I wanted to talk about yesterday and how important a day is was for Matthew - and a real important day for me. It was Matthew's first Tee Ball game. A coming of age moment for a 5 year old boy. I was so excited about it in fact I had trouble getting to sleep the night before. I know, that's a little silly but it was true, I was so excited to see my little boy in a uniform, dipping his cleat-covered toes into America's Game, standing on the field in the shadow of the Star-Spangled Banner a part of a team and in the spirit of competition. My kid had put a lot of work into his practices, he and I had spent afternoons shagging fly balls and scooping up grounders in our back yard. I taught him the fundamentals of the game. And finally the time had come for him to don his new gear and get out on the dusty diamond.
Unfortunately Matthew has been under the weather the last few days. With a combination of allergies, asthma and a good old spring time cold Matthew missed school on Friday. He woke up with a wicked cough. My mom kept him for part of the day and by the time she brought him to me at work she suggested he was well enough he could have gone to school! I understand where that comes from because even on Matthew's sickest days he can give you a run for your money! But just the same, he stayed with me at work until my shift was over and then we headed home. Sure enough he did seem to be feeling a lot better - and with the help of Benedryl, Singular and Robitussin he wasn't coughing nearly as much. He headed outdoors to play with the neighbor kids and by the time he got back in he was coughing so much I thought for sure he was going to hurt something. I felt so bad for him. You can see in his face when he's really not feeling well and it was one of those looks. So I dragged out the nebulizer and started up the hourly breathing treatments. I was hoping we could head off the full blown asthma attack with his Albuterol.
He wanted to play his ball game in the morning and I wanted him to but I wasn't going to send him out in the dusty, pollen covered morning unable to breathe. That's no good. My poor baby, that night, coughed so much he spit up in the bed. It was a long night for him and for me - I was changing the bed and doing laundry in the middle of the night and doing the breathing treatments every time he would wake up coughing. Eventually he settled down and finally got some rest. Maybe we'd managed the asthma spell and hopefully he would feel better come morning. And indeed he did feel a lot better! The wheezing had stopped and his cough was dormant. We did a breathing treatment for good measure, hopped him up on Benedryl, dressed him in his oversized uniform and headed down to the ball park!!
Now sleep deprivation is a funny thing and it affects people in different ways. For me - an overly senisitive, emotional person in the first place the more tired I am the more emotional I become. Yesterday at the ballgame was no exception! We stepped out of the car and headed towards the field and right away I was overcome with emotion! All of a sudden I missed my dad, remembering that Matthew's little league game was one of the things he wanted to see. How proud my dad would have been of this little boy of mine and I so wished he could have been there to see him. I took my place on the front row of the hot, metal bleachers right along the first base line and wiped away real tears (I know...but I can't help it!), took a deep breath
and commenced to pulling for my kid, 2nd baseman, number 40. SO PROUD!
Now, as far as teeball goes, there's not a whole lot of actual technique or athletic skill that's involved. But I pulled for that kid like he were in the majors. Turns out I had a little room to be proud! He fielded a ground ball and threw it 'towards' first base! That's what his coaches asked him to do and that's what he did and when it happened I lept to my feet screaming "GOOD JOB MATTIE! GREAT PLAY!" And then all of a sudden I remembered myself and turned around to apologize to the others in the stands. And they laughed and understood! But Matthew's cheering section is pretty small (my mom and myself) and I wanted to make sure the boy knew I was proud of him. He'll never know just how proud - but I wanted him to hear and feel special. I think he did!
At first I wasn't a fan of "every kid plays, no score keeping, every team wins - no team loses" kind of system that some of the kids sports leagues have developed. When I was a kid there were winners and losers. You had an opportunity to be both and that was good. I wanted Matt to know how to win gracefully as well as lose without a crushing blow to his self-esteem (or whatever some feel losing does to a kid). Regardless, I've completely changed my mind about that. Sitting in the stands it was easy to see who the better team was without benefit of a score and it just didn't matter. I found myself pulling for the kids on both teams and it was fun seeing any type of play - especially if it resembled any form of baseball! There was a little boy on the other team that limped up to the plate. He was the last batter of the inning (again, not really up with 'outs') and he got a hit. I didn't realize it until he got closer to first base but he had some sort of real disability. One of his little arms were drawn up and his toes dragged the ground when he ran. But he got a hit and he was running and he was smiling. The coaches yelled for him to run - keep running, all the way home. And he did and the crowds on both sets of bleachers cheered for him. He made it home and raised his arms in the air with a little boys fist pump in defiance of his disability. The coach patted him on top of the helmet and the kid was as proud as he could be. And I cried. And now I get it. Sometimes score really doesn't matter and it's not just a game.
The end of the game came at the end of the second inning. They all lined up and did the good game hand slap. Matt collected his snack and juice box and we headed home. I told him he did great and how proud I was of him. He didn't have a lot to say about the game but was thrilled with the snack he received afterwards! I have the feeling that his little teeball game didn't mean nearly as much to him as it did to me. I was so proud of my boy for paying attention during the game, not having a meltdown tantrum (like at least 3 other kids did) and finishing the whole game without complaining or having to use the bathroom. He did what he was told, he listened to his coaches and he managed to resemble a baseball player! Did I mention how proud I was? I can't wait for next Saturday!
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