Taking the mound....

So guess who was the starting pitcher at last night's baseball game?

#16 in your program...#1 in your heart....

Coooooooper!

I was a wreck.

And I felt very pukish there for awhile.

I wanted to scream, "GO LOVE WAFFLE!"

Because I call him that sometimes.

And he pretends to hate that.

But I know he really loves it.

But I dug deep and refrained from the Love Waffle cheer.

And I just hollered regular ol' acceptable parental cheering things.

And he did great.

And stood out there on that pitcher's mound and wound up and scrunched up his little face and threw that ball.

Threw some strikes.

Allowed some hits.

And spit.

He spit a lot.

It was hilarious.

And I'm sure that JuJu's brother who may or may not be a college baseball head coach will be calling today to arrange a recruiting visit.

Because I'm sure he considers the overall cuteness and adorableness factor of guys in addition to their baseball skills.

If that's the case, Coop's got a full-ride headed his way.

Y'all have a good day and be nice. I'm going to go hug my coffee pot right now.

Horizontal

I can see the light at the end of the football tunnel. Cooper has practice tonight and a game Saturday and then it is finito.

It's been an interesting experience. For both of us. It's been fun. And it's been not fun.

Coop got laid out for the first time on Tuesday night at his game.

You know how it goes - a big ol' pile of boys. And they all start peeling off each other. Then one of them stays down. And you start looking for your kid's number among the vertical. And then you realize your kid is the one that's still horizontal. And Tuesday night it just happened to be #78 that had his face in the turf. Hmmmm.

The coach and a ref were hovered over him. Then another coach ran out.

I was standing by a very overprotectice, call 911 and take your kids to the ER type of a Mom.

She kept saying "GO OUT THERE! GO OUT THERE! HE'S HURT! HE'S CRYING!"

But I didn't. And the Captain didn't.

I stood there and prayed and swayed and chewed my fingernails and said "GETUPGETUPGETUPGETUP" in my mind over and over and over. I just said, "Not yet" out loud.

This is all on the heels of a 14 year old friend of ours who broke his femur during a game last week. 911 call, morphine injection on the field, ambulance ride to the hospital, surgery, pins, full leg cast for 10 weeks - the whole shebang.

Humph.

My eyes were going back and forth from Cooper to the Captain. Cooper to the Captain. Cooper to the Captain. The Captain was working the chains that night.

Epi-pen toting Mom was hollering "WELL IF YOU AREN'T GOING, GET THE CAPTAIN TO GO OUT THERE! GO! GO! GO!"

Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.

Time kind of ticked on a little bit and then I saw the Captain turn to hand somebody his number sign stick thing, but then Cooper got up. Much to Coop's dismay, he did NOT get to get carted off on the buggy and give a thumbs up to the crowd. But he did make it off the field. To the applause of all. And the relief of his mama.

Apparently got clothes-lined and got hit in the throat and kind of had his head jerked back. He trotted off. Sucked back the tears. Got some water. And then headed back in the game.

I know, I know - seasoned football moms will say, 'That's just part of the game. Get over it."

Well, I'm not a seasoned football mom.

And it was my kid on the field.

And say what you want, he's still my little 8 year old baby that wears spiderman underpants. I don't care how big his shoulder pads are and how hard his helmet is.

*sigh*

Basketball season is next.

No safety equipment required.

How was your day dear?

Yesterday, on the Tuesday that felt like a Monday, I was still sitting in a meeting at 5pm.

Cooper had to be at football practice across town at 5:45pm.

Jordan had a volleyball game at 5pm on the *other* side of town. The Captain attended and rah-rah-rah'd.

I flew out of the office at 5:05pm.

Ran in the door, changed my clothes and grabbed the kid.

Screached in the parking lot and made it to practice right as the kids were starting all those 1-2-3 warm up things.

Saw friend from church in the parking lot who pointed out that the pads in Coop's pants were all snapped in upside down.

I'm a goober head.

Fixed the pants.

Slapped him on the rear, kissed his little helmet bobble-head self and sent him off to the field.

Grabbed his 87 gallon water jug, my chair, and an umbrella.

Watched practice.

Hit hit hit.

Yea! Coop had a great tackle.

Right now that's not happening very much.

I was kinda' proud.

The coach bonked him on the helmet and said "Way to go W!!!!"

(Actually he didn't say "W", he said "LAST NAME", but our last name is all policey and highly confidental and stuff.....)

Watched Cooper go check on a player who was slow to get up.

Heard two dads talking, "Cooper is always encouraging everybody and congratulating them and telling them they've done a good job. He's a real nice kid."

Now THAT made me proud.

Forget the football.

*sniff*

Play a little Words with Friends.

Share "It's so hard to work full time and get kids everywhere and get it all done and survive" woes with a few other moms.

Cue the rain.

Oh wait -

Now cue the POURING rain.

Sit in the pouring rain for about 30 minutes.

Wonder if I'm really cut out to be a football mom.

Two hours later, practice is over.

Coop gets his game jersey -- with his name on it.

He's proud. Even though he hates football.

Head to the car.

Squish squish squish.

Ask Cooper to strip down to his underwear before he gets in the car.

He declines.

Seriously, those pants.

Those cleats.

Yuk.

Ummmmm....

Is that tire supposed to be that flat-looking?

Blah.

Text the Captain to see if he has an air blowy up thing in the garage.

He does.

Of course he does.

Hope there is enough air in the tire to make it home.

Drive home and pray the tire doesn't blow out and we go skidding all over the slickish road.

Make it home sans blow-out.

Whew.

Jordan and the Captain show up at the casa.

Recap of the day and the volleyball game.

With showers and homework for all.

Good night.

*Flinch*

Yesterday, I was able to stay and watch Cooper's football practice for the first time.

And I found out...maybe I'm not cut out to be a football mom.

Cause they just hit so....hard.

And the coaches yell so....loud.

Coop caught a helmet to the ribs and the coach sent him over to me to catch his breath and get some water from his 96 gallon jug that is the size of a Grecian urn that I bought him to make sure he doesn't dehydrate but it's so big he can hardly lift it to his mouth and when he tilts it up to take a drink he tips over backwards.

I wanted to just put him in the car and drive him home after making a quick trip to the ER to get an x-ray because I was sure he had ruptured his spleen patted his sweaty little head and sent him back down to the field.

To the hitting and yelling.

And I made a note to check into the school's chess club the minute I got home.

And when we got home, Cooper was proud that grass fell out of his underwear when he was getting ready for a shower.

And the Captain laughed at me after I told him about practice and said "Yelling? You think Coach U yells?? Wait til high school."

Then Coop and the Captain practiced some kind of shoulder bump butt roll thing in the den and watched a re-run of an NFL preseason game. And talked football.

And I washed volleyball uniforms and was grateful that one of my kids participates in a sport that doesn't require a helmet.