What do you mean, "we don't get gifts"???

So, I heard a conversation tonight, and her voice just rings in my ear.

 It was a few people chatting about "teacher's gifts" and so they asked a teacher what she preferred. And she began talking about the ornaments that she has a bazillion of, but some of them she loves so much, because of that particular child.

Another talked about how she doesn't really like the "trinkets" but she encourages her parents in the room to purchase books for the classroom library. And the teacher also commented about how she likes to receive "edible giftables"

And then there was another teacher, and someone asked her opinion. She quickly replied "I teach High School. We don't get gifts"

 WHAT!!!!!!!! Hold THE BUS! What do you mean? You don't get gifts? Are you telling me that parents of High Schoolers are so disconnected, that they don't tell their children's teachers Thank You?
 Seriously. Well, the sad part is, I already knew this. Mason's freshman year, I went and put cookies in ALL of the High School teachers boxes. There aren't that many.

Maybe 30 or so.

I had baked cookies. And put 2 to a bag.
TWO.

Yes, count them. 1 & 2.

(Do you know how long it takes to bake 60 cookies?! Like...um, no time! and then tie some cheap curling ribbon?!)


And I had an alarming number of teachers tell me they had NEVER received a Christmas gift in their entire High School Teaching career?

Unbelievable.

These are the teachers that help influence our children's career choice.

These are the teachers that teach them a foreign language, to equip them and help make them marketable to Corporate America.

These are the teachers that hug them when they break up with their first love....or that take care of them when they are sick, but NEED to be at school so they don't miss a huge exam.

You seriously, can't bake them a cookie.

Or buy them a dollar box of candy?

Come on now!

So, all of that to say this.

As Mason's High School career draws to a close....I realize just the value in all of years of doing this.

13 years.

Yes, 13 years and every year I have baked cookies, dipped spoons, chocolate dipped pretzels, or whatever I was feeling crafty enough to do.

And no, I am NOT bragging on myself, but am honestly thankful that I took the time.

Christmas time is frantic at our house.

And I would be willing to be that 11 of the 13 years...I was up late at night, finishing them in a quiet house, while my other 3 were nestled away (NOT helping!)

But, each  year, my boys write on the tags.

And they tell me how many teachers, coaches, janitors, office workers, etc that they want to give "gifts" to...and then they go in that morning with a bag full of goodies!

And they come with nothing! And they are always ready to tell me that so&so loved it...or Mrs. Whatever said she LOVES cookies, etc

I can only hope that my children and their wives will follow in this tradition...and maybe one day their teacher will say "I teach High School...and our kids are taught to appreciate us!"

All good things must come to an end.

(photo credit to my Sissy)

This photo Is the perfect reflection of how I feel this morning. You can't see my tears.

But what you can see is a Mama so proud. Not just proud of my #50. Proud of all of them. Like they are my very own.

 I'm not sad because they lost.

I mean, yes, like Mason said...you always wish you could go one more round. But...

Come on. The played Hoover. It's like saying you fought Mahamad Ali. Or that you swam with Michael Phelps.

They played AT Regions Park. Under the lights.

They made it to round 2, when half of the nation was at home. Wishing they would have.

This year alone:
They buried a teammate
Battled numerous injuries
Lost several starters to injuries
Attend the funeral of their Coach's father, as a team
BEAT OXFORD
And made it to Round 2 in the state playoffs. Something no Pell City Team has done in YEARS!!!


But most of all, they found that brotherhood that many men before them have found in this sport, and that's why it's the game it is.

As a girl, I never really "got it". And even when Mason came in that freshman year and said he wanted to go out for Spring Training. I fought it.He wanted to play, his Daddy wanted him to play, and I wanted him to stay home and cuddle with me...and not get hurt ;)

I'm so glad I lost that battle.

These are my boys.

MY BOYS.

And I'm not sad because they lost.

I'm sad because this chapter of our life has closed. And I won't have them every day. To love and hug.

I might not have a house fulla boys on Saturday mornings to feed.

I won't have Fridays full of psycho chaos. Chaos that I love.

So. I'm thankful for this picture. Of me. So proud of my boys.

And I guess my biggest question is...now what?!

