My soundtrack

I read Mama Kat's prompts for her writer's workshop this week and chose 30 things I vow to do this summer. But I also wanted to do her prompt about the soundtrack of my life.

We all have certain songs that transport us to specific moments. I mean, if I hear the Zoom theme song, suddenly I'm four and pretending I'm Edith and have a Boston accent. Or I hear Beyonce's All the Single Ladies and it's two years ago and I'm in a hotel room watching her video on TV - and Sage starts shaking it (in a CUTE way, I swear!).

Anybooty, these are the songs that stick me in a particular place in time. My soundtrack.


Top of the World, The Carpenters:  I am 5. I walk on a street near our house with my sister, who's 11, and her friends. I feel awesome because I'm hanging with the Big Kids. We walk, and sing, at a volume that belongs only to the young or the very drunk, "I'm on the top of the world looking, down on creation and the only explanation I can find, is the love, that I've found, every since you've been around, your love puts me at the top of the world." And that's exactly how happy I am. Until we see a dead bird in the gutter at the side of the street. I, for some reason, poke it with my finger. Everyone tells me how disgusting I am and that I probably now have rabies. I'm devastated and slink back home.

Day O, Harry Belafonte: I am 7 or 8. I am obsessed with Harry Belafonte. Obsessed! I find an old record of my parents and play it over and over again. "A beautiful bunch of ripe bananas!" Not sure if they do this at the new place, but when I used to go to the old Yankee Stadium, sometimes they'd play just the "DAY O" part and it would echo, right before the crowd yelled it. Always made me smile.

Hard to Say I'm Sorry, Chicago: I am 13. I put this 45 on repeat, turn off the lights and close the door of our family room. I lie on the couch and listened to this over and over and over. I loved it. Loved it, even though it did not at all apply to anything in my life. Finally my brother complains because really? No one should ever have to listen to this song. Especially 91 times in a row. My parents make me turn it off. What they must have thought..

Live from Hollywood Bowl, the Beatles; Doors Greatest Hits: All was not lost when I was 13. I discover both the Beatles and the Doors. In eighth grade my best friend Paula and I do a report on the Beatles. We make paper bag puppets for John, Paul, George and Ringo and dance them around to I Wanna Hold Your Hand from the Hollywood Bowl album. How fun was THAT? Let's just say the Doors fit in with my mood swings back in those days.

More Than a Feeling, Boston: I am 16. I love me some Classic Rock. Still do. I wear out my Boston tape listening to it constantly in the car. We cruise around - I wasn't driving, I swear! - and drink ice cold Budweiser and play area guitar and blast this. So now when I hear this song I'm taken back...and then I burp.

Faithfully, Journey: I am 17, hanging out at the Homecoming dance. I wear a soft rose-pink Laura Ashley dress that was my most favorite dress ever. I feel pretty. I don't dance with anyone, just hang on the bleachers. And watch everyone else make out and wonder if it would ever be me.

Crazy on You, Heart: I'm 19. A guy friend who lives above me in my dorm blasts this on particular mornings. We know it's time to wake up and start drinkin'. I still remember exactly how it sounded, muted by the floor/ceiling separating us, but loud enough to make me bolt upright. It may or may not have actually been noon rather than the morning..

Diamond Girl, Stevie B.; Brown-eyed Girl, Van Morrison; Just a Friend, Biz Markie; U Can't Touch This, MC Hammer; You Dropped a Bomb on Me, Gap Band; All Around the World, Lisa Stansfield; Fascinated, Company B., Cecilia, Simon and Garfunkel; Red Red Wine, UB40; Add it Up, Violent Femmes: More college. Different friends, different bars, different music. I could tell you about each song, but that would be VERY boring. You're welcome. Let's just say they involved drinking and dancing and loud drunk singing. It was college, y'all!

These are the Days, 10,000 Maniacs; True Companion, Marc Cohn: I am 32. I wear a beautiful ivory dress, with beadwork on the bodice and a band a silk satin around the hem. I peer down from the balcony as the music starts. The setting sun reflects gold sparks on the ocean. The people seated below radiate love for us and are there, together, from all over the country to share our happiest day. "Never before and never since, I promise, has the whole word been one as this.." ... The sun has just set, and I hear the sound of the waves from the beach 20 yards away. It is still warm. In the high 70s, maybe, and I can't believe how gorgeous the orange-red-pink sunset was. How perfect the ceremony. And now I hear the words, "Baby I've been searching" and David and I are dancing, and crying, and dancing. We're married. Each to our true companion.

Hark the Herald Angels Sing: I am 34. Sawyer is born Dec. 13. The next day, I'm in the hospital room with a friend. David and her husband leave so my friend can help me with the whole nursing thing. A nurse comes in and mentions carolers are walking around, and did I want to keep my door open?  I soon hear them singing about glory to the newborn king. I'm not Christian or religious or anything, but I look at my beautiful, perfect newborn. MY newborn king, and the tears fall.

