Cheer

Towards the end of eighth grade a friend told me that "with a personality like mine I should try out for the Cheer Squad."  I had never thought about it before, but decided to give it a try.  If someone thinks I can do it, maybe I can.  So, in comes this little girl with no cheer, dance, or gymnastic experience, somewhat poor coordination, low self esteem, who can get excited without feeling embarrassed.  I bet they were thinking I'd chicken out first cheer.  Nope!  I worked my little tail off and made the team.  I was super excited from then on out.  I did it!  I may have had to work harder than the others to perfect the dance routines and NEVER learned to do a back-handspring, but I'd made it!  It was the best dare I've ever taken.  It changed my life in so many ways. 

Fastforward to today... Caden started Little League this year.  He's tried a few different sports, all of which he's only done one season for one reason or another.  We didn't have high hopes for him when he told us he wanted to start Baseball this late in his life.  Most of the kids that try out for that kind of thing have been pitching and hitting since their parents shoved it down their throats at three.  Then, at 11, Caden decides he wants a go at it.  Fine with me, I don't have babies anymore that make it hard to leave the house, this will be fun.  It was pretty clear right off the bat (had to use that phrase) that Caden was not going to be the number one player.  It doesn't make it any easier that they ALWAYS have practice on Monday night.  He misses one practice every single week.  However, from the first practice to last night's game, the team has made so many improvements.  None more so that Caden.  He is really getting into the swing of things (there's another one.  Couldn't help myself.)  Anywhooo... last night he got up to the plate, ready to hit that all-American grand slam.  I was pretty much biting my nails, but not because I don't do that anymore, remember.  I wanted my son to hit that ball more than anything else I'd wanted that week.  Second pitch and he clips the ball.  Next pitch, gone!  I was up and out of those stands, screaming like a banshee, yelling for my son to "Run, Caden, Run!!!"  I was so proud that my son had made it on base!!  After the fanfare died down, after the team had yelled "GO CADEN!!" I sat down feeling pride in my heart for my boy!  Randy leans over and whispers, "I wonder who's kid that is?"  We had a giggle and continued to watch the game.  It's stayed with me, though.  I don't feel embarrassed that I was the only mother that actually lifted her bottom off of the stands.  I don't care that he didn't make it past first base with the next kids striking out.  I don't care that I probably looked like a maniac screaming my guts out at a Little League game.  My kids will NEVER wonder if their mom is proud!  My kids will always know that I am in their corner cheering them on, secretly wishing I could bring along those 9th grade pon-pons.  I will always be that mom, the one that screams like a banshee over the smallest of accomplishments.  My kids are LOVED by a mom that loves to cheer!