed to relax and invigorate individuals. I have never been one to believe in energy therapies, but there is some evidence that it is effective. Now, HT is not miraculous like the miracles in the Bible. It is simply works with the body's natural healing process to support the body's ability to heal itself. After all, we have been designed with killer T cells and antibodies that can facilitate this process. Further, HT allegedly promotes relaxation, stress reduction, pain reduction and so on.
As I stood by the treadmills chatting with R, I realized that she may have the answer for Buddy's arm pain, so I asked her to perform some HT on his shoulder. At first, I thought that he would not want any part of it, but he was eager to try it. As she performed HT, he claimed to have felt 'heat' in the shoulder area. She continued for a few more minutes and had to go. She then asked him if he would like an extended treatment later in the week. Again, he agreed which I thought was interesting....
After the work outs, I handed him the keys to the car. Driving home he got very excited: "Mom, I don't feel that twinge in my shoulder for the first time in months..." Hmmmm...really? That fast? Is this possible? R, the miracle worker, yes? no? Wow! Sign me up for a few of these classes. I can hang my shingle up in the cul de sac and offer HT for the overstressed mothers in the neighborhood. The possibilities are endless.
With that said, I will let you know how the extended session goes later this week. He is eager, she has the knowledge and skills...maybe, just maybe, he can return to school renewed and invigorated....who needs the expensive therapies and medications....all we need are a few therapies that tap into our personal healing abilities...the body is truly amazing. It is time to let it do the work and eliminate some of the extraneous therapies that have yet to be effective.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Highs, Lows, and Resolutions
New Year's Day is on its way. Time is going by so fast. When I was a kid, I could not wait to be 13 'cause I believed that life began in high school. Then I wanted to drive, graduate high school and go to college. I accomplished these goals and more over the years. Now, I want time to slow down a bit. It's time to sit back and relax and reflect on the year...the highs and the lows....lows....lows...
There were so many highs in 2011. I started this blog to set the record straight about Buddy and his climb in baseball. Boy, were there highs and lows over these years. Recalling the years of development and what he had to do to be noticed by a division I school made me realize that he is a bit of a hero. I think that a hero is an ordinary person who does extraordinary things. In my mind, he never gave up...verbally, he may have sounded off a few "I quits" and expletives but the negative comments and shots that he took especially from his peers made him stronger. He is a different person than he was in high school as he is more determined than ever to succeed. I wish him the best as I continue to support him while sitting in the stands and by the telephone. He knows that he can count on BP mom to stand in his corner and be his 'wing man' should he need one.
Then there is Tink...Tink who has taken a back seat on her brother's journeys. She, too is a hero, as she works diligently toward her goal of being a preschool teacher. Starting college, she studies more than Buddy and I have combined. Dad did not need to study, 'cause he is blessed with a great memory and common sense. The rest of us have the challenge of trying to focus on our tasks and retain some knowledge for testing and passing courses. Yet, Tink works furiously as she sits in a corner of the house (there are at least 4 desks that she can work from, but she prefers the corner of the living room) and tries to figure out college math. Sadly, I am not the person to help her through this journey, since I am pretty sure that the calculator was invented for numbskulls like me. Tink gets a high five from me and a high paw from Diva Dog.
Some of the 2011 lows include Buddy's hair raising line drive to the face in which I saw his and my lives flash before my eyes. I do believe that his guardian angel deflected that ball, 'cause it was headed for disaster. The fact that he was able to move let alone stand up after the hit was a miracle. Amen....
Another low has been the living situation with LW. Oy! I hate saying that I was right...but I was right about this situation....living with a narcissist can lead to nothing but trouble. I am hoping that 2012 is one that brings this young man some peace in his life.
As we look to the next year, I am a tad worried about Buddy's shoulder. I know that tendonitis can take a long time to heal, but the season is set to begin in 6 weeks in Tampa. He needs to work on his curve ball and throw without pain. Tomorrow, dad and I meet with the university's specialist to go over the diagnosis and plan. Knowing my son, he will want to return to pitching sooner than later which can only aggravate the shoulder. Let time heal this wound, please....
Do I have any goals for the upcoming years....besides sanity, perhaps? Sure...I am going to take one day at a time and be the best person that I can be. I want to be as helpful as possible to the people that need me and stay positive and upbeat. I would like to pay the bills and lose ten pounds. Further, I would like peace on earth and lower taxes, affordable housing for the poor, and enough food in the soup kitchens to feed the hungry. Also, I would like for once and for all, for the concept of global warming to be defined...what exactly is it and do I really have to give up using hair spray? Am I really leaving a carbon footprint? And can someone define carbon footprints? Another resolution.....clean my shoes to eliminate my carbon footprint....
Happy New Year!
There were so many highs in 2011. I started this blog to set the record straight about Buddy and his climb in baseball. Boy, were there highs and lows over these years. Recalling the years of development and what he had to do to be noticed by a division I school made me realize that he is a bit of a hero. I think that a hero is an ordinary person who does extraordinary things. In my mind, he never gave up...verbally, he may have sounded off a few "I quits" and expletives but the negative comments and shots that he took especially from his peers made him stronger. He is a different person than he was in high school as he is more determined than ever to succeed. I wish him the best as I continue to support him while sitting in the stands and by the telephone. He knows that he can count on BP mom to stand in his corner and be his 'wing man' should he need one.
Then there is Tink...Tink who has taken a back seat on her brother's journeys. She, too is a hero, as she works diligently toward her goal of being a preschool teacher. Starting college, she studies more than Buddy and I have combined. Dad did not need to study, 'cause he is blessed with a great memory and common sense. The rest of us have the challenge of trying to focus on our tasks and retain some knowledge for testing and passing courses. Yet, Tink works furiously as she sits in a corner of the house (there are at least 4 desks that she can work from, but she prefers the corner of the living room) and tries to figure out college math. Sadly, I am not the person to help her through this journey, since I am pretty sure that the calculator was invented for numbskulls like me. Tink gets a high five from me and a high paw from Diva Dog.
