Thanks for the Memories

Stacy's brother Chad loved baseball and collected thousands of baseball cards. On our most recent visit to their parents' house, we decided to see what level of interest Hollis might have in looking through some of them....Ha Ha Ha, little did we know how obsessed with owning and organizing them our little Rain Man would be!

We now have regular sorting sessions such as the one just completed where we put all the players in their team piles, and boy have we stumbled across some gems:

A young Pittsburgh Pirate named Barry Bonds circa 1990, when his head was the size God meant for it to be. A young, svelte Babe Ruth pitching for the Red Sox. A 1970 Rich Gossage rookie card, yes before apparently he earned the nickname "Goose", and before he too was a Yankee (White Sox).

Unfortunately speaking of the Yankees, we also just discovered Jim Leyritz's 1990 rookie card. In fact, 20 years ago this month Leyritz was called up from the minors and 6 years later "The King" as he was nicknamed, would deliver one of the most memorable home runs in postseason history, at least if you're a Braves fan. If you can stomach watching it again go here to refresh your memory.

Meanwhile, Hollis, Jack and I have settled into our Sunday routine of watching baseball, while Stacy prepares to escape to the grocery store, and what do you know the Yankees are playing the Mets on TBS (isn't that just all kinds of wrong?!). I have managed to indoctrinate poor Hollis with an almost visceral disdain for Yankee pinstripes (thanks mainly to Mr. Leyritz), but I informed him a moment ago today we actually have to root for the Yankees (wave of nausea hit me as I said it). We need them to win to keep the red hot 2nd place Mets off the backs of the first place Braves in the NL East.

Former Brave Mark Texiera, just hit a grand slam for the Yankees, and we....cheered (seriously where is the Pepto-Bismol?!)

And if the memories gets any better than this, I don't know that I have enough room left in my Fathers Day full heart to hold them.

Christmas 2009

Immaculate Traditions

For the past 2 years between Thanksgiving and Christmas following dinner we've read bible verses relevant to the birth of Jesus, starting with the prophecies in the old testament, and mercifully moving to their realization in the new testament.

Tonight we read Matthew 1: 18-25 and I realized that for most of my adult life I did not believe in the immaculate conception.  It’s not that I doubted Christ’s divinity, it’s that I didn’t see the necessity for God to do biological intervention to make it happen.  I considered the story necessary political propaganda used by the writers of the gospel to make a point in the only way it could be made in those days (of the “divinely lead” Roman Empire) – that our messiah was/is truly the son of God.

5 years ago this past Sunday I walked into church with no expectation of this intellectual position being melted like chocolate in the summer sun.  The music leading into the sermon was a rendition of Amy Grant’s “Breath of Heaven” , a song I had never heard before, sung beautifully and authentically by a teenage daughter to the piano accompaniment of her father, the music director for the church.  It made Mary’s experience very palpable to me, and suddenly the virgin birth rang true, in my heart more so than my head, but more powerfully in my heart than my head.

Still reeling from how moved I was by that performance, the minister then launched into a message about the miracle birth of Jesus that I never could have been more open to than I was in that moment. 

I can’t remember why Stacy wasn’t with me that morning, but we met for lunch and she had news.  We had been trying to get pregnant for several months and I was at the point where I had to wonder if God knew better than me what I needed, and that a child wasn’t what I needed.    It was a crushing thought but I’d found myself unable to avoid thinking it in those days that lead to this day – the day she discovered she was pregnant.  

We bribe our child’s attention each night with Hershey kisses per verse reading,  and many times we have Christmas music playing in the background.  Tonight, just before we read Matthew 1: 18-25 our Christmas playlist landed on Amy Grant’s rendition of her own song – a rendition that will never live up to version I first heard, on the day I realized we all come from God’s breath.

Faster than 66 Cheetahs

Saturday is a Workday when you’re 4

At least according to Hollis it is.  His father’s Saturday will be defined by college football, especially the SEC Championship game.  Eleven years ago today his mother and I attended the SEC Championship game between Tennessee and Mississippi St. (seriously, Miss St.).  Not connected enough to figure out how to get on the Georgia Dome jumbotron, my plan to ask her to marry me would have to wait until Sunday.  

