Musing on my baby’s signing day. Or, Life is just one big photo op.

Photo opportunities.

Moments in life you click away to leave on your phone and never download to disc only to be lost forever when you lose your phone because I never print out pictures anymore.

Hardly ever. But I’ll print one of these.

*   *   *

 

Two of my favorite men in the principal’s office.

 

We were to report at the school at 3 p.m. for pictures of Jake signing his scholarship to play football at Presbyterian College. Go Blue Hose.

Or Go Blue — for obvious reasons.

(Joke. I love the Blue Hose. I am a Blue Hose. Or mother of a Blue Hose.)

Deborah Pritchett in the front office was having a birthday. Or that was the reason she stated having a necklace of one dollar bills. You decide.

A bit before three, a hoard of sweaty boys approached the glass office windows.

 

The entire football team left weightlifting early to come and be a part of moment.

For us, it was like a wonderful surprise party and the boys got out of class 15 minutes early.

Win/win.

Then Fighting Morgan County Bulldog Head Football Coach Bill Malone ushered us into the hallway.

 

 

 

And Jake got to signing.

 

Good decision by me to wear hair in sensible bun.

Didn’t want hair falling down below my shoulders for picture in newspaper prompting comments like — why in the world wouldn’t a woman her age cut her hair? She’d look so much younger.

Yes, I look very sensible, stable mother-of-a-high-school-senior appropriate rather the crazed luny I am.

Group pic.

 

 

Joining Coach Malone for the photograph were Coach Huff, Defensive Coordinator and Coach Robbins, Offensive Coordinator.

And Principal Mark Wilson. The National High School Principal of the Year 2009 (For like all secondary school….one in 20,000). Big woo.

 

I wonder if he knows about the necklace of one dollar bills?

Seriously, from a mum’s viewpoint, it was a wonderful day.

I day I will print out the pictures — and frame them.

Thanks to Coach Malone and staff, Mark Wilson and crew. Can’t believe four years are coming to an end.

Have you survived a child’s senior year?  (And about how many pictures do you have?)

iPhone Photo Phun

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Musing on the Premier of “Cold and No Bleachers. Morgan County @Greene County.”

Okay. I didn’t take enough pictures of the defense. I didn’t take enough pictures of my daughter. I took too many pictures of Coach Huff. 

These were some of the observations by my children after watching my video repose of the Bulldogs visit to Greene County Friday night.

Morgan County won 35 – 7.

Yay.

Regarding the complaint about lack of defensive pictures, there were very small risers on visiting side because the stadium was undergoing renovations.

I shot what I could ground level.

So there are photos of Astro Turf.

No lanes on the track.

The band sitting on folding chairs.

Cheerleaders.

I guess I got a lot of Coach Huff. But I thought I was getting him and Coach Malone.

Go Figure.

Basically whatever was on the sidelines —  I got great shot of.

And then my son. It was his last regular season game for high school. EVER.

Great season Bulldogs.

Can’t wait to head to Augusta for first round of playoffs Friday night.

Are you going?

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Not your mother’s plaster of paris. Musing on why every child wants a cast.

 

Other than leaving my keys in my car,  yesterday I was here.

 

I was here with my son yesterday morning.

 

He was getting a cast on his wrist.

And being the mom-with-a-blog that I am, I started taking photographs through the high-powered lens of my iPhone.

The nurse wasn’t phased. “People do it all the time,” she said.

But are all these people mega-intuitive blogging journalists?

As I watched her wrap his arm, I got to thinking…how many times did I wish I would fall out of a tree?

 

She start by wrapping the limb in soft cotton (or what looked like soft cotton to my highly-trained, highly-intuitive mind.

 

Or snapped by the misplaced rock of a rocking chair or horribly wrenched out of socket by a riotous game of Pong.

But no.

I never had the pleasure of seeing a brand new white cast turn the color of the Mississippi River or be the center of attention at school for about 3 hours. And have everyone including the cutest guy in 5th grade sign my arm.

(I can’t name names anymore because people who knew me in 5th grade might read these things. They would stop and think…She thought he was cute?)

Whomever you might be thinking I did, no I didn’t.

 

There were all these cool colors.

They don’t make them out of plaster anymore. They fashion them out of fiberglass. That’s what’s up with all the cool colors.

And that’s why they are all bumpy and almost impossible to sign.

 

He chose red. I can only assume to match his school colors and football uniform.

 

 

It was an incredibly un-mysterious process.

So I vicarious got to experience a cast on my arm.

They still can’t get wet. Though aren’t surfboards made out of fiberglass?

Guess that will have to remain one of life’s question marks.

Did you ever have a cast?

Did you ever want one?

 

 

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Musing playing at SW Macon. I was ready for the blizzard.

