It keeps popping up and not just once, but numerous instances. And it’s not just one day, it’s each day that it’s posted on my calendar. And it’s not just one calendar, it’s numerous calendars, but they are inextricably linked together, so to make the change is really a simple fix. It is just one click. It’s painless, not at all time consuming, and I’ll be able to move on with life in this era of “new normal”, but I don’t do it. I don’t bother to make the change, I just see them and then I dismiss them, allowing for the reminder to still nag at me each time. I don’t know why I don’t just go in and cancel every sports practice, every afterschool enrichment activity, every church event, every camping trip, every concert, every event that was on my calendar before this age of social distancing. When they come up, I often say to myself, “Amy, you should just cancel these,” but I don’t. It’s like I want that constant reminder of what we WOULD have been doing as a family. It’s like I want to have that incessant sick feeling of disappointment at all the opportunities my boys could have had. The most recent disappointment: Dabo Swinney Football Clinic.
As I’m typing this blog, I just received the reminder about what would have been flag football practice tonight for my boys. I see it right now. It’s staring at me, menacingly, almost as if it’s laughing at me. That’s not possible, I’m aware, but I still feel it all the same.
My husband and I were discussing this last night. Life has gotten a little bit easier with the country’s stay at home order, at least for us. I’m blessed to work for a company that allows me to work remotely. My children have access to everything they need for school. We’re not rushed every morning to run out the door, breakfasts half eaten, and a house in complete disarray. We’re not eating through our lunch breaks at work, so that we can leave work 30 minutes early in order to get the boys picked up from school and fed before all of their extracurricular activities. We have the time to just slow down and enjoy life, to breathe, to have dinner as a family EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. My husband plays football with the boys every night after dinner until it gets dark. We have family movie nights on the weekends on the big screen and projector outside. Our house is the most put together it’s been since before we had children. For the most part, this is actually working for us, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss our life before.
For the most part, my husband and I do well with social distancing. We’re not as extroverted as others and don’t crave social interaction as often. We miss our friends. We miss our cook outs with groups of friends. We miss our date nights, but we’re making it. Still, in spite of the fact that we’re doing well right now, I still want those calendar pop ups to remain. I want those reminders of what we could have had. Perhaps it’s my self-deprecating personality? Perhaps I’m nostalgic? Who knows, but oops, look a there…another pop up reminder has just flashed across my screen. I hit the accept button and continue with daily life, not bothering to just delete it altogether.
One day this mentality will change for me, but for now we are getting by.
Enjoying a Zac Brown Band concert in the backyard.
Doing our best to replace the missed concert experience with a pre-recorded Zac Brown Band concert in the backyard.
That’s what I heard that Wednesday morning as I prepped the boys and myself for another long day of work and school. I thought to myself, “it IS just too much as well, my son,” but that’s life. Of course, I was completely unaware as to what my darling Spawn #1 was possibly referring to.
For months, especially since the start of this school year, I’ve gone into work utterly exhausted, mentally not physically, due to the constant bickering between my two children as we sit in carline. I work a fairly unflexible job, but one that allows me to work the hours of 7:30 – 4:30. To be at work by 7:30, I have to drop my children off at school as soon as the bell rings and even then I’m still frantically trying to make it through morning rush hour traffic to be at work on time. In most cases, I was coming in HOT and I mean literally and figuratively. Side note, I blame the “literally” portion of this on my apparent pre-menopause. Getting old stinks! Back to my story….
Most of those mornings we were leaving our house at 6:45 am in order to be one of the first 4 in carline. Let’s take another aside here…If I was not one of the first 4, then I would be stuck behind the other parents and most of those in carline are some of the most inconsiderate and disrespectful individuals! No wonder our society is dissipating so quickly! So, again, back to my story…
I would sit in carline from 6:50 until 7:10 every morning. That’s a mere 20 minutes, but in the world of a mother with two boys aged 6 & 8, 20 minutes is more like a torturous eternity. I found myself yelling at my children, attempting to separate them, trying to reason with them, everything and anything you could possible do with 2 terrorists who have no desire to be maintained. Needless to say, I needed to come up with another alternative to morning carline…enter the school bus.
