This afternoon I stood in line with a group of ten and eleven-year-old boys all wearing their royal blue baseball uniforms. They chatted nervously as we snaked through the long line. They fidgeted and fussed, trying desperately to be patient. Coach McMurray discussed who would and would not be able to attend the upcoming tournament. Boys responded with talk about family vacation plans. Evan, my son, could not stand still. I placed what I hoped was a calming hand on his shoulder and steered him around the final turn in the line. Suddenly the boys were all quiet. They moved ahead slowly, in a nice straight line. A group of children of varying ages, all wearing matching shirts with the number eleven on the back, patted the boys from Evan's team on the back as they shuffled past. We stood before the man and his wife as they dabbed at their eyes. The man wished the boys luck heading into the last games of the season. Nick, number eleven on Evan's team, lay in the casket draped with shirts from the many teams on which he had played. Several of the boys started to cry. Evan turned around to me and said, "I bet Nick gets to hit a grand slam every day in heaven."

Fifteen years is a long time. Matt and I celebrated fifteen years of marriage together this week. We were a couple for six years before we decided to take the plunge. So for twenty one of the forty one years I have been alive, I have been with Matt. There have been ups and there certainly have been downs. Just this week I have really come to the conclusion that what really matters in my world is that we are together. Nobody else can begin to understand what it means to raise our children. It is all too easy to get lost in paying the bills, doing chores around the house, not losing ourselves to our careers, earning a master's degree, running errands, trying to remember how to do junior high math, renovating our 110 year old house, juggling doctor, dentist, and orthodontist appointments, and well - life. Under all of that are four little human beings who need us. It's okay if there are dirty dishes in the sink, laundry folded and piled in baskets, crumbs on the floor, or toys everywhere. As long as the kids have everything they need from us, the rest will get done eventually. I will even get around to finishing my mid-life crises someday.

I don't even notice it anymore.

There is a big hole in the ceiling of the mud room in my house. It happened years ago when our roof began to leak. We, of course, did not know the roof was leaking. The plaster ceiling developed a blister which evolved into a bubble which transformed into a bulge until there were bowls and buckets catching the water dripping into my house. We fixed the leak, then Matt cut a nice rectangular hole in the ceiling and used the staple gun to afix some thick plastic sheeting over the hole as a "temporary" fix. Our home is 110 years old and that hole is not one of the major issues on our list of things to do around here. I mentioned the hole to my husband in passing the other day and he remarked that he doesn't even notice it anymore. This hole is about 3 feet by 2 feet - not a small hole. How could anyone not notice it?

That made me wonder about the many little imperfections about myself that I could fix with just a bit of effort. Have I simply chosen not to notice them because that is the easy way out? I am going to choose three things I don't like about myself and make an effort to fix them. I'm not talking about things that will require any type of regiment to change (the cellulite on my upper thighs is another matter for another day) but simply things I can easily change. My three:

1. I never call my friends. I always assume they are too busy with their fascinating lives that do not revolve around diapers and Doritos to have time to simply chat with me. That may actually be true, but they can simply tell me that and I will talk to them another time.

2. I never write letters to my mom. She LOVES to get mail. She wrote me a letter nearly everyday my freshman year of college and two or three times a week for the rest of my days at Ohio University. A little note or a photo of the kids would put a smile on her face that would last for a week.

3. I never stay awake to hang out with my husband when he gets home from work. Matt and I are a swing-shift couple. Even though it is summer and I don't have to go to work, I still maintain my school year hours. Granted, I do have to get up and get Jillian ready for school in the mornings, so I still have to set the alarm and drag myself out of bed. I could, however, get up when I hear Matt pull the car into the driveway. What normally happens is I hear him, get out of Jillian's bed where I nearly always fall asleep, and move to our bed for the next four hours. What I should do is go downstairs and keep him company - even if it is just for half an hour. (This may be the toughest one!)

Tomorrow I begin!!

Waiting. Watching. Waiting. Worrying. Ugh!

I am lucky enough to work in a profession that gives me my summer days to spend with my children. One would think that would be the best thing about being a teacher. It does rank right up there - yet there is a down side. Currently that is my inability to stop watching for any signs of autism in my youngest child. She is about to turn two years old - a scary time on the autism spectrum. I don't think she is autistic and yet...I watch little things she does and I worry. I try not to let these concerns taint the experience of watching her grow.

I thought I was done having children a long time ago. When Sophia came along I embraced her arrival as an opportunity to enjoy raising a child without having other babies around at the same time. I thought I could relax and revel in rearing this little person - as a parent with experience. I thought wrong. This is not going to happen. Autism will not take anything else from my family. From this point on we will laugh at her little toddler eccentricities and simply soak them up. They are part of Sophia. They are just the result of her sweet little personality. She LOVES us. We LOVE her. No matter what.

Let's Make A Deal!

Today I bargained with God. This fascinates me in that half of the time I don't even believe there is a God and the other half of the time I am so angry with God that I don't have time to engage in a meaningful two-way dialogue with the deity. Nonetheless, I made a deal. My concern is, if I don't live up to my end of this bargain, is the deal off? I made some hefty promises and keeping them is going to be beyond difficult. Not having the deal remain intact is not an option. So much for a summer of ease!