Like most little boys, organized sports is encouraged at a young age.  In NH, you have to be five years old to actually play on an organized team outside of school.  While my son grew, he tried all sports offered and seemed to love, excel and master mostly in basketball (although he does have a great broken collar-bone football injury for the record).  With quite a basketball history career behind him, he continues to play in two leagues to this day.  I attended every game, away or home, every fundraiser, banquet and party there was to support him and his team.  I cooked, baked, sewed, volunteered and had the team over for dinner so many times it almost put me in the poor house.  I would get so excited watching him play that when he made a basket, I would stand up in the bleachers, arms up in the air, yelling “That’s My Son” !  Yeah, I was that mom.  Of course my son would always look up at me with pursed lips and daggers like “Geez, mom did you really just say that, again?”  I was so proud of him, I couldn’t help myself.  He was the Captain and the star of the team.  The crowd would go wild when Jeff was running the ball.  At night before bed, we would always talk about the highlights and the lowlights of the game.  Just when I thought I was in the clear, he would always ask me to stop doing ‘that’.  Of course I always agreed, but never did.  Ooops.

Yesterday was my son’s 24th birthday.  Where does the time go?  While I was shopping for a birthday card, I came across one that said “That’s My Son” printed on the front of it.  I was immediately taken back to the bleachers with a giggle and a smirk.  I had to get it. While I was writing it out, I wondered if my son would read the words and be taken back to yesteryear when I would stand up and cheer with excitement, or if he would shoot me daggers at the birthday table.  With friends and family around the birthday dinner table, we laughed, ate, joked and then had Carvel ice cream cake and gifts.  I watched him as he opened my card.  His face said it all… he remembered and chuckled as he rolled his eyes when he looked at me.  I asked him if he remembered when…, he cut me off and said “ohhh I remember”.   It was priceless. 

I continue to be proud of my son for so many reasons.  I also continue to throw my arms up in the air and yell “That’s My Son” whenever the urge strikes me.  Yeah, I’m still that mom!

It’s been the best 24 years of my life because  –  That’s My Son!

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