Oct 26, 2015

I thoroughly enjoyed watching the National League Championship Series this year.
Matt has been a Mets fan as long as I have known him. The fact that a kid from California would become a fan of a notoriously bad baseball team from New York typically requires explanation.
His step-dad grew up in Jersey and was a Mets fan.  Matt followed in his footsteps.

Matt and I went to about 20 Mets games across the East coast, with the Mets as the visiting team, before we finally made it to the Mets' home field in New York, Shea Stadium. The boys were little and had no idea how important the moment was when we stepped into the stadium for the first time.  Matt had "an allergic" reaction when the National Anthem came to an end and the most famous words in baseball were uttered "play ball". The Mets lost that day, as they did often when we watched them play, but the losing streaks, the failure to make it to post season never altered Matt's commitment to his team.  Matt is a Mets fan through and through.
Just a few weeks after we arrived back in the US from Germany Matt and I headed to the closest ballpark to watch his Mets in action after the three year hiatus from America's pastime.

I never really watched baseball when I was growing up, I had no idea how simply perfect the game is.
So with a growing love for baseball and Matt, I too became a Mets fan.
Now, I do root for the Mariners, and I will cheer on the Giants but if either of those teams faced the Mets',  my loyalty is with the Mets.
All that to say, with NLCS was awesome!  The Mets sweep the Cubs and head to the World Series for the first time since 2000.  I distinctly remember that Series too.  The Subway series.  The only thing worse than losing the World Series is losing to the Yankees!!
So Wednesday night, game 4, bottom of the 9th.
Two outs.
3-2 count.
Mets' reliever Familia fires a final pitch to Fowler, its a strike the Mets are going to the World Series and Familia drops to his knees at the base of the pitcher's mound.

Familia looks to the sky, the team goes wild, and race to the mound to celebrate.

Familia dropped to his knees.  I think anyone who watched that moment would agree it wasn't a well thought out plan to go to the turf, it was a raw emotional reaction.
The same reaction has been witnessed time and again.
Runners win a race, a soldier comes home from deployment, exciting news is shared....the knees hit the ground.
The reaction is the same when bad news is delivered.  I got the 3am call that my grandfather died and I was on the ground, on my knees crying out before I could really even process what happened.  People in anguish drop from their chairs and their standing position to the ground below them.

It is seemingly such a natural reaction that our bodies fall to our knees when in great joy and in great pain.  When I watched Familia on his knees I wondered if our bodies were created to go first to our knees in our triumphs and our tragedies.  God created us to go to him first, could that really be played out in something as physical as our bodies dropping to our knees without intention when our mind knows we have something to cry out for?

Oct 18, 2015

I am a bit of a crazy sleeper.
As in, the sheets look like I attempted origami with them in the middle of the night. It really seams impossible that one person could cause such a disaster, but somehow I do it.
When I was younger my mom would find me with my feet up on the wall, laying the opposite way I started in bed or sometimes half off the bed.
I'm super messy and I sleep hard. 
Fair warning: If I am asleep on the couch, do not wake me up.
Its like poking a bear. 
I strongly dislike someone waking me up to tell me to go to bed.
It seriously makes no sense.
It is pretty dangerous to wake me up anytime before 4am.  My brain simply cannot handle the confusion of waking up before my full dose of sleep has been achieved.
So this mix of me sleeping like the Tasmanian devil and not waking up well causes some problems sometimes when I go to bed before Matt.

Allegedly, last night I was sleeping pretty hard and when Matt came to bed he found me startfish-pose across every inch of the bed.
He had to move me over in order to make room for himself on the bed.

Allegedly, he woke me up while shoving me over and I sat straight up in bed and proclaimed "the monkey ate my homework".
He thought I must have been messing around and responded "I hate that monkey".
He was waiting for me to continue the monkey conversation when he realized I had already rolled over to my side and went back to sleep.

Today Matt relayed this story to me and I almost pulled an ab muscle I was laughing so hard.  I don't know how he didn't pee his pants in laughter last night.  Seriously?  The monkey ate my homework?

So there ya go.

Oct 4, 2015

This weekend was so beautiful. 
The sun was shining, the fall colors are vibrant, and the children were fighting.
Wait what?

For the first time in a while, I looked at my kids, shook my head and said to myself "what did I do wrong?"

The boys were in prime form this weekend fighting and whining and screaming and sassing. The constant complaining and overreacting came to a big giant explosion on Saturday.
It is 5 miles from the baseball field to our house but it felt like 500.  The boys were so rude to each other and literally did not stop arguing for the entire ride home.
I dropped them off at the house and left to get gas.
Thats how bad it was.  
We were already out, driving right by the gas station, but the thought of them being together and/or near me for even 10 more minutes so I could get gas was too much to bear, so I drove home, dropped them off and returned to the gas station.

Once it was finally quiet and I could try and think clearly for a minute my thoughts all ended in one thing: who the heck raised those rude little punks?

I was disappointed in both of them.  Truly, deeply, disappointed. I was disappointed in myself, how did I let them become who they are?

I didn't have the energy or mental fortitude to take them on at the moment.
What would I say even if I did want to settle in for a heart to heart?

For so long my goal with the boys was to teach them.  Teach them how to be respectful, how to work hard, be responsible, live fully, eat healthy, laugh loudly, do their best, love others....  I worried about how to teach them to become great people.
But somewhere along the way I think lessons got derailed.
And now I find myself trying to right the ship, correct the course, figure out where things went wrong.  Praying for my eyes to see the mistakes I made and just hoping I have time to correct them.