Thank God I got my work done that weekend!

Sawdust and Snot

Hollis and his Grandfather (aka “G-Dad”) caught here getting some post Thanksgiving work done.  Hollis had a pretty bad cold, so I’m wondering  what snot + sawdust equals?

He Finally Knows

Hollis, having already disclosed that he had "figured it out" as I pointed to his mother's pregnant belly, when posed the question, "what would you prefer, a baby brother or baby sister?", answered: "whatever comes out of my mommy's belly, that's what I want"!!!

Hollis seen here showing his Maternal Great Grandfather the “World’s Greatest Tow Trucks”.  Seated to Pop’s left is his first child  in the home of her third child.

Boy Child and Dog Child

Nothing like a little excitement and danger on your 10th anniversary!

What a long day of swimming will do to you

Welcome Back!

Wow! It's been a long time since I've been here hasn't it? Oh, well, let's not bother with the excuses and just call it water under the bridge and what not.

Speaking of water (smooth transition, no), Hollis had his first swimming lesson yesterday. He is taking classes with his friend Sadie twice a week for thirty minutes. We signed them up a while ago and ever since Hollis has been trash talking Sadie. Unfortunately for Hollis, this is not Sadie's first time at the swimming rodeo. For awhile, he took ever available opportunity to insist that he was a better and faster swimmer than Sadie and that he would be the champion; "like in the Olympics". His entire basis for this theory revolves around the fact that he is older (3 months) than her and therefore faster. It is questionable logic, but he is going with it. So far we haven't seen any Olympic caliber swimming although though they both took unexpected plunges during the class. Tomorrow is the second class and I have been told that diving will be involved. I'm not holding my breath, but hopefully Hollis is.No pre-lesson jitters here. Also, what is he doing in this picture? You can not see his ribs like that in real life.Pick me, pick me! I am ready to jump!

Picture Paternal Pride

So somebody's got to pick up the slack around here and I thought I could at least link to my post over on mobiquizoid. That post was ostensibly about the quality of my current phone's camera, but it was really about setting up this post.

See I had no idea when the day started Saturday that I would for the first time ever visit the resting place of my father's ashes with his grandson. Once there I found it very difficult to leave (not unlike visiting the other grandparents). We walked all the way around the lake (2 miles) and every time I berated Hollis not to approach the mud again or pick up another stick or rock, I could almost hear my father warning me to let him be who he wants to be. Hollis had no idea he had help dealing with my dictatorial reflex, no concept of all the things that had transpired to bring us there yesterday. One day he will, and he will also understand that it was as it had to be.

Here's a bonus picture or three taken today, and for the record Hollis is still 3 and needs no tee.(and Stacy was offering nothing but windswept lefthanded junk pitches too)

Sons eventually discover a father's pride is seamless as it spans each generation.

A Statement I Never Thought I Would Have To Make

"You can't eat dinner without your pants on".

I will let you decide who I had to say that too.

Sanitized for your protection

It seems that we have made a full recovery from the stomach virus/flu/plague. Food is being consumed, school is being attended and most importantly, all bodily functions are working correctly again. Hollis has been washed and lysoled. Ugh, it's the worst.
Last Sunday afternoon he seemed to be on the mend so I planned to send him to school on Monday. Everything seemed good Monday morning; he ate breakfast and was running through the house, so off to school we go. I should have known something was not quite right when he didn't take off his seat belt and jump up into the front seat as we pulled into car line. I chose to ignore this red flag so I could do my grocery shopping in peace. I know, you don't have say it, I am Mother of the Year...I am sure my trophy is in the mail. Everything was fine until about 30 minutes before pick up time when I got the dreaded "Please come pick up your child" call. Unfortunately, the stomach virus revisited him before I was able to get there. I will spare you the gory details and just say it involved emergency clothes, several bags of laundry and a bath once we got home.
He seems unscathed by the experience and headed back to school on Wednesday and took John for "Donuts with Dad" on Friday. Hollis feeling better and busy driving the train.