Some of the 2011 lows include Buddy's hair raising line drive to the face in which I saw his and my lives flash before my eyes. I do believe that his guardian angel deflected that ball, 'cause it was headed for disaster. The fact that he was able to move let alone stand up after the hit was a miracle. Amen....
Another low has been the living situation with LW. Oy! I hate saying that I was right...but I was right about this situation....living with a narcissist can lead to nothing but trouble. I am hoping that 2012 is one that brings this young man some peace in his life.
As we look to the next year, I am a tad worried about Buddy's shoulder. I know that tendonitis can take a long time to heal, but the season is set to begin in 6 weeks in Tampa. He needs to work on his curve ball and throw without pain. Tomorrow, dad and I meet with the university's specialist to go over the diagnosis and plan. Knowing my son, he will want to return to pitching sooner than later which can only aggravate the shoulder. Let time heal this wound, please....
Do I have any goals for the upcoming years....besides sanity, perhaps? Sure...I am going to take one day at a time and be the best person that I can be. I want to be as helpful as possible to the people that need me and stay positive and upbeat. I would like to pay the bills and lose ten pounds. Further, I would like peace on earth and lower taxes, affordable housing for the poor, and enough food in the soup kitchens to feed the hungry. Also, I would like for once and for all, for the concept of global warming to be defined...what exactly is it and do I really have to give up using hair spray? Am I really leaving a carbon footprint? And can someone define carbon footprints? Another resolution.....clean my shoes to eliminate my carbon footprint....
Happy New Year!
Friday, December 23, 2011
Two places at once.....
I am quickly running out of time. No, I am not finished with preparations. I looked at the kids' gifts and think that they need a bit more. What is that all about? Aren't I the one who is trying to abide by the true meaning of the season? Am I a hypocrite as I run to the mall, Sam's Club, and vegetable stand for dinner and produce today? With the unwrapped presents scattered over the floor in my office, I have not exercised for a few days. What is going on?
Actually, I know what is going on...I am a victim of consumerism and sinister marketing strategies. That's right....I have not evolved since I watched the early McDonald's advertisements on television and immediately felt that a quarter pounder with cheese and french fries should be my birthday dinner. I have to buy named brand bread, cereal, and chips. Aren't they all the same? What's the difference between a Herr's potato chip and a brand that I never heard of? I ask you, how did I fall so hard and deep that I cannot pull myself out of this downward spiral? I can only answer this question if I head to therapy...perhaps after years of peeling away the layers of my mind like an onion, I can figure it out.
And so, I have to meet Scooby at one mall in 30 minutes then Dr G at Sam's club in 90 minutes after he finishes surgery. Can I do it? I think so...I was born to compete. I can be at two places at one time....what modern woman can't? I will leave Tink, Lil A, and Buddy to clean up the house (right....) and throw on the track suit. Not the velour one like my Uncle T wears (major fashion faux pas) but the one that has racing stripes on the legs like Sue Sylvester on Glee. First, I have to put on the Adidas sneakers.....Got to run, Scoob is waiting.
Have a good day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Actually, I know what is going on...I am a victim of consumerism and sinister marketing strategies. That's right....I have not evolved since I watched the early McDonald's advertisements on television and immediately felt that a quarter pounder with cheese and french fries should be my birthday dinner. I have to buy named brand bread, cereal, and chips. Aren't they all the same? What's the difference between a Herr's potato chip and a brand that I never heard of? I ask you, how did I fall so hard and deep that I cannot pull myself out of this downward spiral? I can only answer this question if I head to therapy...perhaps after years of peeling away the layers of my mind like an onion, I can figure it out.
And so, I have to meet Scooby at one mall in 30 minutes then Dr G at Sam's club in 90 minutes after he finishes surgery. Can I do it? I think so...I was born to compete. I can be at two places at one time....what modern woman can't? I will leave Tink, Lil A, and Buddy to clean up the house (right....) and throw on the track suit. Not the velour one like my Uncle T wears (major fashion faux pas) but the one that has racing stripes on the legs like Sue Sylvester on Glee. First, I have to put on the Adidas sneakers.....Got to run, Scoob is waiting.
Have a good day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Bullpen mom...forever and ever and ever....
Good morning! For some strange reason, fall ball continues. I thought that it was over last week, but lo and behold, I think that it will morph into winter ball then spring ball then summer ball. When does my kid do his homework? If I hear the phrase: "I am so tired..." one more time, I will scream...or not....
Yesterday, he sent me his criminology grade. Remember this course? It was the one that he really liked at the beginning of the year. Then the work began, the first test was taken, the first "D" was earned and badda badda bing...he hated the class. Well, knowing the word "eligible" was embedded in his head, he rallied to earn a "B+" in his last test. As evidence, he sent the scanned test to me (kind of a CSI thing to do....) and he did not complete the last two questions which could have earned him his highest test grade of the past two years. In a true Buddy-like comment, he replied "I thought that I was done with the test..." I then asked for his permission to say it since I never put the kids down and said "DOIEY!" And so it goes, he works his butt off to study and makes a mistake like not finishing his test.
The way that I look at it is that he likes the pressure of bringing his grades up. It is like the bottom of the 9th, he needs three outs to finish off the World Series....instead of getting the first three players out, he walks them, 'cause he likes the stress...then he systematically gets the last three guys out while never giving up a run. Yet, as we watch from the stands, our hearts are pounding while perspiration drips off our foreheads onto the ground making a big puddle, the Big Kid finishes the game and he wins it for the team. A hero, because he always comes from behind to prove his value and worth. From a mom's perspective, he has a great deal of value and worth as he and his sister carry my heart in their hands.
