Well, I promised my sister I'd sit down and begin this 'blog o' the MQ life'. I have no amazing goal for today other than grab a few moments of solitude that exist when I wake before the rest of the household and put a few words down.
Reflection for this morning. . .
We attend the Cougar Basketball Games as a family. We're lucky enough to have great seats, very kind seat neighbors, and the ability to bring a bag full of popcorn and toys/stickers with us.
Another thing I appreciate about our seats is the opportunity they provide in letting me absorb the game -- all while Justin and I pass the little one back and forth, juggle 'I have to go potties', make sure everyone has an equal amount of popcorn, catch a flying hotwheel before it hits one of our unsuspecting neighbors in the back of the head, etc.
At the last game, I realized I need to get something. Because, there is someone just like me out on the court.
What is it? Who is it?
A referee shirt. The ref. (I don't have the luxury of having a team of refs, so in our game, one will do.) . . .me.
Yep, me, the M.O.B. (Mother of Boys) could use a good ol' black and white striped ref shirt. I believe in uniforms. I'm no fashion guru. I'd love to have something that fits my life every day. And, while we're at it, let's throw in a whistle too (I like the idea of using a whistle rather than my voice).
I love my kids and truly believe they are a gift from God. What I'm realizing is that living gifts filled with curiosity, inventiveness, competitiveness, and energy can play life's game much better when the ref. on the floor watches intently and can call out an infraction -- and to follow through with the foul even if the players complain.
Yep, I think I'm a ref.
I make lots of bad calls too, mind you, and in my head (my automatic replay that sometimes is difficult to shut-off) I kick myself for my mistakes. . . don't all parents?
So, should my kiddos be karate chopping, turning their bathroom into a rain forest (with the shower-head configured to spray the entire ceiling so droplets can cascade upon the entire forest floor), rigging pulleys in the dog's kennel, taking all sorts of pantry items and placing them into various sized buckets of water to see if the items freeze differently outdoors, yell at each other (or me) for what seems to be no reason (that's a technical in my book), or be immersed in any other adventurous (often with a mother's blood curdling level of danger involved) play they may create for the day, I'll be ready.
The good ol' M.O.B. -- referee shirt, whistle, and open arms ready to hug. . . dare I say, "Let the game begin?"
I hear little feet running upstairs, over and out for the day,
Lisa -- M.O.B.
