He's the one they all look up to, that first-born of mine.
He loves them. He bosses them. He leads them and teaches them.
He is the one they want to be like, the one they want to notice them, the one they are proud to call brother.
He is smart, funny, responsible, determined, and confident.
(No shortage of confidence here.)
He's growing up so fast.
And yet, there's that small part of him that's still a little boy. A little part that still says, "Watch me." A tiny piece that still needs to know you're there and that you notice.
Last night, he had his first soccer game of the season.
He knew dad had a meeting, and I had rehearsal. He wanted to know how much of his game we would see. I told him I'd be there for the first 15-20 minutes.
"Then I'll score in the first 15-20 minutes."
I smiled. (No shortage of confidence here.)
As I was leaving the game, my friend arrived to watch the rest of the game for me and take him home. I said goodbye and walked to my car. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, my phone rang. I saw her name on the caller ID.
"Please don't tell me he just scored."
"HE SCORED!"
I went to rehearsal wearing a great big smile on my face but sad that I had missed his first goal of the season by just seconds. Was he just thrilled to have scored, or was he sad when he glanced over to the sideline only to see that mom and dad weren't there? I pictured his little beaming face, excited and proud. I pictured his disappointment, that look that breaks a mom's heart. Does a mom ever get passed the worries for her children?
Rehearsal went great. It ended late. I knew he would be in bed when I got home, but I wanted to know how the game went. On my way home, I called my friend.
"How did it go?"
"It was great. They KILLED 'em!"
I beamed proud. That's just what a mommy likes to hear.
I got home. They were all tucked in snug. It had been a long day, a busy day. No lunch. Dinner on the run. I wanted a glass of milk. I opened the fridge to the best gift in the world.
That sweet one of mine, the one with the sensitive heart, had left me a little present.
My friend had taken him to McDonald's to grab some dinner after the game. Normally, I'd come home to find a half-finished drink melting on the counter. But for some reason, he saved the rest of his drink for me. He knows I have a weakness for an ice-cold soda, but I think he knew it had been hard for me to miss his game. I think it was his little sensitive heart saying, "It's o.k. Mom." My heart melted and puddled at my feet. That boy loves his mommy!
The white piece of paper and those two little words healed my disappointment and chased all my worries away.
I went to bed content, knowing he had survived another day with me as his mom. I hadn't broken his heart or shattered his dreams. He'd be o.k., and I'd have more opportunities to be the screaming mom on the sidelines. Next time, he may wish mom had just stayed home!
Today, I'm unwrapping the gift of a boy's love for his mom @ Chatting at the Sky. Read what others are unwrapping today.
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