With that said, Dog overhead the head coach say that Buddy was "born to close". What the heck? Does this mean that I have to sit in the stands every single game until infinity watching other guys play, my kid leaning over the bullpen fence spitting out seeds until the bottom of the 9th inning forever? I guess that I am going to be Bullpen mom until the day I die...and so it goes....
Yesterday, he sent me his criminology grade. Remember this course? It was the one that he really liked at the beginning of the year. Then the work began, the first test was taken, the first "D" was earned and badda badda bing...he hated the class. Well, knowing the word "eligible" was embedded in his head, he rallied to earn a "B+" in his last test. As evidence, he sent the scanned test to me (kind of a CSI thing to do....) and he did not complete the last two questions which could have earned him his highest test grade of the past two years. In a true Buddy-like comment, he replied "I thought that I was done with the test..." I then asked for his permission to say it since I never put the kids down and said "DOIEY!" And so it goes, he works his butt off to study and makes a mistake like not finishing his test.
The way that I look at it is that he likes the pressure of bringing his grades up. It is like the bottom of the 9th, he needs three outs to finish off the World Series....instead of getting the first three players out, he walks them, 'cause he likes the stress...then he systematically gets the last three guys out while never giving up a run. Yet, as we watch from the stands, our hearts are pounding while perspiration drips off our foreheads onto the ground making a big puddle, the Big Kid finishes the game and he wins it for the team. A hero, because he always comes from behind to prove his value and worth. From a mom's perspective, he has a great deal of value and worth as he and his sister carry my heart in their hands.
With that said, Dog overhead the head coach say that Buddy was "born to close". What the heck? Does this mean that I have to sit in the stands every single game until infinity watching other guys play, my kid leaning over the bullpen fence spitting out seeds until the bottom of the 9th inning forever? I guess that I am going to be Bullpen mom until the day I die...and so it goes....
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Cupcake Power
Good morning. I have an early meeting, so this will be a quick one....On Sunday, we traveled and watched the baseball scrimmage. My favorite outfielder, Angel was competing for a starting position and struggling with his hitting. After he popped up to his best friend and room mate, Buddy, he stayed at the field long after the other guys left for dinner.
He was so late that after dinner we stopped by the locker room to pick up papers that Buddy had left (thank goodness his head is attached to his neck) and we found him in the batting cages. Swing, swing, swing and so on and on and on....While driving the guys back to the apartment which conveniently is located (not) miles from the stadium, he voiced his sadness about his performance. Dad and I listened and could not offer any lame advice like "all things pass"...."There is a time and place..." ..."hang in there" and so on.... All I could do is hand him a homemade chocolate stuffed cupcake and we were on our way.
Last night Buddy called....he pitched and faced 4 batters. Sadly, he walked Big Red, but got out of the inning with ease. LW struggled again and it was everyone else's fault including the sunset and lights on the field. Over to Angel...he hit a single, double, walked and lined out. Was it magic? A change in batting stance? new glasses? power of positive thinking? Visual imagery? What could it have been? According to Buddy and Angel...it was the homemade cupcakes. Yes, folks...the power of a double chocolate mound of cake filled delectably with frosting and covered with chocolate ganache. So, when you are in a batting slump, BP mom's chocolate cupcakes will do the trick...they are filled with magic, love, and self confidence.
Have a great day!
He was so late that after dinner we stopped by the locker room to pick up papers that Buddy had left (thank goodness his head is attached to his neck) and we found him in the batting cages. Swing, swing, swing and so on and on and on....While driving the guys back to the apartment which conveniently is located (not) miles from the stadium, he voiced his sadness about his performance. Dad and I listened and could not offer any lame advice like "all things pass"...."There is a time and place..." ..."hang in there" and so on.... All I could do is hand him a homemade chocolate stuffed cupcake and we were on our way.
Last night Buddy called....he pitched and faced 4 batters. Sadly, he walked Big Red, but got out of the inning with ease. LW struggled again and it was everyone else's fault including the sunset and lights on the field. Over to Angel...he hit a single, double, walked and lined out. Was it magic? A change in batting stance? new glasses? power of positive thinking? Visual imagery? What could it have been? According to Buddy and Angel...it was the homemade cupcakes. Yes, folks...the power of a double chocolate mound of cake filled delectably with frosting and covered with chocolate ganache. So, when you are in a batting slump, BP mom's chocolate cupcakes will do the trick...they are filled with magic, love, and self confidence.
Have a great day!
Monday, September 26, 2011
Life lessons learned on the court
Greetings! I know that there are times when I joke about my son as he grows and develops into the man that he is destined to become. All of the humor is just that…humor. I try to look at life as a series of events that construct the complicated 1000 piece puzzle of our lives. If I didn’t laugh, then I would probably be sitting in a padded room allowed out for medication and therapy. Humor is generally the way I cope and look at life.
Therefore, when I joke about the big kid and his lack of spelling prowess (how do you spell my middle name?) or inability to follow through on simple directions (you place the empty can into the recycling container), I am actually sending our messages of how unique and wonderful the guy is and how blessed I am that he and his sister are in my life.
OK, enough of that mush…. last night, Buddy called while we were cleaning the kitchen after dinner. With the dishwasher churning, football game blaring, and the vacuum roaring, I tried to hear what he was telling me from outside of the study hall. Apparently he and a few other pitchers were asked to play wheelchair basketball with a group of wounded Iraq warriors (the team sponsors this group and raises funds for them). Buddy and 6 other guys had the opportunity to work out with these athletes. From what he shares with me, they were in terrific shape as the warriors crushed the pitchers in a game of hoops. He explained the game to me and mentioned his hands, shoulders, and arms ached from moving the chair up and down the court. His legs were cramping and muscles were uncomfortable. He also joked that he was asked to guard a girl in a chair who had been paralyzed in a Humvee accident. He refused to block her shot but she aggressively ran her chair broadside into his showing some feminine domination...you go girl!
