Joy

This is something that I read on Facebook today, "Super excited for B*******'s 1st indoor softball tournament this weekend but seriously how am I going to smoke:( #extrameds "  Shout out to Jamie (hope you don't care that I used this).  This really made me laugh.

I blog a lot about how crazy my kids make me, but there are times when they bring me the most perfect, complete joy.  What's crazy about the joy that they bring me is that sometimes it lasts for only a fleeting moment...in that moment I feel so overfilled that it overtakes any frustration, heartache, and weary bones that I have ever had because of them.

I will share with you one of those moments.  I have told you that the girls have started playing basketball.  There are 10 kids on the team (3 of them are girls).  My two children are the worst players on the team.  Yes- you read that correctly, they are the worst players on the team and I readily admit it.  That being said, when they do something right (this happens like 1 time per game and it is something as simple as trying to get the ball), my heart fills with the pride that I am sure is equivalent to what Michael Phelp's mother felt during the Olympics.  I am not exaggerating nor do I discount my feelings.  I really feel that proud.  Anyway, tonight, mh1 got ahold of a loose ball.  She took a few dribbles heading straight for the goal.  She found the distance in which she knew that she felt confident and she took it up STRONG.  She got fouled and headed to the free throw line.  She missed her first shot but she didn't loose her cool.  When she went for the 2nd I thought I might pass out.  When she actually hit the 2nd, I jumped out of my seat and screamed like a maniac along with the rest of our friends and family.  I was so stinkin' happy that I actually got teared up.  Teared up to the point that I had to leave the gym because I was afraid if I didn't leave, I would get to snottin' and hiccuppin' and smearin' my mascara.  So, I walked away from the crowd (I did hear a few giggles from the ones that knew I was crying like a weirdo stalker mom).  I had to spend the next 2 minutes watching that sweet, long legged, long haired, skinny, smart mouth, oldest baby of mine through a window for fear of embarrassing myself.

And when I say the worse player- this is what I mean:  Tonight I had to yell at mh1 to "Get serious!"  Do you know how ridiculous that sounds when watching a group of 6 and 7 year olds play basketball?  But what I really wanted to yell was, "Stop having so much fun!"  I knew this would be extreme so I refrained.  When I was telling The Ex what I really wanted to yell he says (very seriously)- "You need to relax.   What's wrong with her dancing and slapping herself in the face".