Beautiful Day, U2; Sexyback, Justin Timberlake; Chump, Green Day; Pump It, Black Eyed Peas; Alive, Pearl Jam: I am 38 and training for my first marathon. These are the songs that get me through another mile, another hill, another few feet. These songs are still on my shuffle today, and they motivate me to go faster, harder or, some days, just to finish.

Don't Stop Til You Get Enough, Michael Jackson: I'm 41. I'm hold X. Sage and Sawyer play. David starts the music, and just like that, it's a family dance party. We spin, we shimmy, we booty shake. We sing. X screams with delight. Or maybe it's with fear from my singing. The older kids want to be picked up and bounced and spun, too. The stress of the day melts away. We are laughing and singing and dancing til we're breathless. Then we do it again.

Thunder Road, Bruce Springsteen: I am 17. 21. 30. 37. 41. I am driving, and roll down my window to let the breeze blow back my hair at just the right moment. This is absolutely my all-time favorite song. Why? Because it has the best lyric ever written: "Show a little faith there's magic in the night, you ain't a beauty but hey you're alright." You may be all, "The eff?" at that, but it speaks to me. And that's what music's about, right? How it touches us and moves us and makes us feel.

I'd also like to take this moment to thank my husband for attending two shows with me, despite him not being a fan. Because he knows how much I love The Boss, and how his music makes me feel. That's what love is, people. That's what love is.

So I'm dying to know: what's on YOUR soundtrack?

Little League Mom

Sawyer started his first season of Little League this spring.

It's not cheap, people. They get you at registration. Then they start in with the fundraisers. And they're not voluntary.

So you'd think the least the child could do was, you know, enjoy playing.

But no.

He said he was nervous, that he didn't know how to play as we got ready for his first practice. I explained that that's why they have practice: so they can all learn.

Then it was that he'd rather be home running in the street with the neighborhood kids, whacking each other with light sabers or swords or sticks or whatever they can find.

He did okay in the first game, only slumping over when he had to play catcher and wear all the equipment (because it huurrrt).

He apparently complained all through Wednesday's practice that his arm hurt, he was tiiiiired, etc. And yet, when he got home, he leapt out of the car and ran up the street to play.

This morning? He didn't want to go to baseball. Oh no. He wanted to DRAW.

Now, I don't expect him to be the next Albert Pujols or Derek Jeter. I do, however, want him to have a positive attitude and try his best.

So that's when I have to channel my inner Little League Mom (you might be familiar with its close cousins, Stage Mother and Pageant Mom, but not to be confused with Soccer Mom, which involves bad jeans and a minivan).

I got right in his face and told him that he made a commitment to his team and he WAS going - NOW! as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. Then off he went to the field with David.

He was playing third base when I got there with Sage and X. And he made a play! I whooped! I clapped! I shouted GREAT JOB!

Because that's what being a Little League Mom is to me: I go crazy whenever he hustles. I don't care if he gets a hit or if his throw sails over the first baseman's head. I bite my tongue when he lollygags to first base - although, if you put a cheeseburger on a string and hung it over the base, I bet he'd break land speed records. Just sayin'.

See, when I first started covering sports for a newspaper, I was on the bottom rung: I had to cover high school sports. And boy did I learn what I never wanted to do if I had kids someday. I saw parents shout profanity at opposing players and call them fat or ugly or whatever. One time I was covering a girls soccer state tournament game and one of the players, as she ran down the field in the middle of the game, yelled to her coach "Get him out of here!" while pointing at her father on the sidelines.

I've seen drunk parents, belligerent parents, drill sergeant parents.

I vowed never to humiliate my child that way.

And so, I keep it all positive. Even when I want him to stop picking his nose out in center field (pick a good one! Atta boy!).

Sometimes it's tough for me to understand how he can be so uninspired. When I was his age? I would've LOVED to have had the chance to try out different sports. But my mother didn't want to drive. It's a big reason why I always try to get my kids involved in whatever they ask.

Sawyer just doesn't have that burning desire to be out there. I know he's only 6, and maybe that will come. I sure hope so. I think sports are great for kids, to teach them how to be part of a team, to win AND lose and to get some good exercise.

I guess I'd hoped he'd love baseball the way I do. I spent most of my career around it, and believe me when I tell you that you REALLY have to like the game to be a beat writer covering a Major League team.

Sawyer was excited when we went to Spring Training last weekend and he got to meet Angels Manager Mike Scioscia - especially when Mike moved the gate and tons of fans to let us through, and then posed for a picture with us. (Mike had to bribe Sage with the fungo bat to get her in the picture.)

And to give you an idea of what the fans look like from inside the fence..

No one asked for our autographs. Surprisingly.

Anyway. I briefly chatted with Sawyer's coach today between innings about Sawyer's lack of enthusiasm. And then before his final at-bat, I simply told Sawyer to make it his best one.

He actually RAN to the batters box. He hit the ball hard enough that it got through the infield on one bounce and raced to first! He was having fun. There was even a smile!

And then - and then! Sawyer was awarded the game ball.