Then he mentioned that he could get up out of the chair, but the others could not. He was humbled by the experience and plans to join the group when they play again. After posing for pictures with the hoop warriors, he invited the players to the home games as he would take care of their tickets. The guys made lots of new friends.
I am not going to joke about this one at all. I was impressed by the players’ humility and experiences and grateful that he was given yet another opportunity to learn about life without having to listen to me pontificate. The experience was worth 100 sermons at the 7:30 am mass.
And so, life goes on and another week begins. It’s time to go back to work....have a good day.
Therefore, when I joke about the big kid and his lack of spelling prowess (how do you spell my middle name?) or inability to follow through on simple directions (you place the empty can into the recycling container), I am actually sending our messages of how unique and wonderful the guy is and how blessed I am that he and his sister are in my life.
OK, enough of that mush…. last night, Buddy called while we were cleaning the kitchen after dinner. With the dishwasher churning, football game blaring, and the vacuum roaring, I tried to hear what he was telling me from outside of the study hall. Apparently he and a few other pitchers were asked to play wheelchair basketball with a group of wounded Iraq warriors (the team sponsors this group and raises funds for them). Buddy and 6 other guys had the opportunity to work out with these athletes. From what he shares with me, they were in terrific shape as the warriors crushed the pitchers in a game of hoops. He explained the game to me and mentioned his hands, shoulders, and arms ached from moving the chair up and down the court. His legs were cramping and muscles were uncomfortable. He also joked that he was asked to guard a girl in a chair who had been paralyzed in a Humvee accident. He refused to block her shot but she aggressively ran her chair broadside into his showing some feminine domination...you go girl!
Then he mentioned that he could get up out of the chair, but the others could not. He was humbled by the experience and plans to join the group when they play again. After posing for pictures with the hoop warriors, he invited the players to the home games as he would take care of their tickets. The guys made lots of new friends.
I am not going to joke about this one at all. I was impressed by the players’ humility and experiences and grateful that he was given yet another opportunity to learn about life without having to listen to me pontificate. The experience was worth 100 sermons at the 7:30 am mass.
And so, life goes on and another week begins. It’s time to go back to work....have a good day.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Leaving a Legacy
Good morning! The clean up in the Northeast begins. Thank goodness Irene was downgraded. It could have been much worse. Did you see that there is another one in the Caribbean? Yikes!
To day, I would love to pay tribute to one of Buddy's baseball coaches who is currently in hospice. The prognosis is grim and his current status is touch and go. With that said, Coach A is one of Buddy's former American Legion coaches. He is somewhere north of 60 years old and has devoted his life to the community. The past twenty years or so, he has been coaching baseball. Of note, he has been coaching kids other than his sons who are grown with their own families. This has made him unique, because most of the coaches are coaching to give their own sons advantages, but not Coach A. As a matter of fact, he has been volunteering and paying for his own expenses for a number of years.
I got to know Coach A a few years ago. He drove his Honda to West Virginia for a tournament one summer in June. The tournament took place over Father's Day weekend and he chose to spend the weekend with boys and families that were not his own. Anyway, I attempted to follow the Honda on the turnpike without success. He flew as if his passenger was about to give birth in the front seat. After a few hours of white knuckled driving, I let him go and I drove at a safer speed. This was the start of the jokes that came about his Mr. Magoo driving. While in WV, his Honda got stuck on active railroad tracks. He must have hit a hole and he and the coach were stuck for a few desperate minutes. Finally Coach A was able to unhook the car and drive to safety. I told Buddy that he was never to drive in Coach's car (actually, I did not need to, because none of the kids were brave enough to attempt it). I am sure that his passengers needed a blindfold and cigarette every time they sat in the car with him.
Anyway, he loved his team and did all that he could to mentor the boys. He was calm when the head coach was fired up. He had a great sense of humor and loved a cold beer and a good story. While he has been sick, many of his friends and former players have stopped by to see him and thank him for all that he has done for them. As the disease started to actively take his life, he told a mutual friend to give Buddy a message. Imagine...doesn't he other things or people to think about besides my son?
The friend called dad to relay Coach A's message to Buddy which is: "Tell Buddy that I believe in him and that he will go all the way...." As I typed the words, I get a bit emotional. Isn't this what it is all about? Leaving a positive legacy on the world? Thinking of others during times of crisis? Loving kids and continuing to mentor them even on the death bed? I am humbled and grateful that Coach A was such a positive influence on my son's life. God bless you Coach A and your family. You will never be forgotten as you have impacted hundreds of kids during their formative years.
To day, I would love to pay tribute to one of Buddy's baseball coaches who is currently in hospice. The prognosis is grim and his current status is touch and go. With that said, Coach A is one of Buddy's former American Legion coaches. He is somewhere north of 60 years old and has devoted his life to the community. The past twenty years or so, he has been coaching baseball. Of note, he has been coaching kids other than his sons who are grown with their own families. This has made him unique, because most of the coaches are coaching to give their own sons advantages, but not Coach A. As a matter of fact, he has been volunteering and paying for his own expenses for a number of years.
I got to know Coach A a few years ago. He drove his Honda to West Virginia for a tournament one summer in June. The tournament took place over Father's Day weekend and he chose to spend the weekend with boys and families that were not his own. Anyway, I attempted to follow the Honda on the turnpike without success. He flew as if his passenger was about to give birth in the front seat. After a few hours of white knuckled driving, I let him go and I drove at a safer speed. This was the start of the jokes that came about his Mr. Magoo driving. While in WV, his Honda got stuck on active railroad tracks. He must have hit a hole and he and the coach were stuck for a few desperate minutes. Finally Coach A was able to unhook the car and drive to safety. I told Buddy that he was never to drive in Coach's car (actually, I did not need to, because none of the kids were brave enough to attempt it). I am sure that his passengers needed a blindfold and cigarette every time they sat in the car with him.
