Dear Miles,
It’s the end of the school year which means I’m a crazy lady running around for all the school activities, sports, music, you name it. In addition, I’ve also started working again part-time so I’m a bit more frazzled than you’re used to. No? I’ve always been a walking trainwreck? When we returned from our trip to Europe, basically everything hit fast forward and although you probably don’t notice anything from your day-to-day life that consists of Legos and basketball, I can assure you that your Dad and I are feeling it.
Baseball season is wrapping up and once again you had an incredible season. You’re an extremely athletic child and never seem to have trouble picking up a sport and doing it well. You’re constantly trying to improve yourself and are always likely to be trying out some move you saw on television. We play catch constantly because if you’re bored and no friends are available to play, playing catch is your go-to activity. Well, that and basketball. You rocked first base this year and you were pretty confident in your ability compared to the majority of others. You proudly would display to whomever would look in your direction, the count on your hands of how many runners you got out at first. You were visibly upset the day you couldn’t show two hands worth of outs.
We interrupt this baseball moment to strike a pose
Catcher Miles
We went to Little League day again at the A’s stadium and it was loads better from last year’s experience. We walked the field and you had a chance to shake Khris Davis’s hand. Dad ripped your hat off your head and tried to have him sign it for you but the A’s staff around him was pretty adamant that we all keep it moving. You were a little confused by the whole experience but your dad and I thoroughly enjoyed the encounter. We had a lot of time to kill before the game so we walked through the stadium and allowed you and sister to have a go at the batting cage. Sure enough, you hit the bullseye with your hit and won an adult XL shirt. You will be able to proudly enjoy your shirt in thirteen years. A few of your teammates were also at the stadium so you had fun sitting with them and stealing each other’s snacks. The party got a little crazy when a couple of your teammates started removing articles of clothing. All in the name of boyhood, right?
Walking the field
Future right fielder
Teammates
Owning the batting cage
Basketball is another sport that you have surprisingly embraced. Perhaps there is some influence from our Warriors doing well and everybody talking about them or maybe it’s from your days playing on the Junior Warriors basketball league. No matter the reason, you are obsessed. Whether you’re playing basketball with the small hoop that hangs off the back of your bedroom door, or the Little Tikes plastic hoop or a planter, if you’re not playing baseball, you most likely have a basketball in your hand. Most of your fashion now consists of pulled up athletic socks with giant basketball shorts. Damn, I miss the days when I had a say in your fashion attire. My favorite outfit by far is your athletic socks, basketball shoes and the conservative chino shorts. You really walk the fine line between genius and hobo.
The saddest basketball hoop there ever was
Last weekend, we had a little downtime on the weekend which is shocking because I feel those are as elusive as a purple unicorn. I’ve always wanted to go to the Maker Faire in the south bay but every year, something is always happening on the same weekend so I never get to go. I was determined to take full advantage of our spare time and make it once and for all. We arrived and this faire is very popular, so popular that we had to park in a residential neighborhood and walk at least twenty minutes to the entrance. The cost to get in was ridiculous (think price of an amusement park) and the people, oh goodness, so many people. Your Dad doesn’t handle crowds at all so he immediately became bitter. Once I was able to get everyone feed and liquored up (Ryan) we were able to walk through and do some exploring. I’ll admit that most of the booths were geared for older kids so despite paying the exorbitant fee, there wasn’t much that captured yours and Olivia’s interest. The highlight of the faire was hands down the bowling and the amazing custard/ice cream combo we devoured. Well, the rest of us devoured it while you insisted on slurping yours with a teeny tiny tea spoon. Even though you wore more that you ate, you seemed to enjoy it.
We returned from the maker faire and stopped in at a new comic book store in Pleasanton after Olivia asked if she could get one after enjoying a few at school. Dad jumped at the opportunity to show you all the comic books he knows and loves. You probably weren’t as excited as Dad would have hoped but you took your time perusing the store until you found issue 1 and 2 of XMen. Afterwards, we walked a few businesses down to a new family-friendly beer garden. Did I mention it’s family friendly and they serve beer? We were all pretty exhausted from our long day so we sat back and relaxed as you and Olivia read your comics and Dad and I enjoyed a well-deserved beverage.
Happiness
When we finally made it home, I was ready for you two to turn it so I could finally put my feet up and relax. You and Olivia were playing in the backyard as I was preparing your bath. I had called you in to go first when you decided to throw your shoes down right next to the shelf where we put our shoes. I asked you to pick up your shoes and put them where they belong. With a long sigh and a toss of your head, you threw your weight forward where I heard a loud crack against the staircase bannister. You lifted your head up and right in the middle of your forehead was a nice slice. You started crying and immediately, the blood started pouring out of the cut. I took a closer look at it and you managed to cut it good and deep. I’m not one to panic but I was fairly sure this would require stitches. I ran to the backdoor trying not to get blood everywhere and I yell to Olivia to get Dad. He comes rushing in and I tell him everything that has just happened. I run upstairs to change because I thought I was ten minutes away from a couch vacation. I hurry back downstairs, prepared to whisk you away to urgent care when Dad begins to argue his case against stitches.
It’s a Saturday night so he knows I’m going to be in urgent care for hours and we have private insurance which means it doesn’t cover anything so most likely, these three stitches will cost us hundreds of dollars. He’s adamant he can fix this with Neosporin and butterfly bandages. I’m irate because I truly believe you need stitches and your dad isn’t supporting me in my belief. I eventually gave in and allowed your Dad to play doctor. I went to bed that night angry and worried. We’ve since removed the bandages and you will most likely have a fabulous scar but you survived to tell the tale and I have a few extra hundred dollars in my pocket. Clearly, I’m not entirely over it as last night I had a dream that your cut started bleeding again and when I touch it, it opened up to show a hollow head with a single bone. Brainless and wounded–my subconscious doesn’t think highly of you.
Parenthood is an ever evolving job. One job that I continue to struggle with. It’s difficult when you talk to me in questions and I end up screaming at you because I have no idea why you continue to do so. You’re in the “what if” stage which by the way, nobody warned me at all about. Basically, any idea that pops in your head you ask a “what if” question and they’re completely absurd but you’ll continue to ask until we answer. When our answers aren’t sufficient, you continue to ask more questions. It’s a vicious cycle and more times than not, I find myself utterly exhausted. I’ll give you an example of what I’m dealing with:
You: “What if black birds flew on a Tuesday?”
Me: “All birds fly on Tuesdays.”
You: “No, no. I’m talking about black birds.”
Me: “All birds, regardless of color or species, fly on Tuesdays.”
You: “But what if they have tiny feet? Do they still fly on Tuesday?”
Me: “GOOD GOD, BOY! YES, EVEN BIRDS WITH SMALL FEET. ALL THE BIRDS FLY. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. AHHHHH!”
You: “What if black birds fly on Thursdays?”
Me: **Turns car into head-on traffic.
And people ask us why we drink.
Love,
Momma
