2:23 A.M. Ramblings

I've been thinking in fragments. Expressing myself in incomplete sentences. I either fixate on the big picture with few juicy details or else I'm overwhelmed by the minutia...the rich shards of rapid fire sensory experiences...unable to synthesize the random bits and pieces. Either I have a compelling main idea...a convincing topic sentence, or nothing but supporting points and nitty gritty. All meat and potatoes, and no gravy. Strong nuts and bolts, yet no essence of expression. It feels something like stuck, and it doesn't feel good.

It's like the dream that woke me moments ago in the middle of the night and in the middle of my REM sleep. My Mom was on the 7th floor, but the elevator only went to the 6th. There were no stairs. There was no possible way to reach the 7th floor. This is the second time in as many nights I've had this dream. One doesn't need a psychology degree to analyze that one. Can you feel my frustration? Is it palpable?

Yet my prayers were answered twice in the last 24 hours. (I must confess that lately my prayers are more like wishes.) First, I prayed for rain so baseball would be cancelled all the while knowing I wouldn't be getting Mom of the year for preferring my couch to the stands. The rain came baby, only just a little early. Miss Bit's first game of the season was a go. My girl got 3 solid hits, and wondered aloud why she could only take first. "That's weird," she decided. When the game was over, she declared a victory despite the fact that every kid on both teams ran around the bases 3 times. I didn't object to her claim because I'm rather in agreement that it's about time for the everyone is a winner and everyone is a great ball player to end. At some point, these sweet and adorable kids need to start learning how to actually play baseball, not how to play nice. At this point in his baseball career, T. Bone was already being groomed for the infield.

Later I prayed for a Sox victory. That one was delivered right on time thank you kindly. We played a team with which we have a heated rivalry so the win was extra sweet and tasty. For the record, the good guys won. It had much to do with the way the team is coming together after a couple of games of real play, and also with the coaching. The coach just happens to be my man you know. Oh, and if you were sitting in the stands cheering the Sox on, you might also gather that T. Bone is largely responsible. I kid you not that I heard, was told or asked the following:

• As he pitched the last inning living up to his moniker, The Closer: What do you give him? He's so poised and calm on the mound? (That from a Mom who had just confessed that she recently started taking antidepressants.) Let's see. Before the game he had a bowl of mac & cheese and a helping of fruit salad with a glass of milk.



• He's E.'s hero. Who am I kidding, he's our hero too. Woa Nelly...he's a 10 year old little league player!



• Someday I just know we're going to see him in the MLB. Well, actually he's not sure that he doesn't want to play for the NFL or NBA yet. We'll keep you posted, but don't come out of the woodwork for any tickets now you hear.



• Beside being a great athlete, he's such a nice, nice kid and a great team leader. Thank you, you do know his Dad, right?



• Is there anything he's not good at? Actually, setting deadlines, percents, remembering to not only clear the table, but put away the dishes too, being patient, being quiet, often being nice to his sister oh and not winning so just you wait.



• I think he and my daughter have a thing. You know they're sitting next to each other for the 4th time this year? Can he come over and play after school tomorrow? As long as you supervise them and promise not to rush them off to get hitched because I don't know if you noticed or not, but his real true love is baseball...and his Mom.

Sitting there subject to all this flattery and flapdoodle, I recognize that my son is an amazing ball player and an all around great kid, but that's just it...he is a kid. Hello! These parents are putting a whole lot of pressure on a 10 year old boy and he puts plenty enough pressure on himself. I'm not going to lie: tonight he made it look easy to strike out the other team 1,2,3. Ok, and he also had a couple solid hits and he knows where to be when, but that's beside the point. He's calm, cool and collected because a. he's winning b. he knows what to do and c. he's confidant that he can do it because he's done it again and again and again. Don't dare say I never spilled any secrets of success here for you.

I'm always sitting in the stands beaming with pride with white knuckles and one eye closed. It's the story of my life. It's part of being a Mom and #1 cheerleader. And on that note, I suppose I should get some more sleep so I am ready and able to play front row fan again tomorrow. Truthfully, there's no place I'd rather be...not even my couch.