I hate cold. I hate cold rain. I’d rather be made to get up at three in the morning for a whole year than sit in the cold rain.

I was worried that it would be raining at game time. I packed rain ponchos, down jackets and blankets.

My husband got home late. We had over an hour to drive to game. He gets stressed when we are late to these things.

So while I packed enough outdoor gear for a blizzard, in the rush to get to Macon, we didn’t take out enough money for me to get into the game.

 

Help.

Once we got to stadium, the kids couldn’t find their shoes or socks. John was getting madder by the nano-second to get into game.

“Go ahead, just give me some money and we’ll be there as soon as we find shoes.”

He gave me a twenty.

FYI. Twenty dollars is not enough for three people to get into a high school football game these days.

*   *   *

We got to the ticket booth and I laughed, “My husband didn’t give me enough money.”

She laughed too. But I wasn’t getting into the game.

I thought for a second surely, she will let me in and come back with the four dollars.

No. We were in the city now.

So I sent the children to go find their father and I took the picture above.

*   *   *

 

I made it in.

But was so wiped-out by the experience that I handed the camera to my eight year old.

 

Lots of pictures of the band walking by.

 

 

The press box.

 

 

Neighbor Rob Jones.

 

“We are going to get killed tomorrow,” Rob said referring to Georgia Tech’s game on Saturday with Clemson.

Right then and there I knew Tech was going to win.

They did.

The Nunns.

 

Me being attacked by the bomb bird. (Notice I am the only thing within three hundred square miles wearing a down jacket. Or reading specs.)

 

 

The one drink we could afford. A lot of backwash was consumed by the Miles family that night.

 

Students. There are about 75 of this group. Looking through them is rather like a old movie. Every second is a frame.

 

See. I'll spare you the 73 others.

 

Rob's daughter Caroline cheering her little Morgan County Bulldog heart out.

 

 

Me. Still am wearing the down jacket.

Play of the game. Nick Simmons on a long run for an almost TD. (I thought it was a TD.)

 

 

Robin Couch.

 

Those crazy dancin' youngin's.

So we won.

Can’t remember the score. Maybe 37 – 19. (But remember I’m just a mom with a blog.)

Had to stop for some fries on the way home. Something about winning makes me crave junk.

 

 

Rob and Caroline right behind us.

 

 

God is good.

The rain didn’t start till halfway back to Madison.

The X-ray of my son’s hand turned up negative. After waiting up  till after one for Dad and son to get home from hospital, I slept till 9:15 on Saturday.

Next week….Greene County.

Last regular season game. << Teensy sob. >>

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Musing on an almost Monumental Momfail. Senior Night for Football @MorganCoHS

I try.

The motto of every good mom.

I try to remember the parent teacher conferences, the reading to my child every night, the throwing open  of my house to their friends with chocolate-chip cookies toasting in the oven.

But I fall short. Lots. I just pray it’s not on the stuff that matters. Guess we’ll really never know what stuff was the big stuff till they are accepting the Academy Award saying how their mother forgot to show up the day their class went to the zoo. Oops.

(That wasn’t true. But a few parent teacher conferences might have slipped through when in the throes of training for my midlife triathlon crisis.)

*     *     *

Last Friday night was the night that all moms, dads and significant persons in the lives of senior band members, football players and cheerleaders were to escort them on the field.

I was told to be there at 7 p.m.

At 6 p.m. get a call from husband that there is no way he will be there. The interstates around Atlanta are a parking lot.

I remember I have no car. My car was with senior son at already football field.

Place a call to dear in-laws. They will pick us up and have us there.

Fine.

*      *      *

7:05 p.m.

I get out of my in-laws’ car in parking lot.

I hear overhead announcer. You know — one of those great booming voices that carry out across a two-square mile radius from stadium.

I think…that sounds like names. Yes, those definitely were names.

I start to run with children in tow.

I blow pass A.D. Coach Cisson manning the gates as I ask, “Are they already on the field?”

He shakes his head “yes.”

Cr*p.

It was one of those moments I didn’t care the fool I looked like sprinting across the field to my son. I just wanted to make it. I dropped my purse and camera at the edge of the field.

What follows is my 10 year olds photo essay of the next 10 minutes after my sprint to my oldest son.

We are out there somewhere.

 

 

I made it.

 

 A child she knew. I hope this was a child I knew.

 

Leaving the field. I have the look of a woman who is calling an emergency meeting of the right and left sides of her brain.

 

Child Number 3. Who knows where his mother is?

 

As the parents are making the tunnel for the players to run through onto the field — I get the camera.

 

Dad arrives.

 

Then I look up to Number 46 carrying the flag.

How did he get so big? Especially with a mom that has to sprint to be at his side.

