You know when the camera is on the sports player and they make the big play and then they smile and wave and say, "Hi, Mom!" My husband always grumbles, 'What about Dad?' Well I may have figured it out, well, I probably already knew, but now I have definitive evidence.
Last week when the JV baseball team had a tournament in the middle of nowhere Oregon, about an hour and 20 min drive, I packed up the other kids on the first day and we prepared to spend the day at the ball park, which we did. It was sunny and 60s, a rare treat for the first day of spring break in Oregon.
The second day the two kids not playing baseball gave me the, "Are you kidding me?" look as I asked them if they wanted to come along. Pouring rain, wind, 40 degrees. So off I went, dressed like I was headed to the mountain to ski, wearing more clothes than anyone should have to this time of year. I tried hard not to have unkind thoughts about my friends in Mexico, Palm Springs and other sunny climes.
By the end of the first game during which there was a complete downpour and hurricane force winds I was frozen and wet. My helpful husband was texting me minute by minute weather radar updates as to when the next downpour would occur. He is so kind!
There was a break in the games so everyone went their separate ways for lunch. When we returned at the prescribed time the game we were to follow was in the 9th inning, high school usually plays 7, and the score was 1 to 1. The field was a mud pit and the rain was coming down in sheets. When the winning run was scored the rain let up slightly. They prepped the field for our game.
Since I had been sitting in the warm and toasty van, knitting away as I waited for the start, I put all of my winter apparel back on, got my umbrella and this time even added a blanket to the ensemble. My husband texted the next weather update, 'all yellow and red on the radar', if you aren't up on the weather radar lingo, that's not good!
The parents headed toward the ball field like lemmings trying to find a spot out of the wind while waiting for the, 'Play Ball!' to be called. Then a true miracle occurred! Who says praying doesn't help? They called the game! Silent rejoicing among the adults. Shuffling back to the van in my fashionable attire my 15 year old caught me up, "Thanks for coming." he said and kissed me on the cheek regardless of who would see. One more wave as he climbed in the car with his friends.
"Hi, Mom!" question answered.