I'm sure the coach (who is wonderful and who was also Sawyer's AYSO coach in the fall) wanted to light a little fire. Judging by how excited Sawyer was about the whole thing, I'd say he succeeded.

We'll see what happens next week.

Almost Better than Honey Bear

 

Each weekend, a child from Sawyer's kindergarten class gets to take home Honey Bear. The bear goes wherever your kid goes: parties, soccer games, the zoo, out to eat, etc. Then you take pictures and write in the journal about what you did.

Sawyer came bouncing out of class clutching a bag on Friday, shouting that he had Honey Bear. This is a Big Deal. It was pretty cool seeing Sawyer so excited.

Honey Bear had a great weekend: he got to play Bakugan, go out for pizza and even went to a birthday party (no cake, though, since it contained nuts, and Bears are allergic. In case you didn't know. At least they are when they're with Sawyer).

Sawyer even slept with him. It was very sweet. We returned him on Monday but Sawyer was the special student for the week. I had to make an all-about-Sawyer collage, which forced me to look back through old pictures to find some cute baby ones - and more than once I had to stop and say to David "Good LORD X looks JUST LIKE HIM!" I swear I could have 100 boys and they'd all look just like their Dad. It is a thankless job being simply the vessel, I tells ya..

So today David, Sage, X and I went to his classroom for the family visit. We sat up in front of the class and the kids got to ask questions about us.

What's our favorite movie? What's our favorite food? Color? Job? Game? The teacher warned them in advance not to talk about themselves, but when I said my favorite movie is "Ratatouille" I got a lot of "me too!" I mean, who doesn't love that movie?

Really, though, the kids were only sort of paying attention to us. Because a certain small someone stole the show.

 

He was yelling, trying to grab Sawyer, babbling and, when I put him down for a second, he crawled around like a wild man. When all the kids started laughing, at first he looked unsure. But then he joined in and started clapping. They were all very impressed.

And Sawyer was extremely proud. His brother was almost as cool as Honey Bear.

Priceless

I just could not stand the idea of one more Bakugan in our house.

I'd decided at the last minute to have a small party for Sawyer's sixth birthday. Nothing fancy (or expensive). Just pizza and cupcakes at the park after school.

I knew I'd be asked what he wanted for a gift, and since all he wants are Bakugan, I knew I had to come up with something else.

Thing is, this kid needs nothing. He already has a bazillion Bakugan (if you have no clue what they are, be thankful. They're magnetic plastic balls that open up into characters, and they battle with cards that are worth certain points. Makes no sense? You really want to know? Then click here). He does play with them, but seriously. Enough already. I also was not excited about how whiny he's become when he asks for a new toy and we say "No." Tears, the whole bit.

My child was ungrateful. It rankled.

So I decided that in lieu of presents, I would find a charity for which to collect donations. When you don't belong to a temple or church, it's a little more challenging to find ways to help.

I asked my friend who seems to know a lot about different charities. She sent me a list. I researched all of the organizations. Some were all about toys - which was great, but I thought it might be asking a lot of a just six year-old to see the toys - and then have to give them away.

I chose South County Outreach, a local charity that includes a food bank. I drove down there to check it out, and got a tour of the food pantry.

It's really amazing. They're helping around 900 families a month. The economy has not been kind. Clearly not everyone in Orange County is living like those women in The Real Housewives.

I told Sawyer the plan. At first he wasn't too enthused, but once we got to talking about how he'd be helping kids who didn't have food, he got on board.

I sent an email to all the parents of the kids Sawyer invited, asking if they would consider donating. A few brought a gift for Sawyer anyway, but everyone brought canned and boxed food items.

A neighbor also donated two big bags of books and another bag of toy cars and trucks - SCO likes to keep a selection of books and toys for kids who come in with their parents and have to wait, sometimes for more than an hour, while their parents fill out paperwork. The children can then take a toy or book home.

Today was the first chance I had to take Sawyer and Sage down to the food pantry to donate our items.

I told them that they were about to do something really important. I'm not sure they entirely got it. They've never had to worry about where their next meal was coming from. They've never had to do without - unless you're talking about a trip to Target where they weren't allowed to buy anything.

I backed the car up to unload. There were many families waiting in line, as it was the last day to pick up their Christmas dinners and gifts for the kids. There was a very happy little girl who'd just learned she could take home a used stuffed Barney.

I took out bag after bag of food from the car. They weigh all the donations for tax receipt purposes.

Our total? Sixty-two pounds of food donated. Thanks to Sawyer. I was very proud.

We took a short tour of the pantry so I could point out to the kids all the shelves of food and all the volunteers sorting all the donations.

Then it was on to the front office so we could arrange the books. As we were finishing, a woman came over. Her son loves Thomas the Train. She was thrilled as I handed her a book about him, and then picked another for her daughter.

We left. Of course I was happy, but you know, you always wonder what more you can do. There were so many families, with little kids. Grateful for a book, a toy, a can of corn, a box of spaghetti.

Not just a lesson for my children. It's a lesson for me, as well.

Blessings count.