 

It was a great night all around.

And so many dear friends took pictures with their cameras.

 

I think he still cares. Though all he asks me is “What’s for dinner” and “Mommy, will you make me some Gatorade?”

Have you ever almost missed out on a parent-better-be-there-moment?

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Musing on stinky clothes.

I grew up in a family of girls.

The first “male part” I saw was in grade school. The two-year-old brother of a friend running around naked after a bath.

Why do men — of any age —  love to run around naked? Or stroll around naked?  Utterly  unconcerned with the effect their nakedness is having on innocent bystanders. (That is an entirely different and much complicated post.)

 

*           *            *

My son was leaving just now.

“Oh mom, by the way, it was really muddy in practice. Can you wash my clothes?”

I picked up the black bag.

Growing up with a sister  — the only “black bag” we knew was carried by our grandfather, the doctor. We knew nothing of athletic bags that sons cram wet, body-sweat laden clothes into.

Why shouldn’t they?

Mom is going to reach in there and touch those cold, wet things and wash them.

How could she do this? I made her drop it after realizing she might get some sort of staph infection.

 

She said, “It’s not that bad?”

I made her drop it immediately.

A photograph can't capture the tint of the grime or the scent of dead animals.

 

It was so bad, I emptied clothes from the bag into the washer.

 

And for the good of all humanity, threw the bag in too.

 

How do you clean athletic wear — from the body odor of a teenage male or mid-life hormonal stink-like-I’ve-never-stinked-in-my-life woman?

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Musing on (dare I say it) a loss….via texts.

Lots of new Morgan County fanwear.

Ever had one of those days where you’re hitting on all cylinders, then there’s a voice mail from the school. The nurse thinks your child has Streptococcus Bacteria.

Great.

So I stayed home from the game.

Husband took camera. I  hung out at home switching between House Hunters International and Chopped.

And receiving his texts.

 *            *           *

Lamar County v. Morgan County Game Report via texts between husband and me.

*            *            *

7:31 pm.  —  They scored on opening kickoff!

                 —   7-7.

7:47 pm. —   They are ahead 14-7. Long run.

8:12 pm.  —  Still the 14-7? R u taking pics.

                  —  Another long run for bad guys 21-7

                  —  No

                 —   Ouch. Take pics – one or two. How’s Jake doing

Lots of excited fans in stands.

 

                 —  Jake is doing good. We just fumbled.

                 —   We intercepted (Andrew Couch) and scored! 21-14

                 —  Yay

9:04 pm    — What’d going on?

                  —   21-21. Long run by Nick

                  —  They are back in lead 27-21. Missed extra point.

9:20 pm     —  We are back up 27-28. My aching back.

                     —  Oh gosh.

                     —  R u taking pics?

9:32 pm       —  No. They are back in the lead 35-28.

                     —  Ack

                     —  Take a pic. Even if back of someone’s head.

9:48 pm        —  What’s going on

                        —  Tied 35-35 47;5 left

                      —   Oh. Take a pic of scoreboard.

10:01 pm         — Overtime.

10:15 pm         —   What’s going on

                         —  We didn’t score their turn.

                        —   Poop

                        —   What’s happenin

                           —  They made their field goal. We lose.

                           —  That stinks.

Poop on a popsicle stick.

                            

So that was it. The Bulldogs experienced their first defeat…not by much.

They looked great and will take it out on Putnam County at Bill Corry Stadium next week.

G* Bldgs!

 

 

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Musing About Friday Night Lights on Tuesday. @MorganCoHS beats Monticello. Do you know where your child is?

Monticello, Georgia.

Home of Trisha Yearwood and the Monticello Hurricanes.

We went down last Friday night. Most of Morgan County made it down for the game. So my,

Story of the Game.

It was crowded. And we won 16-0.

Third straight shutout.

 

It was hard to find a parking spot. And even harder to find a place to sit in stands.

I got a good front row seat.

It was crowded on the front row.

I did get to sit with the cheerleader moms which was fun.

They were discussing a lot of responsibilities about a competition @MorganCoHS was hosting in the morning.

After looking over Agnes Jones’ shoulder at the checklist, I decided I make a much better journalist/football player mom than cheerleader mom with responsibilities.

 Got to see the Campbell warming up.

 

It was rather terrifying how hard that ball went into the net. Kept thinking is if he missed, some pretty cheerleader is going to need a lifetime dental plan STAT.

 

Decided to see how crowded the restrooms were.

 

Along the way, I noticed the water girls had lots of space.

Not so in the bathroom. But I had been forewarned about the tight acommode-ations by Diane Hutcheson. Though she neglected to mention the overflowing trash can.

Good to see that most females will wash their hands after using potty.

Then I got dinner.

