Eight Was Great But Nine is Fine!

For Andrew on Your 9th Birthday...

Today, for you, is a day of uncontainable excitement. A day of celebration, of pride in knowing that you have successfully graduated from being 8, of soaking up all of the affirmation and love being poured out upon you.  It is a beautiful day. Turning 9. The clock ticks.  The hands of time pushing you on toward 10.  And, it is all going by so very, very fast.

Today, for me, is a day of remembering.  I will look into your rose flushed face all day long and see the baby boy grown big and the big boy who will one day be a man.  And, I will hide behind a smile all of the fragility a mother feels in those glimpses, reassuring you that today is, for me, also a day of celebration. 

I remember with great clarity the day I discovered that you were alive within me.  

Your brother Benedict, only 8 months at the time, played at my feet on the carpeted floor of our tiny apartment, and as I watched him I couldn't stop repeating through tears of delight that he would soon have a sibling. He would soon have you.

I wondered how I would manage with two babies so small.  I wondered, as my womb was stretched, if my heart too could be stretched with more love, love just for you. And, I wondered if my lifetime would be enough time to tell, to show you just how much I do indeed love you.

Andrew, every day that I get to be your mom is a most wonderful gift.  In you I see God's light, manifested in your stillness and your actions, your words and your silence, your smiles and your tears. 

I cherish your joyful spirit, the one that draws others close enough to you so that you can embrace them in your arms and raise them up on your strong shoulders.  You're always watching out for the little ones, always ready to help, ready to give up a little something so that others might receive, always there to encourage at just the right time, always trying so very hard and wanting to do what is right.

Your dreams right now are to become a professional football player and then a priest.  I see how your eyes beam with hopeful confidence when you talk about this. Whatever dreams may fill your heart, I believe that  God has a very special plan for your life, for your strength - physical and spiritual. 

You teach me so very many things....someday we will sit on the porch together and I will tell you about every one of those things.  And, we will laugh, and I will ask you the same question that I have asked you every day since the day you were born, "Andrew, have I told you today that I love you? That you are my most favorite Andrew in the universe?"

I hope that your answer will always be yes.  If someday I forget to ask, please promise me that you will still remember how very much you are loved.

Happy, Happy Birthday!!

Love, 

Mom

Housekeeping, Football and Vince Lombardi

I thank Thee, O Lord for the gift of football.  I thank Thee also for the gifts of chess and Shakespeare and Beethoven, yet today I be ever more thankful for football.  For Thou who has given me five boys has preserved my sanity (and my furniture) with the gift of football. ~ Amen.

For the past three months, this has been my little prayer of gratitude. 

Out of that prayer has sprung some creative graces.  Graces that turned up that little voice inside (a.k.a. reason) which said, Hey man, if football is life then life will have to relate to football.

I'm not making up this "football is life" stuff.  You'll have to blame Vince Lombardi for that.

Football is like life - it requires perseverance, self-denial, hard work, sacrifice, dedication and respect for authority. ~ Vince Lombardi 

And so football has become for me a platform from which I might transfer an activity which the boys are wild about into things at home that they are less wild about, like cleaning their room.  Thus, football has turned the gruel of housework into a game victorious.  

My mother-son chat is coded in football lingo these days.  It's consuming me. 

I daydream about play calls (Blue 42 = clean your room, 28 Toss = take out the trash and Wide Wheel 9 = pick up the toys) . 

I dreamed I lost my whistle last night. Then, I woke up and realized I don't own a whistle.  Then, I stubbed my toe while staggering into the kitchen to find a pen to add "whistle" to my grocery list.  Then, I went back to bed and dreamed I forgot the plays.  

I woke up with my hat on backwards thirsty for Gatorade.  

George has volunteered to demonstrate just how this new creative lingo works on any given day.

These are my time out motivators (note: Steve is George's flag football coach.):

George, does your dad have to tell you to run full speed with the ball, or do you sprint as fast as you can toward the goal line?  What's the goal?  That's right, a clean room is a touchdown! Now get to it!

George, does your dad have to remind you to pay attention on the hike, or are you ready every time?  That's right.  Then look at me when I'm talkin' to you, or you're going to miss the ball (my instructions)!

George, does your dad have to tell you to zero in on your opponent and pull the flag on defense? No? That's right, so you need to block out the temptation to play Lego's and focus on getting your schoolwork done!

George, do you fight with your team mates in the huddle, or do you band together and focus on the victory?  That's right, then remember, your brothers are your team mates.  Now get out there and get along!

It's half-time boys (retreat to the locker room and be quiet so mommy can nap)!

Mommy is now too tired to come up with locker-room motivation magic.  So she must resort to more Vince Lombardi stolen quotes:

Individual commitment to a group effort - that is what makes a team work, a company work, a society work, a civilization work (mommy's household work).

I'm not sure what I will do when the football season is over.  Wrestling is up next.  That one makes me squirm.  Maybe we'll just have to stick with chess, Beethoven and Shakespeare. And, daddy will have to take me furniture shopping.

Fan appreciation...

Vince appreciation...

I firmly believe that any man's finest hour, the greatest fulfillment of all that he holds dear, is that moment when he has worked his heart out in a good cause and lies exhausted on the field of battle - victorious.