Oh yeah...basketball starts Monday:)

Chronicles of Senior Year---one month down!

School started one month ago today! I can't believe it has already been a month.

In JUST ONE MONTH--
We have had the football Jamboree, and 3 season games.
(we are up 2-1, by the way!)

All of those have included a breakfast that morning.
One pep rally.

We have been to an Honors College banquet for the University of Alabama!!

He received his admission letter to the University of Alabama.

He received his first scholarship offer (praise the Lord!)

We have ordered his "traditional" invitations, all of his Senior Class of 2013 garb :)

We have submitted one scholarship application.

and what else?


And meanwhile, Chap has started running Cross Country. He has had two meets and another coming up this weekend.

He's had a few basketball practices in the the mix.

And he was the famous Emmit, the Panther at the first season Home Game!

All in all, we have had quite a busy 30 days, and wow! Time does zoom!

Please. Please. Let us stop...long enough to enjoy it!

Passing the torch...

 I could almost get teary-eyed looking at this photo.

This was taken at Graduation, 2012.

Graduation when the sweet Brady was graduating, and my dear friend, and fellow Panther Mom, Wendy, would be sending her sweet guy off on a new adventure.

What a great, fine young man she has in Brady, and in his big brother, Brett.

Throughout the past several years, I have looked to Wendy for advice. For words of wisdom. For sweet encouragement, or just for a little bit of glitter, as she too knows what it is like to live in a house of 3 guys, lots of stinky clothes, girlfriends taking away their time, many many trips to the grocery store to restock, but lots of hugs and snuggles too.

I can't even count the times that I have listened to every piece of advice she has to offer, listened so intently, because I knew she had already traveled the path I was wrangling my way through at the time.

I have cried many tears to her, and she has been so gut-straight honest.

And so, it brings me to this.

These Panther earrings.

She brought them to me at graduation, the official night that Mason becomes a Senior, and she "passed the torch" to me.

Oh, my goodness. Even now, it just put a lump in my belly!

The pressure!

She passed these to me, as I still have several years to go in the Panther Stands.

Oh, sweet Wendy. I treasure them so, and I thank you for loving me as much as you have in these past years. I can only hope that my two sweet guys turn out half as wonderful as yours.
-----

So, I knew that I had to wear them to the games, so I added the Panther to my necklace!

And I am so very much in love with it! I can't wait to sport it at every game!

My rear view...

I was ok.
No really. I was.
He hugged me. I wished him a great day. I took lots of pictures. And they both let me.

No arguing. No complaining. They know me. They "get" me.

And Chap and I got in my car. And he got in his. And as we approached the high school. I got a big lump in my throat. Knowing that I wasn't dropping him off for this monumental day.
Day one. Senior year.

And then.
I glanced in my rear view. And I spotted him.
All on his own.
And man.....
It got me.

Like such a perfect picture.
He's growing up. He's gaining independence. And isn't that what I had hoped for.
Isn't this what you spend those early years doing? Teaching lessons of independence.
But then. In my rear view.
So very appropriate.
It was like I saw it all in a glance. All in my rear view.
Kindergarten. And Mrs Whitten. And tying shoes. And learning letters. And making school projects. And junior high. And field days. And lunch boxes.
There it all is.
All wrapped up in that white Ford Explorer.
Goodness I'm so thankful for the sweet guy he is. And how much he loves me, and loves Jesus, and loves life in his own quiet way.
But as I watched him zip into that parking lot, it was more than I could take.
Praying. With all that is within me, for the best year ever.

I am ok with being "that mom".....

It's 3:42 am. And I can't sleep.
As I sit pouring over photos, looking thru the BAZILLION pictures that I took during Football Season, I can't help but remember how many times the guys whined like baby girls :

"come on, don't take another picture"
"hey, look, there's Smith's mom again, with the camera"
"Oh my gosh, you are NOT taking a picture of that"

And then last night, as I took some pictures to a mother, grieving the loss of her 18 year old, and teammate of Mason's.....I can't help but hear that over and over in mind.

As I gave her the pictures. One by one. Because she couldn't handle more than one at a time.
She touched them. She held them. She rubbed his face. She cried out with a voice that no mother should ever project.
And at that very moment, with the trembling in her lips, she said "this is all I have left"
It chills my arms as I type.

