The Brody Bunch Survives Mother’s Day!

It’s Established that Everyone has the Best Mom, We Miss Moms & F U Hallmark

Each Mother’s Day I acknowledge that we all have the best moms ever. We miss the moms who are no longer with us. I have empathy for those who have lost their moms or children. I don’t like Mother’s Day.  Never have. Unreasonable expectations as the kid. My kids misbehave. There’s disappointment. This is all unnecessary. Everyday is important. My expectations are low and despite having pretty awesome kids, this one Hallmark day is an annual giant shitshow. So, I give an annual big F U to Hallmark.

Parenting Days are so Long yet the Time Goes By Quickly

The night before Mother’s Day, my husband, older daughter and I were cuddling and watching videos of our family from when the four kids were really little. My husband filmed moments of our younger life. The little stuff that became the big stuff. I appreciate those clips now so much. My heart was full of emotions as the days of parenting are so very long, but the time goes by too quickly.

Breakfast Was Not Served in Bed, It Wasn’t Even Served in the House, My Husband Made An Escape

No Coffee, No Underwear, Questionable Art & No Little League Games

The next morning, Mother’s Day, my husband burst into the bedroom, “WAKE UP!  Do you want to go out to breakfast with me? The kids are really misbehaving!” No. All I wanted was for the kids to cleanthe house. In the past, I asked them to just behave for the day and my then little daughter would reply, “Behave? Can’t we just buy you a new purse? That would be easier!” So, cleaning joined behaving, and I would receive neither. No, I do not have a new purse.

Next, another daughter came into my room, “Where’s my underwear? What happened to the laundry? I have to wear athletic shorts with built-ins.” Yup, I had Mother’s Day laundry to do.

I asked my purse offering daughter if I gave her instructions, would she please brew coffee.  She reminded me that I had a cup of coffee in my bathroom (a space in the house where the rest of the family is banished – much like a Man Cave) from the day before and she would be happy to microwave that. 

Instead of delivering on the coffee, she took the time to mimic a Mother’s Day art project that she made for me 7 years ago when in Kindergarten, under the supervision of her teacherThe project was little nails hammered into the shape of a heart on a wood block with ribbons outlining the heart. It still hangs in our foyer. Her modern version of this project, sans supervision, was created using my painting canvas and several two inch screws, which dangled out the back of the canvas. No coffee, but now I am the recipient of a weapon-like piece of art, in the shape of a heart.

As the day went on, our boys’ four travel baseball games were rained out.  At least I didn’t have to pack the lunch coolers.

My younger daughter was talking to my youngest son on speaker phone, “I need you to clean the house or else I am not allowed to use the kitchen and I want to make a Mother’s Day dessert.” Her desserts are her gifts. My son looked at me as she did not know that I was in the room and she was on speaker phone. He giggled and hung up on her. I don’t eat desserts, I just wanted the house cleaned.

They Took Me to The Ballgame

Last minute, we went to Camden Yards to cheer on the Orioles, my hometown team in last place. It was drizzling, the bats were hot and the game was so much fun. One of our favorite Orioles, Right Fielder, Joey Rickard, received a call on Mother’s Day morning. He was recalled from the Minors to play again in the Major League.  The game ended with 17 runs including Joey Rickard‘s two home runs. And, my husband, for the first time ever, and while I was buying snacks from the concession stand, got a Joey Rickard foul ball. I was so happy for him! REMEMBER THE BALL.

After a great day at the game, we headed home and the kids played catch while I took an unsanctioned nap.  Yay, naps and more baseball!

Though Banned from the Kitchen a Child made Mother’s Day Ice Cream Sandwiches

While I was at the ballgame, without the house being tidy, my daughter, the one banned from the kitchen, used my brand new and never used baking tray to make ice cream sandwiches, whereas the ice cream melted and then froze all over the tray. The ice cream sandwiches served as the kids’ Mother’s Day dinner. They were happy.

Notorious Ruth Bader Ginsburg Screening

I was again awoken with the door bursting open, by my husband, again. “Let’s go!  I know you want to see Notorious RBG!”  Yes! I want to see the documentary about an iconic and Jewish woman making HER-story!  We were late to the theater and the cashier didn’t know how to sell tickets to late comers. So, the employees let us into RBG for free! I thanked each of the employees and promised to do something really nice for someone else, soon, but not today.

As a Little League Mom, A Signed MLB Ball (from my family) Was Better than a Hallmark Greeting

My husband handed me the foul ball from the game.  Each person in my family signed my husband’s prized ball.  It was a gift from their hearts. As a Little League baseball Mom, this gesture was filled with love.

