I’m Home. And I am Grateful.

Since coming home from the Book Tour for Mom, Incorporated, my small people have been attached to my hip.  I would love to be tough and tell you it is just them, but really – it is easily as much me as anything else.  I honestly cannot get enough of them.

They aren’t even getting on my nerves when they are fighting.



Well, that’s a lie.  But you know what I mean.  Because, really?  The fighting is ridiculous.  But, other than that – they are divine.  They want desperately to hold my hand, to help me make dinner, to sit next to me on the couch, even to help put laundry away – as long as it is something WITH me. And do you know how many times a day these small people say, “Mommy, you’re so pretty….”?  It is almost like they are seeing me for the first time.

I certainly have moments when I feel like this might be the first time I am really seeing them.  They seem so big.  So grown up.  And so very baby all at the same time.  They are sharing stories, asking questions and talking, talking, talking…. They want my opinion and are dying to share theirs….

Today, Delaney asked, “Mommy….when are you leaving again?”  The joy when I said, “Not any time soon, Baby….” was palpable.

At this moment, I will do anything to see that joy again.  And so…. I am home.  And I am grateful.

A Hall of Fame (Cooperstown) Moment

We all have that one special place that evokes memories of magic.  To some it’s Walt Disney World, to others it’s the mountains or the beach or even their own backyard.  My “place” is a small town in Upstate New York; most know it as the home of the National Baseball Hall of Fame.  Many call it simply “Cooperstown.”

I love this place so much that I named my son after the town.  Cooper now thinks the town is actually HIS personal town.  I’ve explained to him that a very select few are commemorated in this shrine, and for the first time in his short 5-year life, he has met a member of Cooperstown.

This past Monday, State Farm and the Boys and Girls Club of America put on a baseball clinic in conjunction with the 2011 Major League Baseball All-Star Game Festivities.  My wife (@daniellesmithtv) was asked to attend this event.  She was allowed to take her family along for the ride (many thanks to State Farm).  The man putting on the clinic was 1st Ballot Hall of Fame Inductee and former Baltimore Oriole Cal Ripken, Jr.

Cal was to teach a group of kids some of the finer points of hitting a baseball.  Enter the future Cooperstown inductee, Cooper Smith.  Coop stepped to the dish and drilled line drive after line drive into the net.  Ripken looked over to the large group of fans viewing his clinic, and said “He’s a really good hitter.”  Insert a smile on this dad’s face that stretches from Chase Field to Camden Yards.

After Cooper took his rips, Cal gave him a High 5, and the 3-foot-8 well educated baseball historian says to him and I quote “Two-thousand-six-hundred and thirty-two games in a row?  How did you do that?”

Let me pause to explain.  Cal Ripken, Jr. holds the Major League Baseball record for consecutive games played at 2632.  I hold the record for making my 5-year old recite this number on one airplane flight.  It was worth it.  Back to Cal and Coop.

Ripken laughs, takes a soft baseball and tosses it at Cooper.  Cooper grabs the ball (across the seams) and fires it back at him.  They go on to play dodge ball for a few minutes while the local news media focus its cameras as the current and future Hall of Famer trade a game of catch that us mortal, Non Hall-of-Famers could only dream of being a part. (here’s a quick video of the hitting and catching between the two)

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A Baseball Dad reacts to Tragedy at Texas Rangers Game

Photo Credit - AP - Jeffrey Washington

I have a son named Cooper.  He and I love to go to baseball games.  It’s our most favorite thing to do.  I’d love to get a game ball for Cooper some day.  We sit in the bleachers together enjoying our time together, chatting with like minded fans around us, and Coop begs an outfielder to flip him a ball.  He just wants a souvenir from a real live Major Leaguer.  What kid doesn’t?

Prior to Thursday, July 7th, 2011, the preceding paragraph could have been written by me or a Texas Dad named Shannon Stone.

By now, almost anyone reading this post knows the tragedy that occurred at the Texas Rangers baseball game on Thursday night.  39-year old Shannon Stone attempts to catch a ball thrown into the stands by Outfielder Josh Hamilton.  Ball finds his glove, but his momentum carries him over the railing crashing to the concrete 20-feet below.  Stone dies on the way to the hospital.  6-year old Cooper is left without a father.

I, first, heard the news when my sobbing mother called to tell me this morning on my commute to work.  I heard the entire story while listening to ESPN Radio.  Then, I cried to myself as I drove for the next hour.

Our Cooper

All day, I kept thinking about Cooper:  My blond-headed best friend … and Cooper Stone, the 6-year old who just wanted to have fun with HIS best friend, his daddy, at a ball game.  His Dad bought him a new ball glove on the way to the game.  Coop was wearing a Josh Hamilton jersey.  It was all set to be the perfect night for these two best buddies (Dad and Son).

