Over Scheduled

{Markus playing third in today's game vs. the # 1 Red Sox}

{Max playing second vs. the D-backs}

{Max playing drums at the Spring Band Concert}

{Max playing at his JV hockey game tonight}

If you have ever experienced an emotional response simply by watching someone you love in action, have I got six words for you!

Very rarely Max has too much going on.

But tonight he did. It was not from planning it, some things just all end up lumped together on the same night. It was an email from his band teacher, Mr. J. that made me change the way I interpreted what was going on. And if I have learned anything on this journey called "life" it is that children are the true experts when it comes to grasping when to say when. 

Here are the words that started it all: 

"Max came to me today and asked if there was anything he could do to make up the band concert on Thursday. We had a discussion about why he would inform me only two days before the concert. He explained that he plays hockey year round and baseball during the season and that on this Thursday night each activity conflicts with one another, Hockey, Baseball, and the Band Concert.

I asked him how often he plays hockey and baseball games and also how often we have band concerts. The band concerts have been scheduled since the beginning of the year. It is not something that was scheduled last week or happens frequently. I expect him to be at the concert, just as his team coaches would expect him to be at their games. I understand that conflicts sometimes do happen, however this seems to be overscheduling on Max’s part. Also, Max is a percussionist, which means he is the only person that plays his part. It would be almost impossible to replace his contribution to the band. He would leave the other students high and dry.

When scheduling conflicts arise, it is best to be able to plan for them appropriately." 

Although I finished reading the email and went on with my day, my mind kept going back to that one particular sentence; the one that said, "it is best to be able to plan for them appropriately." I repeated it over in my mind exactly three times. And then I attempted to remember all past interactions I had with my boys at the scheduling conflicts of their extracurricular activities. 

I could think of many occasions when I encouraged, guided, complimented and provided suggestions for how to over-schedule. Had I ever said, "I love to watch you play"? When finishing a swim meet, a piano recital, or even a Sunday night sandlot game. Sometimes. But maybe sometimes I said more was better. Could I really just say "I love to watch you play" and let them decide what? And if I did, would my sons stand there cluelessly at the next invitation to play on another team or another instrument because I had failed to provide guidance with all their "extracurricular" activities before?

Well, I would soon find out. As luck would have it, my 13 year old had an all star tryout the day after I read the email. 

The first words out of his mouth were, "Mr. J. said I was over-scheduled." At the time of the tryouts, his friend Jake texted and asked if he and his brother Sam could come hang out. His steady brain, analyzing the situation, emerged with his answer at lightning speed. He hadn't even made it half way down the driveway on his bike when he turned around and said he wasn't going to tryout for all-stars this year. 

Since my middle son began playing baseball five years ago, I have ALWAYS had the same reaction to his first swing on the first pitch. I cry and turn away so no one sees my reaction. 

I cry not because he's going to hit a home-run. 

I cry not because he's going to be a future MLB player or even high school. 

I cry because he is healthy; he is strong; he is capable.

And I cry because I love to watch him play. 

Oh my. Those six words...

I love to watch him play.

I had always felt that way---tearing up at every game, but I hadn't told him. Not in so few words anyways. 

After the band concert tonight, my son and I stood in the auditorium, just the two of us. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder, that is almost taller than mine now, and then I looked him in the eyes and said, "I love to watch you play. You practiced so hard and for so many months, you amaze me. I just love to watch you play." 

Max slowly leaned into me, resting his head against my arm for just a few seconds and sighed. He seemed to say to me:

The pressure's off. She just loves to watch me play; no matter what I do.

I knew I was on to something. 

Thirty minutes later, Max having quickly changed from his black shirt and pants into his white M hockey jersey, it was a big night for him. The JV hockey team has some seniors on it, and the team they were playing from Riverton had some big old boys. He was wearing his new helmet that I got him for his birthday and was having a hard time getting used to the white cage.

After his first shift of getting adjusted to it, he opened up to a pass from his team mate Brian F. and scored his first goal of his high school career. I watched as his hands adeptly found their homes-no need for his old clear face shield. 

With a confident smile, Max celebrated his favorite way, by high-five-ing his team mates...

As his strong legs skated over the ice with ease, I had to look away. My vision became blurred by the tears in my eyes. In fact, this emotional reaction happens every time he gets on the ice. Every. Single. Time. 

I cry not because he has a perfect stride. 

I cry not because he is a NHL player in the making. 

I cry because he is happy; he has a body; and he is free. 

And I cry because I love to watch him play. 

I know I have a new mantra. Not that I will say it like a robot on command or without reason, but I will tell my boys that when ever I feel it--when tears come unexpectedly to my eyes or when I suddenly look down and see goose bumps on my arms.  

I know now how important it is to say it simply-in moments when I feel it. Moments when my heart is palpitating the kind of love that comes solely from watching another human being whom I adore. 

Since Max's birthday is tomorrow I want to tell him about the other times when I have been going about my business and had to stop to notice. 

It is time. 

And since writing is so much easier for me than speaking, I wrote them down. Words of love, plain and simple:

I love watching you read.

I love to watch you swing across the monkey bars. 

I love to watch you admire the clouds and the way the sun shines through them when it rains. 

I love to watch you love your little cousins.

I love watching you take out the trash. 

I love watching you mow the lawn with your headphones on.

I love watching you teach Markus how to throw a baseball. 

I love watching you teach him how to shoot the puck. 

I love watching you ride a penny board with your friends. 

I love watching you interact with Morgen. 

I love watching you laugh. 

I love watching you cook. 

I plan on printing out this list and giving it to him tomorrow when we have a quiet moment together making his birthday cake. I don't know what his reaction will be, but it doesn't matter. I feel these things, so I am going to say these things.

When simply watching someone makes your heart feel as if it could explode right out of your chest, you really should let that person know. "I love to watch you_________________." It is as simple and lovely as that. In some cases, less is more. No pressure...just love, pure and simple.