Anyway, he loved his team and did all that he could to mentor the boys. He was calm when the head coach was fired up. He had a great sense of humor and loved a cold beer and a good story. While he has been sick, many of his friends and former players have stopped by to see him and thank him for all that he has done for them. As the disease started to actively take his life, he told a mutual friend to give Buddy a message. Imagine...doesn't he other things or people to think about besides my son?
The friend called dad to relay Coach A's message to Buddy which is: "Tell Buddy that I believe in him and that he will go all the way...." As I typed the words, I get a bit emotional. Isn't this what it is all about? Leaving a positive legacy on the world? Thinking of others during times of crisis? Loving kids and continuing to mentor them even on the death bed? I am humbled and grateful that Coach A was such a positive influence on my son's life. God bless you Coach A and your family. You will never be forgotten as you have impacted hundreds of kids during their formative years.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Thunder, lightening, and a scuffle: A great night at the ball park
Good morning! Storms rolled through last night in more than one way. It thundered loudly and lightening struck throughout the region and at the ball park....more about that later...
I decided since Buddy was not going to play, I had the opportunity to sit and complete some work without interruption. He took the car and I had a number of projects that needed attention. It was hot and I was focused on my work when an exuberant bullpen pitcher burst into the room. The smile was so big that I had to look twice to see if it was my mostly sullen kid.....It seems that the game took on a gangsta' tone as the starting pitcher, The Stud was striking players out on command. He is a local kid and has the reputation of being difficult and not a team player. Yet, according to Buddy, this is not true. He is a great guy and super team mate, so he did not know how he earned this reputation.
Back to the game, Stud was on fire as they played the number one team in the region who generally dominates all teams. Yet, Stud was the man on the mound and did not leave any prisoners. As the game was moving along, both teams were yapping at one another cussin' and swearin' and frankly using words that I have never heard in church. Toward the end of the game, Stud walked to the dugout and the third base coach accidentally on purpose bumped into his shoulder....hmmm....nonverbal communication suggesting...let's rumble...
Stud was replaced by the closer, Mr. Domination who proceeded to strike out all three batters that he faced with a 96 mph fast ball...game over...rumble beginning as Mr D lifted his shirt up to demonstrate his flawless play....the other team DID NOT like this and the teams began to scuffle and continue the war of words....
My son, not wanting to miss the action, yet not someone who likes conflict stood back a bit and used his fresh mouth to fight rather than his fists (heaven forbid that he breaks that hand....). His bullpen friend pretended to hold him back as he verbally continued the assault...then an opposing player asked him if he wanted to go at it....Ooops...ah no man...it's just a stupid game, get over it. The peacemaker emerged and he backed off. Scuffle ended with Sparky yelling expletives at the other coach and players (again, he displays his leadership talents). No one was injured. No punches were actually thrown, but now the team has a great story and the war has united them more than the coaches could ever had without the melee.
My only question had been "Were any young kids watching the fight?" His response was "What do you think?" OY! I am sure that this moment in team history will live on in these young impressionable minds for a long, long time. I can picture my kid standing on the outside of the fight circle encouraging his team mates as he buzzes around the conflict...participating but not participating....not wanting to be hit nor hit anyone.....just having a good time doing what is perceived as "guy stuff".
By the way, The Stud, who is reputedly not considered a team player was in the middle of the fracas protecting his team mates. What does this tell you about reputations?
I decided since Buddy was not going to play, I had the opportunity to sit and complete some work without interruption. He took the car and I had a number of projects that needed attention. It was hot and I was focused on my work when an exuberant bullpen pitcher burst into the room. The smile was so big that I had to look twice to see if it was my mostly sullen kid.....It seems that the game took on a gangsta' tone as the starting pitcher, The Stud was striking players out on command. He is a local kid and has the reputation of being difficult and not a team player. Yet, according to Buddy, this is not true. He is a great guy and super team mate, so he did not know how he earned this reputation.
Back to the game, Stud was on fire as they played the number one team in the region who generally dominates all teams. Yet, Stud was the man on the mound and did not leave any prisoners. As the game was moving along, both teams were yapping at one another cussin' and swearin' and frankly using words that I have never heard in church. Toward the end of the game, Stud walked to the dugout and the third base coach accidentally on purpose bumped into his shoulder....hmmm....nonverbal communication suggesting...let's rumble...
Stud was replaced by the closer, Mr. Domination who proceeded to strike out all three batters that he faced with a 96 mph fast ball...game over...rumble beginning as Mr D lifted his shirt up to demonstrate his flawless play....the other team DID NOT like this and the teams began to scuffle and continue the war of words....
My son, not wanting to miss the action, yet not someone who likes conflict stood back a bit and used his fresh mouth to fight rather than his fists (heaven forbid that he breaks that hand....). His bullpen friend pretended to hold him back as he verbally continued the assault...then an opposing player asked him if he wanted to go at it....Ooops...ah no man...it's just a stupid game, get over it. The peacemaker emerged and he backed off. Scuffle ended with Sparky yelling expletives at the other coach and players (again, he displays his leadership talents). No one was injured. No punches were actually thrown, but now the team has a great story and the war has united them more than the coaches could ever had without the melee.
My only question had been "Were any young kids watching the fight?" His response was "What do you think?" OY! I am sure that this moment in team history will live on in these young impressionable minds for a long, long time. I can picture my kid standing on the outside of the fight circle encouraging his team mates as he buzzes around the conflict...participating but not participating....not wanting to be hit nor hit anyone.....just having a good time doing what is perceived as "guy stuff".
By the way, The Stud, who is reputedly not considered a team player was in the middle of the fracas protecting his team mates. What does this tell you about reputations?