Coop, I feel for you little man.  There are no words I can write to explain why something like this happens.  I’m not going to get all holy here, but I believe in the big fella upstairs, and I’m wondering if God took the night off last night.  Despicable, unthinkable unimaginable, inexplicable things take place everyday, but this just seems so pointless.  Yes, there are zillions of examples of pointless acts of tragedy, but for some reason, this one is like a fastball to the gut.  A dad and his boy at a ballgame.  Dad catches his son a memory.  And, that’s where this story should have ended…the two go home, show mom their ball and put up posters of Josh Hamilton all over Coop’s bedroom.   Instead, there’s not a dry eyed father in the stands tonight at a ballgame; most notably the Dad playing outfield for the Texas Rangers.

I’m going to go watch a game with my boy now.  I love him so much.  I ache for 6-year old Cooper Stone.  I’m so sorry little guy.  I’m just so incredibly sorry for you and your mommy.

Sincerely,

Daddy of another baseball fan named Cooper

 

Happy 5th Birthday Small Dude

I’m not quite sure where the time has gone…  but my sweet small dude turns FIVE today.  FIVE.  It just seems so darn grown up.  And he behaves like a real person now -he asks questions, shares his opinion – and rarely listens to me.

This is a video I’ve done to celebrate my little buddy…

Sometimes it is a whisper

I spend a lot of time wondering if I’m doing it right.

And by ‘it’, I mean parenting.

Why do they speak to me like that? I never did that.  Why do they fight so much?  Ok, I might have fought with my brother *a little*.  Why don’t they listen? Why don’t they clean their rooms?  Or eat their dinners? Feed the dog? Put the toys away? Roll their eyes?

Maybe I’m not any good at this after all.

Sometimes that heavy feeling descends.  I close my eyes and struggle not to buckle under the weight of it.

Other days I get mad, determined to change it all.  They will put their shoes away.  They won’t whine.  They will eat those green beans.

But then there is a whisper.  Like a soft wind lifting my hair from my ear.

If I wasn’t listening yesterday, I might have missed it.

I sat in church next to an older woman and her grown son.  The son sat at the edge of the pew rocking back and forth, unable to make eye contact.  As I directed my four and six year old children through the mass, she did the same, reminding him to kneel, to stand, to pray.

coopwhisperAs the hour drew to a close, she turned to Cooper and started to chat with him…..this was their conversation,

“What is your name?”

“Cooper.”

“How old are you, Cooper?”

“I’m four.”

“Wow, four.  That’s big. (big smile from Coop)  Cooper, this is my son, Gary.”

“Hi, Gary.”

“Gary has problems.”

(I held my breath, afraid of what might spring from my four-year old’s mouth)

Cooper smiled.  Reached out for her hand. Shrugged his itty-bitty shoulders.

“That’s ok, everybody has problems”

I exhaled.

Sometimes the whisper is all I need. And the green beans and the sibling fighting suddenly don’t matter.

Wordless Wednesday- The Small Dude Gets in the Game

He may have only just turned four, but the eye black, baseball pants, and arm band show the small dude’s serious baseball side.

cooptball1

Four Years Ago Today – My Sweet Boy Was Born

His small hand reaches out to me, even as he sleeps.  Sometimes he rests his palm on my shoulder….occasionally he wraps his fingers in my hair.

He just has to know I am there.  And I love that.  In fact, I dread the day that he no longer wants me to snuggle.

Four years ago today, I laughed him into this world.  Literally.

cooper4

I pushed one time, Dr. Cartwright made me laugh and Cooper came flying out.  That wonderful doctor even convinced me to grab my sweet guy under the shoulders and pull him the rest of the way out.

It was spectacular.

I am convinced the way he was born – via laughter – has shaped the happy little guy he is today.

And on this day, your birthday, I celebrate you.

My sweet, small dude,

Every day I am amazed by you.  You illuminate every room you enter – refusing to be intimidated by anyone or anything.  You aim that blue-eyed gaze at kids and adults, making friends, garnering smiles.

From the moment you entered my life, you have made me better.  From the sporadic, “Mommy?  I love you’s” that you sprinkle throughout every day, to your love of holding my hand, I am charmed by you.

If your daddy had written a letter to God before you were born describing the little man he wanted in his life, you match it perfectly.  You are kind – giving hugs and love freely. You laugh and joke easily.  Every day as he comes home, “Daddy, can we play baseball?”.  You would rather watch SportsCenter than cartoons and go page-by-page through Sports Illustrated when it arrives every Wednesday.

coopbaseball

My sweet boy – I hope you never outgrow that special little something that makes you sparkle.

Thank you for the privilege of being your Mommy.

I love you my little buddy.

Love, Mommy