After the movie, my husband and I had a dinner date.  We decided, that on this successful Brody Bunch Mother’s Day, if Joey Rickard, who was called back up to the major leagues on Mother’s Day, wanted his foul ball, though signed by family, it would be an honor to give it to him.  I hope one day if my kid is a major league ball player, that the ball recipient would feel the same.

When we got home, my oldest son, in bed for the night, the one who first made me a mom, called me into his room.  I gave him lots of kisses and he asked me to look in my bathroom (everyone goes in there).  He left me a sweet note for Mother’s Day and he signed his first name and our last name initial.  All of my kids came through. While the house is not tidy, it’s filled with love. I had a home run kind of a day.

The Brody Bunch – Growing, Pride & Crying in Baseball

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To commemorate my special birthday, we bought a fundraising brick for our new Little League field and paraphrased from A League of Their Own while honoring the Brody Bunch.  Though, after a phone call and opportunity for our first born little league player, I plan on crying.

Baseball Attire Leads to an Opportunity

Months ago, I was in a Hebrew school meeting and wearing jeans with a baseball jersey and baseball cap. My younger son was wearing his little league uniform. A guy kept motioning to me to get my attention and asked if my kid plays baseball.  This guy was recruiting boys to tryout for the  Jewish Community Center’s Maccabi baseball team. We exchanged information, went to a tryout, my husband was recruited as a volunteer coach, and I sortof forgot about it. Our older son also went to a tryout, and I sortof forgot about that, too.  Coincidentally, I was in another community meeting, and the speaker stopped her presentation and said to me, “Aren’t you the baseball family?” I never really thought of it, but yes!

The Phone Call That Shapes Our Future

Last night, as I was falling asleep, I received an enthusiastic call welcoming our older son, Leo, onto a special baseball team for the experience of a lifetime and are we ready to sign? There are more players than spaces, so we need to commit now.  Wow.  I was unprepared for this call, as I sortof forgot about it.

I hated my circa 1950s housewife response: “I am so thankful, but my husband is not home.”  WTF, Robyn (me)?  I wasn’t sure how we would commit to the large expenses involved. Immediately, I told the Coach how unacceptable my answer was to him. I repeated my gratitude and strongly emphasized that this is my decision, too.

I was distracted by my younger son throwing moldy strawberries from the fridge into the sink.  The entire moment was surreal. I knew that I was proud of my son making the team, I was annoyed with my anti-feminist response, and I was really annoyed with my younger son throwing food across the kitchen.  I was letting negativity override my happiness, and that made me really mad.  That is not me. I sensed that it was more than berry throwing getting to me, my hand was forced to let my older son grow and I see that his time is, NOW.  And my time to grow is also NOW.  We had to accept the literal call and grow, NOW, together.

The Coach asked to speak with Leo. Leo, happily took the call in the bathroom and I was nervously listening through the door. My son is very polite.  But like many teens, he is not the best telephone conversationalist. But, because my family speaks on speakerphone, and Leo thinks this is a common practice, their conversation was audible. I was beaming with pride from his athletic achievement but moreso for his character and demeanor.  I fast forwarded my thoughts by several years, and I imagined that this moment might be similar to receiving the call from a college coach offering my kid a baseball scholarship. But, that is getting ahead of the gift of time.

Dreaming, Realizing, Role Models & Responsibility

Leo has been playing baseball since he was four. His Dad has coached him for years. And, many of his coaches are our friends. Baseball families become extended family. As a term of endearment, most of Leo’s friends parents are called Coach rather than mister so and so.  Once, Leo asked me what one of his coaches did in the professional world.  It seemed to me that Leo recognized that a professional backup plan should be considered in case the major leagues don’t come knocking at his door.  That was a sad moment of reality for me watching my kid realize that a dream may not become real.

There were many times that we had to have the “Sandy Koufax sat out of the World Series” conversation when Leo was disappointed with us that he had to miss practice for Rosh Hashanah or a game for Yom Kippur.  Now, Leo was offered a coveted spot on the Jewish Community Center’s Maccabi baseball team representing our hometown.

Once the sibling excitement and the news of the hour settled down, Leo and I snuggled on the couch. It was our first time sitting on the new couch together. And, we had a memorable moment, while still unable to bounce off the walls like I usually do in excitement, I spoke quietly.  I never speak quietly. “Leo, you know I am so proud of you?” Leo’s special smile that comes out at very special times, beamed, “Yes, I do.”  I quietly asked him, “How do you know?”  Leo stated, “Because you are my number one fan.”  I hit a homerun.  I asked Leo, “WHY do you want to do this?” Leo told me, “I think it will be fun and I will have a chance to represent the Jewish people.”  Oh my goodness, I hit a grandslam in terms of our heritage.  The grandparents and the Rabbis should be kvelling.