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Fireworks
Last night started off a very festive holiday weekend with sister Scooby hosting a pool party with fireworks. There was lots of great food and awesome fireworks set off at the school down the street from the house. It was wonderful...
As we sat enjoying the beautiful colors of the sky show, there was another set of fireworks erupting in the adjacent state as Buddy's flame burned higher and brighter than any other man made pyrotechnic display. While watching the rockets red glare, there were bombs bursting elsewhere. It seemed surreal as the roman candles burned brightly, I received a call from dad. Buddy is warming up and will go in the game during the 8th inning, which was the exact time that the fireworks were exploding.
According to dad, he walked the first batter on a 3-2 pitch. The second batter placed a bunt and moved the batter to second base. The second batter was out. So, there was 1 out with a man on second. This is nothing for my son. He thrives on a bit of stress, and this was nothing...until....
Sparky the coach walks out from the dugout, tells him that he stinks (my cleaner version of the comment) and pulls him from the game. Mortified, he sits in the dugout while the next pitcher throws a wild pitch advancing the runner to third base then balks with the winning run scoring. The team loses....dad and Buddy lit off rockets that were seen throughout the Midwest and Southeast US. In fact, I think that the beautiful fireworks display that I was watching was a further manifestation of what was happening in Ohio.
Does it sound like I am making excuses for my son? Nope....the first, second and third pitchers were wild and gave up 5 runs. Buddy did not have a chance to settle in to the game. The last time that he pitched was 8 days ago. The coach expected him to stand up and throw the ball across the plate with no practice. It is bizarre.
On the way home from the party, I received not 1, not 2, but 3 phone calls from 2 angry people. The calls went something like this..."#$AM)STD%%%*&<.....furthermore....*U@#!@@@(^$% Coach...*&$V(%^....wasting my time &^*%%$#$..." Get the picture?
I calmed him down and we all agreed (I am glad that dad was there to witness it) that he would speak to the coach...keep it under 1 minute because Sparky would be unable to follow a conversation for a longer period of time...The plan was made and we said good night...
An early morning wake up call (thanks dad) to discuss the matter further began my day. We worked out the details of the plan and made a few decisions. First, the conversation with Sparky will take place today. Buddy will tell him in a nonthreatening, factual way that he has not been given the opportunity to display his talents or develop under the coach's tutelage. Second, he needs to know what the coach's intentions for him are and that he needs some type of schedule as to if and when he is going to pitch. Without a schedule, he cannot work out. His coach at his college gave him a routine for each day with running, weight lifting, aerobics, stretching, and so on. He cannot do any of the activities if he is going to throw. if he does not know when he is going to throw, then he cannot train....see the dilemma? Also, he has lost a significant amount of weight with his illness and inability to train. With weight loss comes muscle loss and results in a slower fast ball.
With that said, after the conversation with Sparky, he is going to call his coach at school and share the details. He will follow any advice that the coach gives him. Further, he has our blessing to leave the team and return home to train with coaches who understand the game and how to develop players. He actually has my permission to resign from the team. The goal of improving and being given innings to improve his fast ball have not been forthcoming. If anything, he is regressing...
And so....Look up in the sky tonight...if you see an errant rocket exploding, it could be the results of Buddy's conversation with Sparky and Stinky Pete....What ever his college coach decides, Buddy will abide by...this means if he is told to leave the team to train at home with professional coaches, he will....sadly, we'll miss the cheap wine and Bullpen Boogie...and so it goes in the life of a bullpen kid.
Have a great weekend...off to party number two......
As we sat enjoying the beautiful colors of the sky show, there was another set of fireworks erupting in the adjacent state as Buddy's flame burned higher and brighter than any other man made pyrotechnic display. While watching the rockets red glare, there were bombs bursting elsewhere. It seemed surreal as the roman candles burned brightly, I received a call from dad. Buddy is warming up and will go in the game during the 8th inning, which was the exact time that the fireworks were exploding.
According to dad, he walked the first batter on a 3-2 pitch. The second batter placed a bunt and moved the batter to second base. The second batter was out. So, there was 1 out with a man on second. This is nothing for my son. He thrives on a bit of stress, and this was nothing...until....
Sparky the coach walks out from the dugout, tells him that he stinks (my cleaner version of the comment) and pulls him from the game. Mortified, he sits in the dugout while the next pitcher throws a wild pitch advancing the runner to third base then balks with the winning run scoring. The team loses....dad and Buddy lit off rockets that were seen throughout the Midwest and Southeast US. In fact, I think that the beautiful fireworks display that I was watching was a further manifestation of what was happening in Ohio.
Does it sound like I am making excuses for my son? Nope....the first, second and third pitchers were wild and gave up 5 runs. Buddy did not have a chance to settle in to the game. The last time that he pitched was 8 days ago. The coach expected him to stand up and throw the ball across the plate with no practice. It is bizarre.
On the way home from the party, I received not 1, not 2, but 3 phone calls from 2 angry people. The calls went something like this..."#$AM)STD%%%*&<.....furthermore....*U@#!@@@(^$% Coach...*&$V(%^....wasting my time &^*%%$#$..." Get the picture?
I calmed him down and we all agreed (I am glad that dad was there to witness it) that he would speak to the coach...keep it under 1 minute because Sparky would be unable to follow a conversation for a longer period of time...The plan was made and we said good night...
An early morning wake up call (thanks dad) to discuss the matter further began my day. We worked out the details of the plan and made a few decisions. First, the conversation with Sparky will take place today. Buddy will tell him in a nonthreatening, factual way that he has not been given the opportunity to display his talents or develop under the coach's tutelage. Second, he needs to know what the coach's intentions for him are and that he needs some type of schedule as to if and when he is going to pitch. Without a schedule, he cannot work out. His coach at his college gave him a routine for each day with running, weight lifting, aerobics, stretching, and so on. He cannot do any of the activities if he is going to throw. if he does not know when he is going to throw, then he cannot train....see the dilemma? Also, he has lost a significant amount of weight with his illness and inability to train. With weight loss comes muscle loss and results in a slower fast ball.