It’s 9:30 p.m. in Monticello, Georgia. Do you know where your children are?

Quite a lot of middle-schoolers stayed in this dark, dirt corner playing with a ball the entire game (like hot potato).  Of course, it’s been a long time since I was in 6th grade and thought ANY activity with my friends at night, away from my parents’ eyesight was SUPER.

But this???

Take a head count moms.

Jack Speyer was accounted for.

As was his big sister, Annie. (At least till half time, then she disappeared for about 6 hours. Oh no,  I stand corrected. It was her father who disappeared for 6 hours. )

Ruth, James was there the entire game. Until some girl couldn’t resist his boyish charm and good looks and messed with his tie.

There was a big crowd of football players and cheerleaders celebrating after the game.

Noticed my son stay on the periphery of the dance. Must take after his father.

Or he might not like crowds. Hopefully, for his future wife that is the case — if she likes to dance — like a certain someone.

*     *     *

It was a great win for the Bulldogs. Coach Malone and staff…a big Hurrah!

This Friday night Lamar County comes to Billy Corry Stadium. Word on the street is that this will be a test.

Word in my house is that it is Elementary School night and all elementary students in free.

But I’m just a mom with a blog reporting information from the lips of my 5th grader.

Come out Friday night. It’s a lot of fun.

I can promise it won’t be as crowded. Though honestly, aren’t the best parties when you can hardly move?

(But that’s an entirely different post.)

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Musing on @MorganCoHS v. Clarkston High. Domination.

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That’s how things ended up last night at Bill Corry Stadium.

The Bulldogs dominated.

And I refuse to take all the credit…but I knew it was going to be a strong showing for the Bulldogs after I found myself parking in the same spot I did before last weekend’s win.

As I scurried through the gates, the team was on the verge of scoring their second TD.

I vowed to cover all aspects of the game (and not to sit as a potted plant). So I ventured forth with my camera and did some hard-nosed mom-with-a-blog journalism.

Bulldog Spirit.

The Dog Pound was in full swing. Any resemblance to Woodstock I am sure purely coincidental.

 

I saw these cute ninth graders and had to touch their legs. I wondered if they were wearing Spidey stockings. My reporting uncovered they were painted. I felt touching to be sure was appropriate as I am a mom-with-a-blog and not a man posing as a dad-with-a-blog.

The band had already worked up the crowd and a sweat.

I took this for Sutton's mama.

 

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I wondered who was keeping all these young musicians in good form?

One of my favorite people, Carolyn Smith. (Which was most convenient for I was looking for someone to bail me out at church on Sunday because I lost the book our class is studying. Found out last week, it’s hard to lead a discussion when you don’t have the book.)

She didn’t have book either.

Rats.

I said adieu and moved on with my camera in search of a story.

Waved at Jim Ross (red shirt) who holds the distinction of being my favorite pastor who was never actually my pastor.

Mystery of the Game?

With my reporting senses heightened, I noticed smoke coming from the right corner of the Dog Pound end zone.  Julie Speyer jumped on the case to help me get to the bottom of the smoke.

"I see someone tall. Andy Ainslie. They must be cooking something."

 

Indeed, it was Andy Ainslie and I think they were cooking something.

 

So there you have it.

*   *  *

Following in the footsteps of photo journalists who have covered worn-torn Bosnia and infiltrated hidden dens of terror along the streets of Kabul, I approached…

 

The Cannon.

I looked fear in the eyes and walked bravely through barricades….

 

 

I gazed upon the great firing beast known as “Bulldog Bark.”

As Fate would have it,

 

Morgan County scored.

 

Let the record reflect, I was not wearing protective ear coverings and still took this shot.

Play of the Game. 

There were many great plays and many touchdowns scored. In upmost journalistic integrity, I sifted them all through my vacant brain.

In the end, I have to say this interception by #46 and run was my Play of Game.

 

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He stopped short of the goal on the 2 yard line. In post game interview, #46 said the guy just got the angle on him.

That was my Play of the Game.

Of course, I’m just a mom-with-a-blog who gave birth to #46, 18 years ago this coming Wednesday.

 

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To start at 7 lbs 13 ozs, they grow rather large.

 

Picture of the Game.

After searching through reams and reams of game shots, I came to my decision.

 

Alas, I am not some coed with paint on my legs swayed by Steve Speyer’s transparent attempt to capture my eye and the honor.

The Picture of the Game goes to ….

 

Clark Sitzmann.

 

So there you have it. Another Friday night under the lights in Morgan County.

A huge victory for the Bulldogs.

Next week the Bulldogs travel just a hop-skip-and-a-jump over to Monticello.

See you there.

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The moon as I walked back to my car in my very lucky parking spot.

 

Any thoughts on this year’s Bulldogs?

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