I rode the school bus when I was in school, mostly middle and high school up until 10th grade when I gratefully attained my drivers license. I hated the school bus. I hated getting up every morning and getting on a bus at 6:20. Yes, I said 6:20. Back when I was growing up, the town I lived in had only one high school, a 20 minute drive in the OPPOSITE direction of where my parents worked. So, my parents put me on the school bus. I swore to myself that I would never put my children through this misery, but alas I broke my promise to myself.
After the start of the new year and much discussion with my husband, we decided it would be best to put the boys on the bus in the morning. I found out that our stop was the last stop before getting the boys to school. Much unlike my nearly hour and a half that I spent riding the bus, my children would have a mere 5-10 minutes on the bus. The added benefit was that we could save an extra 15 minutes in the morning as well since I no longer had to leave the house at 6:45. All in all, it seemed like a great idea.
The week we decided to put the boys on the bus was the week of January 13th, the same week of the National Championship game between my beloved Clemson Tigers and LSU. Spawn #1, being at an age where he can appreciate and enjoy football more, was allowed to stay up until half time. Of course, my husband and I had to wake him and tell him the painful news of the loss by Clemson. We were met with incessant sobs and an attack of, “it’s all your fault Clemson lost. You made me go to bed at half time and if I had stayed awake we would have won!” Highly unlikely, my child, we were outplayed by a much better team, but how do you console an inconsolable child? My husband and I took our fault and went about our day.
Move forward to the following day, Wednesday, January 15th…the first day on the bus, and we had not exactly communicated that to our children. On top of that piece of information, we had one more thing to tell the first Spawn, something that we knew might break his football loving heart. Luke Kuechly, of the Carolina Panthers, had announced his retirement from football the night before. Did I know that all of this would be a bit much for my 8 year old? Of course not! Why would anyone ever think this was going to be too much, especially in a world with far worse things occurring on a daily basis? Oh to be able to see the world through a child’s eyes.
As my husband and I awoke the Spawn and helped him get ready for school, we told him about Luke Kuechly. The breakdown the day before from Clemson’s loss should have been some sort of warning to me. I should have known what my child could take and what he couldn’t. I guess I don’t know my child after all, because he took Luke Kuechly’s retirement almost as hard if not harder than the outcome of the National Championship game. There was a lot of flailing about, a lot of “what am I supposed to do now?’ I mean one would think that he was the owner or general manager of the Panthers franchise and the retirement was going to be a direct impact to his well being. Again, to see the world through a child’s eyes.
As my children sat at the kitchen counter eating breakfast, I told them that today would be the day they ride the bus to school. My oldest one looked at me and I watched the tears well up in his eyes, “it’s just too much, mom!”
“What’s just too much? What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Can we do this bus thing next week?” he asked.
“No, we can’t,” I replied. “What’s going on?”
“This! What you’re doing to me it’s just too much,” he sobbed. “It’s too much in one week! First Clemson loses, then you tell me Luke Kuechly is retiring, and NOW you’re putting me on a school bus! It’s just too much, mom!”
Wow! I’ll admit part of me had to stifle a laugh, cover my face and turn around so he wouldn’t see my amusement at his obvious pain. After composing myself, I turned back around and apologized but I told him I had faith in him. I knew he could handle it. He didn’t quite see it the same way and after a few minutes of moping around and sobbing, my second Spawn walked up to him and said, “Suck it up and get on the bus!” Yes, that would be the 6 year old.
In the end, we found that riding the bus isn’t so bad. They both seem to enjoy it and while we experience our days, mostly of my personal mom guilt for putting my children through something I swore they would never have to do, in the end it seems to be the right decision. Of course, I’m sure we’ll soon be experiencing something new to cause life to be “just too much”.
Y’all know me and most of you know me well. My blood isn’t your typical red, my blood runneth orange. If you’ve read my blog in the past, then you should know this. I’ve even had a couple of nurses tell me my blood has an orange tint to it! Ok, perhaps, I’m pushing it just a bit, but for most people who’ve met me, it’s pretty obvious I’m a diehard Clemson fan.