With that said, after the conversation with Sparky, he is going to call his coach at school and share the details. He will follow any advice that the coach gives him. Further, he has our blessing to leave the team and return home to train with coaches who understand the game and how to develop players. He actually has my permission to resign from the team. The goal of improving and being given innings to improve his fast ball have not been forthcoming. If anything, he is regressing...
And so....Look up in the sky tonight...if you see an errant rocket exploding, it could be the results of Buddy's conversation with Sparky and Stinky Pete....What ever his college coach decides, Buddy will abide by...this means if he is told to leave the team to train at home with professional coaches, he will....sadly, we'll miss the cheap wine and Bullpen Boogie...and so it goes in the life of a bullpen kid.
Have a great weekend...off to party number two......
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Opening Day
Last night, the team celebrated the first real game of the season. Sadly, it was a loss but the evening was perfect for baseball as the full moon peaked over the horizon with a gentle breeze and moderate temperatures. No, Buddy did not play. This was game three with no Buddy sighting except for Bullpen Boogie (see previous post for the way that the team embarrasses these players). It was dollar beer night and I was not in the mood to partake (even for a dollar). However, many of the fans did which led to a rowdy crowd. I saw one woman throw 6 empty bottles into the trash....
Today Buddy had to arise early (9 am for this kid is the middle of the night for me) to help to run a baseball camp for little leaguers. If I say that he was a bit "salty" I would be understating the obvious. His mood lightened up a bit when I flipped him a $10 bill to buy a bagel sandwich at Dunkin Donuts. It's the little things that makes him happy....like an egg, cheese, bacon and a bagel (oh yeah...and a pop tart or two or a box...).
As far as the apartment is concerned, I now have new appliances, toilet, dishwasher, linoleum floor, etc. As Bill and Aaron finished this morning with caulking and painting, Bill noted that I no longer have running water. Yes, you read this sentence correctly...no water...nothing...it's off or nonfunctional...no WATER!!!! Is there a camera somewhere? Am I on Candid Camera? Am I being PUNK'D? Is my life real or is this virtual? Am I having a nightmare? This is almost laughable....almost....I guess that I have to walk over to see the Snake again and place a another work order in for running water. I think that my work orders fill one file cabinet. Do I ask for too much?
I have been slowly making friends. Ann works in the donut shop. She is 75 and looking good for someone who is surrounded by sugar and her fellow admirers. These guys are in their 80's too and hang out chatting, reading the paper, and drinking coffee while Ann waits on the sugar-addicted customers like me. I would be shopping for new clothes each week if I worked there.
Then there are Thomas and James in Starbucks. They work the afternoon-evening shift. I did not get the name of the guy today who waited on me, but he was the one who took my debit card and handed it back when it did not work on Saturday. He remembered me and looked twice at my card when I handed it to him today. It worked...we smiled at each other knowing that today I was not going to have to dig for change at the bottom of my purse and between the seat cushions in the car. I consider this morning quite a success even without running water.
Today when Buddy returns home with the car, I am shopping for a toaster oven, oven mits, and pots and pans. We will stop eating out today and begin living in the apartment...although I did find a thousand legger today in the bathroom. He went swimming in our new toilet.
With that said, I have to go and find the Snake before the rain sets in...have a good day....
Today Buddy had to arise early (9 am for this kid is the middle of the night for me) to help to run a baseball camp for little leaguers. If I say that he was a bit "salty" I would be understating the obvious. His mood lightened up a bit when I flipped him a $10 bill to buy a bagel sandwich at Dunkin Donuts. It's the little things that makes him happy....like an egg, cheese, bacon and a bagel (oh yeah...and a pop tart or two or a box...).
As far as the apartment is concerned, I now have new appliances, toilet, dishwasher, linoleum floor, etc. As Bill and Aaron finished this morning with caulking and painting, Bill noted that I no longer have running water. Yes, you read this sentence correctly...no water...nothing...it's off or nonfunctional...no WATER!!!! Is there a camera somewhere? Am I on Candid Camera? Am I being PUNK'D? Is my life real or is this virtual? Am I having a nightmare? This is almost laughable....almost....I guess that I have to walk over to see the Snake again and place a another work order in for running water. I think that my work orders fill one file cabinet. Do I ask for too much?
I have been slowly making friends. Ann works in the donut shop. She is 75 and looking good for someone who is surrounded by sugar and her fellow admirers. These guys are in their 80's too and hang out chatting, reading the paper, and drinking coffee while Ann waits on the sugar-addicted customers like me. I would be shopping for new clothes each week if I worked there.
Then there are Thomas and James in Starbucks. They work the afternoon-evening shift. I did not get the name of the guy today who waited on me, but he was the one who took my debit card and handed it back when it did not work on Saturday. He remembered me and looked twice at my card when I handed it to him today. It worked...we smiled at each other knowing that today I was not going to have to dig for change at the bottom of my purse and between the seat cushions in the car. I consider this morning quite a success even without running water.
Today when Buddy returns home with the car, I am shopping for a toaster oven, oven mits, and pots and pans. We will stop eating out today and begin living in the apartment...although I did find a thousand legger today in the bathroom. He went swimming in our new toilet.
With that said, I have to go and find the Snake before the rain sets in...have a good day....
Monday, June 13, 2011
Waitingggggg.....
Good morning. It was day 2 in the apartment. No baseball on Sunday, just errands. We picked up an air purifier and Glade plug-ins to mask the broccoli smell with a modicum of success. Needless to say, we both slept better last night.
After speaking to the Snake yesterday, I was promised that the cleaners and maintenance people would be here first thing today. I am waitinggggg.......I also requested (with vigor) that the manager show up to say 'hello'....I am still waitinggggg........