A Plethora of Firsts are Coming Our Way

With this opportunity, there will be lots of firsts for my firstborn. This adventure is scheduled weeks before the start of his freshman year of high school at a new school.  He will be flying on a plane for the first time.  He will be visiting the West Coast for the first time. He will be traveling without his parents for the first time.  He will be have an experience of a lifetime without me, for the first time.  I won’t be there to see all of his expressions, for the first time.  As Leo seeks independence, I am seeking strength in growing and letting go, as best as I can.

Leo stopped attending Jewish camps around age 7, attends school in an urban community, and while we try to have regular Shabbat dinners, being Jewish doesn’t come as easily to him as it did for me growing up in an insular community. This baseball opportunity gives Leo a chance to connect with people who have similar backgrounds and interests.

All of the Brody Bunch kids play baseball or softball, and I use baseball as metaphors when talking about life lessons.  It’s ironic that a lot of my upcoming personal life lessons will also be centered around baseball.  

In my conversation with the Coach, I pulled the mommy card big time: “How are the host families screened?  As a hobby, I photograph little league, I am happy to help!”  The Coach told me that I could travel with the team! Though, I cannot. The expenses for this journey are too steep, and some of the non monetary expenses include me recognizing that my number one son is growing up whether I am ready or not. I am blessed that he calls me his Number One Fan.  

For Me, there WILL be Crying in Baseball

I tell my kids’ teammates, “there is no crying in baseball” it’s one of my favorite baseball expressions.  I believe that this Number One Fan (me), is exempt from the mantra, as when the journey gets closer, I will be crying tears of pride for my baseball player.

The Brody Bunch – a birthday & baseball cards

The excitement of opening each pack and flipping through each card ... a great way to start a birthday morning around the breakfast table.
Baseball cards… a treasure in each pack.

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The Brody Bunch celebrates a Birthday with Baseball Cards

Today our first born child turned 14.  This measurement of time is a combination of the days being so long and the years going by quickly bridged with many blessings. The World is better off thanks to our beautiful, sweet, smart, funny, athletic and wise soul of a child.  I have learned a lot in 14 years, including gratitude and simplicity.

Four kids in puberty at once

The experience of living with four children each one year apart and the journey of four puberties at once is something that either a terrorist can relate to or someone with Stockholm Syndrome survives.

Celebrating a 14th birthday

How do you celebrate a 14th birthday?  We stopped renting moon bounce party spaces after year 2.  Four kids with such festivities in rentals alone would cost $2500 per year.  After the euphoric high of a Bar Mitzvah just a year ago and friends away for summer excursions, how would we ring in the 14th year?  A big and loud family dinner celebration splashed with laughter and a few friends met our needs…but the birthday morning at breakfast is one for the memory bucket.  

Using the former Tooth Fairy’s leftover loot

Between finding remnants of the Tooth Fairy’s baseball card collection coupled with finding baseball cards at Goodwill while donating our clutter, circa 1988 – 1993 baseball cards made for a magical morning.  The look of the birthday boy and his brother along with their Dad ripping apart Topps packaging gave me great hope that the teenage struggles will have an ending, one day.

Oohs and Aahs

Time spent opening packs, oohing and aahing over baseball legends of the past, and meticulously sorting each card by team in alphabetical order, led to one of the best mornings I have been part of in a long time.  We didn’t go broke for the cost of celebrating, and we didn’t collect more clutter.  We shared a simple experience.  My heart bursts with simple happiness.

Sampling 1988 gum is like a first ever shot of liquor.

Like a frat idea, the kids and Mark bravely sampled the stick of gum in the 1988 pack and their reactions were nothing short of a first time shot of Whiskey.  We laughed at the wrapper marketing for a chance to win an all expense paid trip to the 1989 Spring Training Camp.  Despite this expired offer, we felt like winners.  We were winners in the love department of just being together.

An American Pastime

Baseball cards, an American pastime, still at the cost of the loose change in your pocket, can bring so much happiness, and it did.

While the cards have no monetary value, the experience with the cards is priceless.

Blessings of a Birthday, time with Grandparents

Our son also had the blessing of being able to spend his birthday with all four of his Grandparents.  It was a grand slam for everyone.