This. Is. All. I. Have. Left.

Yes, isn't it true.

No one wants to have their picture taken. And no one wants to be IN a picture. And NO ONE, and I mean NO ONE wants to see "that mom" coming with camera quick at the ready on my shoulder.

But, then, in the end, it's all you have left. Yes, you have your memories. But they jump out at you if they are captured in a photo.

You can see their twinkle in their eye. You can see the way that one little hair always curled wrong. You can see that scar from when they fell riding their bike, and you were so sad that they would have a scar. And now you are so thankful for that scar, because it shows character.

And so, as I approach Mason's Senior Year, and all of the memories that lie ahead, already in progress, and soon a part of his past, and then Chap quickly approaching....I think my motto for the next few years will be this....

Watch out boys, am 100% ok with being "that mom"
Now lemme go stock up on a few memory cards :)

The summer of lasts....starts right now!

 

As we watched the graduates of 2012 walk the field tonite, I was so proud of them. And the people that they don't even know that they are yet.

I also was watching, and soaking it all in......knowing that in LESS than 365 days, my big guy will be walking that same field.

Wrapping it all up. In one nice, and tidy package...with a tassel.

So, let's start RIGHT NOW.

One thing I do know for sure, is this: we have a year of so many emotions and moments ahead of us.

So many firsts. So many lasts. So many ONLYs.

 

Because we don't know what next summer holds, with potential colleges, welcome events, jobs, summer programs, etc

We plan to start right now. Making the most of every single second.

We plan to vacation like never before. We plan to spend lots of time "playing" and enjoying these days, and quite honestly, just spending as much "the 4 of us" time as we can.

Yes, there is lots of work to be done, and lots of things to take care of, but we also want to make the very most of these days as we can.

So, Sweet Summahtime...you are welcome here!!!

Let's do this!

Like sands thru the hourglass...

Nope.
This is not a post for a Soap Opera.

This is a post about this guy. The 16 year old. The Junior in High School.

I can't even believe where I am today.

I look at this picture, and to use the word "surreal" doesn't even begin to capture the magnitude of my emotions.

This guy.

I have this joy, this overwhelming, almost breathtaking joy, just looking a him.

Don't get me wrong, some days he acts like an idiot. And some days, I could punch him in the face. For doing something stupid.

But, to be quite honest, some days it literally takes my breath. At the love I have for him. And the way that I look at him. And I am so incredibly proud of the man he is becoming.

He is not that little boy anymore.

The little boy that LOVED to throw the ball. The little boy that had a skip in his step like I had never seen. The little boy that loved his mama so much. And I never knew that existed.

That little boy has slowly, and very gradually, turned into this young man, that has a heart, and a spirit of gentleness that I simply can't explain.

I love watching him get the door for a lady as we walk into the post office. I love the way he looks at his girlfriend when she is being so very silly. And he smiles, that smile, that I know it runs so deep inside of him.

I love watching him run the basketball down the court, with his tongue stuck out, because he does that when he focuses.

I love watching him laugh at Disney shows, because he sits on the couch with his little brother. I love how they sit in the backseat of the car, and share a set of earphones, because his little brother is typically too irresponsible to remember to bring a set of his own. I love that.

But, the thing about it is.....that ironically, this growing process happened so.very.gradually, that you never really saw it going from one phase to the next. And now BAM. There it is. He is a man.

But---it seems like I am watching him, like sands thru the hourglass...and he is slipping away...and oh how I do see that. I see it SO VERY FAST...and it's like there's nothing I can do to slow it down. Nothing about it is gradual.

So, as this year begins, and we step into what is called "Senior"...well, I know there will be tears. And I know it will hurt in my gut.

But, I also know that I can cry later, or at night. When he is all tucked in.

So, my plan, and my heart's cry, is to hold on. Clear my eyes. Look up. With a head held high. And embrace each second of this journey.

I want to watch him walk proudly. Play Strong. Study hard. Focus. Dream. And begin to see all that his future holds in store for him.

So, my mental seatbelt is buckled. It looks like it's gonna be a wild ride.....here we go.......