Until the apartment is sanitized, I refuse to bring food in. We will continue to eat out. By the way, the bill is being paid by the manager of the complex.
On another note, Buddy is not going to the game today. The team is going to bring 5 pitchers to each away game. He went to Kentucky on Saturday and can sit this game out. Instead he is going to continue to work out at the Y and find a pitching coach to train with once a week. It seems that this team is not going to 'develop' the players, it is all about wins. Therefore, his goal to develop another pitch this summer will be altered as he works out with a former MLB pitcher who was recommended by a local parent.
As we settle into the rhythm of the summer, we have one last challenge. That is, to find a decent Midwest pizza. So far we have had the worst pizza and cannot believe the difficulty in finding pizza that is edible. True, this is not New York, Philadelphia or Chicago, but come on....dough...tomato sauce and cheese....let's go people! Do I have to do everything around here? Pizza is one food that we enjoy eating, however, a thick doughy bread-like crust with catsup and cheese on it is not acceptable....
I am writing this note and have the Today Show on...there is a size 2 model who is in the process of getting liposuction. According to the plastic surgeon, most of his patients are thin women. What's the deal! The doctor is justifying this surgery on thin women as people trying to re-proportion their shape. At size 2, there is very little shape there anyway. Yet another way for plastic surgeons to make money, preying on women's insecurities. Will the lipo make a difference in her level of happiness? Perhaps....but if she is so out of whack at a size 2, she is never going to be happy.
Sorry about the rantings. I am still adjusting to the new lifestyle and waitinggggg for the service people to show up to make the apartment habitable. Thanks for reading and have a great day.
After speaking to the Snake yesterday, I was promised that the cleaners and maintenance people would be here first thing today. I am waitinggggg.......I also requested (with vigor) that the manager show up to say 'hello'....I am still waitinggggg........
Until the apartment is sanitized, I refuse to bring food in. We will continue to eat out. By the way, the bill is being paid by the manager of the complex.
On another note, Buddy is not going to the game today. The team is going to bring 5 pitchers to each away game. He went to Kentucky on Saturday and can sit this game out. Instead he is going to continue to work out at the Y and find a pitching coach to train with once a week. It seems that this team is not going to 'develop' the players, it is all about wins. Therefore, his goal to develop another pitch this summer will be altered as he works out with a former MLB pitcher who was recommended by a local parent.
As we settle into the rhythm of the summer, we have one last challenge. That is, to find a decent Midwest pizza. So far we have had the worst pizza and cannot believe the difficulty in finding pizza that is edible. True, this is not New York, Philadelphia or Chicago, but come on....dough...tomato sauce and cheese....let's go people! Do I have to do everything around here? Pizza is one food that we enjoy eating, however, a thick doughy bread-like crust with catsup and cheese on it is not acceptable....
I am writing this note and have the Today Show on...there is a size 2 model who is in the process of getting liposuction. According to the plastic surgeon, most of his patients are thin women. What's the deal! The doctor is justifying this surgery on thin women as people trying to re-proportion their shape. At size 2, there is very little shape there anyway. Yet another way for plastic surgeons to make money, preying on women's insecurities. Will the lipo make a difference in her level of happiness? Perhaps....but if she is so out of whack at a size 2, she is never going to be happy.
Sorry about the rantings. I am still adjusting to the new lifestyle and waitinggggg for the service people to show up to make the apartment habitable. Thanks for reading and have a great day.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Onward
Tonight is Buddy's last night home for another two months. Time really flew....he sort of adjusted to the old routine. There were a few things that he forgot to do such as locking the door at night time, turning off the garage light and closing the door before bed, throwing out hershey kiss wrappers rather than dropping them on the floor, leaving wet towels on the floor, dishes in the sink, walking the dog when she needs it, tossing recyclables in the bin, and so on. Now that he is going away, my re-orientation of house rules will go by the wayside.....
As I previously mentioned, he ready with his hefty bag matching luggage. The car is packed and has new tires, but I am sure that he is going to forget some very important items like a tooth brush, pillow, and socks. He is walking around like he is in a daze or fog....like something important is on his mind....nah....
So, tomorrow at 5 am, dad and Buddy leave for the great unknown. They will point the car west and follow navigation until they reach the field. After that...who knows...this is yet another adventure for the big guy and his dad. Beginning at the tender age of 1, the kid has had a ball, bat or glove in his hand. His dad was a willing participant in the development of his skills. They would spend hours together as tutor and pupil, coach and player, and father and son. It is a journey that I have watched and also taken. But the story is more about the two of them and how a sport has created a bond that will never be broken. They speak to one another at least twice a day and work through the travels on life together. It is something to behold.....
Now the question is: "Where will the summer roads take him?" Will he sink or swim in this league? Can he add another pitch to his game or will all of this effort be in vain? I don't know, stay tuned....
As I previously mentioned, he ready with his hefty bag matching luggage. The car is packed and has new tires, but I am sure that he is going to forget some very important items like a tooth brush, pillow, and socks. He is walking around like he is in a daze or fog....like something important is on his mind....nah....
So, tomorrow at 5 am, dad and Buddy leave for the great unknown. They will point the car west and follow navigation until they reach the field. After that...who knows...this is yet another adventure for the big guy and his dad. Beginning at the tender age of 1, the kid has had a ball, bat or glove in his hand. His dad was a willing participant in the development of his skills. They would spend hours together as tutor and pupil, coach and player, and father and son. It is a journey that I have watched and also taken. But the story is more about the two of them and how a sport has created a bond that will never be broken. They speak to one another at least twice a day and work through the travels on life together. It is something to behold.....
Now the question is: "Where will the summer roads take him?" Will he sink or swim in this league? Can he add another pitch to his game or will all of this effort be in vain? I don't know, stay tuned....
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