We got the call. The call we have been waiting for. The call that would seal the fate of our summer nights.
Cory made the All Star team.
What this means is we will be loading all the kids in the car several evenings each week, and traveling to towns 1 1/2-2 hours from here. It also means great fun.
I love watching the All Star games. The kids are hand picked not only for being good players, but also for being good sports and having a heart and soul love for the game. The games are so exciting. Not only are they really playing baseball, but the attitude of the boys is awesome. The boys bond together as a team, cheer each other on from the sidelines, sing chants and songs, and encourage their team mates when they strike out.
As hard as it is to travel with small children, I plan on being there for every game, barring high fevers and vomiting. My younger sons will bring dump trucks and cars and will make elaborate race tracks in the dirt next to the bleachers. My daughters clothes will be stained with snow cone syrup. My husband will still be in his work clothes, because he will rush home for the game and not have time to change before we leave.
What my son will remember is looking into the stands and seeing his whole family there to cheer him on. He will remember the car rides, with mom and dad talking quietly in the front seat (or debating loudly), his baby sister napping in her "kitty" car seat, and his brothers laughing loudly at his goofy jokes.
I will remember the thrill of watching him play, pizza parties after the game, watching my kids enjoy the rare treat of a coke, and the smell of sweaty, sleepy kids in the van on the way home. I will remember that my husband was there for every game of both Little League and All Stars, without one complaint…ever.
My son will be a man soon. I can see it happening already. He is changing in so many ways. Soon, I will be loading him into his own car with all of his things as he heads off to college. When I think of this, it is as if a hand is plunging into my chest, grabbing my heart and squeezing it tightly. I can’t breathe when this happens.
He is almost 11, which means there are only 8 more baseball seasons left. 8!! How can that be? It will be gone before we know it. How fast?
In a blink of an eye, my friend. A blink of an eye.