The Clemson Occulus.
Yesterday, my husband and I took our boys to Clemson, SC to visit the illustrious and intimidating Memorial Stadium, better known as Death Valley where the Tigers play. It was Fan Day, an opportunity that allowed for the chance to meet the football team and to get their autographs. It was also a time for mama here to reminisce about her so-called “glory days” and to get my boys drawn into that wonderful culture with seas of orange and purple.
They loved seeing all of the huge tiger paws everywhere.
We’ve been to Clemson before with the boys, even taking them to a couple of football games last year. Davey and I have been to see the Homecoming floats on Bowman Field well before the days of Henry. Davey’s even been to a basketball game in Littlejohn, all be it, still in the womb. It’s something I’ve dreamt about since I first became pregnant, getting my boys inundated with Clemson early, and getting them to love it as much as I do. Yesterday was just the key to that!
Davey in front of the Tiger at Gate 1.
When we arrived in Clemson, I giddily navigated my husband around town, pointing out various structures, in total awe at the number of new buildings being constructed and even shedding a tear for Clemson House, which will soon be demolished for more student housing. My boys were anxious to get out of the car, to be on that sacred Clemson ground to explore, so we had to find a parking space quickly. We managed to arrive three hours early, but that didn’t seem to be good enough as most people had been there two or three hours more! We walked around the stadium, pulling out our map before making our way to the West End zone, where we’d hoped to get in line and get an autograph from Deshaun Watson, our star quarterback and I’m convinced Heisman winner for this season. Unfortunately for us, it was apparent that you needed to arrive by 5 AM if you wanted to get Deshaun’s autograph. The line snaked from the gate at the top of the hill, winding is way down the hill, beneath the occulus, towards the police station, before looping back up the hill and towards the cemetery. My husband and I dutifully waited in line, in the ravaging heat, while our boys made friends and played soccer. A little side note, it makes me extremely happy and proud to see my boys able to go up to children who they don’t even know and start playing. It makes me feel as if I’ve done something right.
The line for Deshaun.Davey making friends.
Checking out Howard’s Rock and Death Valley.
Asweat drenched hour later, a member of the football staff began walking the line and at a cutoff, literally five people in front of us, he informed us that it was highly unlikely we’d get Deshaun’s autograph. My husband, appearing a bit dejected as he had hoped for that signature on the boys’ footballs most of all, began to reevaluate our situation. We walked around the stadium again, enjoying for the first time what felt like a nice Fall breeze, and surveyed the lines at the other gates before deciding to stay in the shade and wait to meet the linebackers. So for an hour and a half, while our kids ran up and down the steps of Gate 9, and played Angry Birds, we waited.
Checking out Howard’s Rock and Death Valley.
Finally, at 2:30 precisely, the gates swung up and the wave of fan crashed and spilled through, like water rushing through broken levees. Dave took Davey and immediately got in line, while I threw Henry on my shoulders and surged forward towards the free autograph books and the posters. A few moments later, after finding Dave we got in line and waited once more to finally meet some of the players.
Getting autographs.
Dave give each of our boys their footballs and we explained what they needed to do. Henry took to the task at hand, quickly placing his football in front of each player before moving on. He made me smile. He had been given a job and he was doing it with much perseverance, even at times trying to usher those in front of us along, my efficient little boy. Davey; however, was a bit more meticulous and careful with his job, gently placing his football in front of the players and at times showing where he wanted each signature. He’s a bit OCD like his mother.
A future NFLer, Christian Wilkins.
We only had the opportunity to make it through one line, as the lines were atrociously long. The sky has also begun clouding up, with dark gray clouds coming in off of the lake. We knew our time was limited and I’d promised my boys they could do something.
More autographs.
Since the first days of Davey watching Clemson play, he’s been enamored with the hill. For those of you who are unaware, there is something called The 25 Most Exciting Seconds in College Football. Our players get off a bus at the top of the hill in the East Endzone. They then rub Howard’s Rock, a rock given to Coach Frank Howard from Death Valley, California by one of his former players. It’s a bit of a good luck piece and a reminder from Coach Howard, “If you’re going to give 110 percent, you can rub that rock. If you’re not,keep your filthy hands off of it.” After rubbing the rock, the players then run down the hill into Death Valley to the Tiger’s fight song, Tiger Rag, the song that shakes the southland. Any and every time, Davey gets the opportunity to see this, he stops and watches. At two, he told me, “mama, I run down that hill one day.” I’m not going to lie, it brought a tear to my eye.
I’ve waited to have a picture like this for a long time. Me in my happy place, with one of my favorites.
So, yesterday, with the breeze kicking up and the thunder rumbling in the back ground, I took the boys to the top of the hill and let them run down it, not once, but twice. For Davey, I think it was truly the greatest. For Henry? Well,right now, whatever big brother does, he feels he must do as well.
Henry waiting his turn.
With that little treat out of the way, we began to leave the stadium just as the announcer came on and told people to get inside the stadium concourses, lightning had been detected only a few miles away. We made it to our car just as the rain started coming down. Not eager to leave this place I love so much, I told my husband I would take over the driving, and I used the opportunity to drive us through portions of campus, allowing waves of nostalgia to crash upon my heart’s shore.
Carlos Watkins was a favorite of both boys.
As we drove by various buildings, I would call them out to the kids. “Look that is Fernow Street Café. Mommy used to eat lunch there, and that building over there, well it was my favorite, it’s Cooper Library. And that building, why it’s Hardin Hall, where mommy had all of her history classes and the one right next to it? That’s Brackett Hall, where I took all of my political science classes. And look at that big clock tower, that’s Tillman’s Hall. Do you know they have something like a huge piano inside where you can play Tiger Rag for all of Clemson to hear? We then made our way downtown, where I pointed out Judge Kellar’s General Merchandise store, that’s been around way longer than I have, and Tiger Town Tavern where I spent most Friday afternoons. I showed them where I used to live and how you could get a pizza and PBR at Backstreets on Monday nights for a $1. There was the old movie theater, where I first saw U571 for $1. While I enjoyed Fan Fest, this was truly more exciting for me, showing all 3 of my boys about the few years of my life, that rank as some of the greatest.
Our task complete.
Our day in Tiger Town complete, we decided to make our way back home, the giddiness starting to wear down and wear on me. Truth be told, I was like a kid at Christmas all morning, much like I am every time we are going to Clemson. It’s a magical place, full of wonder and excitement, adventures and memories to be made. Joe Sherman was right when he penned “There’s Something in These Hills.”
I’ve never been a mother to a little girl and it appears I never will be. And you know, I’m ok with that. Not that I think little girls are bad, I just think I’m more suited to be a mother to boys and here’s my list of why.
1. Growing up as a girl, myself, and teaching little girls, there seems to be less drama with boys. I can’t recall my brother ever causing my dad to wait up with his shotgun in hand when he was on a date.
2. Watching last week’s Today Show with One Direction performing only further solidified my happiness with being a mother to boys. I can only imagine what my parents thought when I would squeal at the sight of New Kids on the Block. My head hurts just remembering.
3. Sports, sports, and more sports…more specifically FOOTBALL. I can’t even begin to describe my excitement with the thoughts of Saturday and Sundays sitting in front of a television or at a stadium, with my boys all decked out in our jerseys as we cheer on our teams. Some women look forward to shopping with their daughters. I look forward to the trash talking (all harmless) while we yell at refs, eat our wings and pizza, and celebrate our victories.
4. Clothing is easier. Alright, alright…I know there are exceptions to this rule, but for the most part I don’t foresee my boys spending hours critiquing whether their shoes go with their hairstyle.
5. Finally…having recently shopped for a little girl, I find it to be a lot more fun to buy toys for boys and even to play with them. I’ll take a Transformer any day over a Barbie.
I’ve heard the whole “girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice,” while “boys are made of snakes and snails and puppy dog tails,” but I gotta say puppy dog tails are just precious.
I know the good Lord could still at some point give me a daughter, but right now I’m thankful He’s only given me boys. Don’t think this Mama could parent a little girl, at least not well.
Dreaming Of Mommyhood 