Dream come true

It’s been four weeks since we returned from Cooperstown, N.Y. Before we went I would replay in my mind how the week would go. How I would start this post. Now, none of that would have done it justice.

Cooperstown is the home of the Major League Baseball Hall is Fame. It’s the place every baseball player, big or little, dreams of having their name and likeness on display.

This small town in upstate New York is also the home of Cooperstown Dreams Park - a place where 12 year old boys go to live major league dreams. It’s Disney World for baseball.

The park rests between the foothills of the Adirondack Mountain and the Catskill Mountain ranges. Here youth baseball players hit homeruns over 200 foot “green monsters”, strike players out and make beautiful diving catches. Teammates become lifeline friends, brothers. For many parents, like me, it’s their child’s first real time away from parents apart from one off sleepovers with friends.

The park hosts 104 teams 14 weeks each summer, starting first week of June. At the time of this post, week 4 teams are competing for the coveted Cooperstown Championship.

Daulton had dreamed of playing at Cooperstown Dreams Park since he first learned about it as a 7U travel ball player. When his team, Indiana Nitro Cardinal, found out last fall they would be participating there was nothing that could take D’s smile. The month before the trip we talked about it daily. He wasn’t this excited to go to Disney.

When Daulton’s coach asked parents last fall if we would be interested in going to Cooperstown, it was an easy no questions asked response for Jason and I. We wanted D to realize his dream. We were so grateful all the other parents wanted their players to have that experience.

Nothing could have prepared us for what this place would feel like. It’s so cliche but as you drive under that “Cooperstown Dreams Park” arch you feel as if you are on sacred ground. The mountains serve as perfect peaceful backdrops to the pristine deep green grass fields. The view is simply breathtaking.

Excitement continues to build as you join the ranks of parents waiting their turn to check their kids into their team bunk house. Each team stays on campus with their respective coaches for the week. (Thank God for coaches being willing to stay with a bunkhouse full of 12 year old boys!) The team eats, sleeps, plays and bond. You drop off little boys and they come back a bit more mature, both as young men and players.

I am not ashamed to say I shed a few tears the first time I saw D in his Cooperstown uniform, as well as after he hit his first, second, third and fourth home runs. I felt the same emotion when his teammates hit each of theirs too. My heart broke when a ball would hit the very top of the wall and bounce back into play. I wanted that kid to feel the same excitement D did rounding the bases. My tears were also missing Papi, who had supported D’s baseball career since t-ball. Never missing a game until his illness prevented it. I knew that Papi, Papa Chuck and Papa Ayers we’re watching from their seats amongst the clouds. Our own angels in the outfield.

D’s team struggled in pool play. They came alive in tournament play being the lowest seed to last the longest. Higher seed teams wanted a chance to beat us. Unfortunately, after four games we ran out of pitching steam. I may be biased but these 11 boys and their coaches earned their spot in the Youth Baseball Hall of Fame. Players from each team are inducted into the YBHOF and receive rings as their momentum.

Every youth baseball player should get to experience this sacred place. Experience what it’s like to hit homers over green monsters and stike players out while bonding with their teammates.

Saying goodbye isn’t easy

A spray of red roses and stargazer lillies sit atop the pine-colored box, along with a red hockey jersey. Another item catches your eye. A sheet of paper, folded in half, that reads “I Love you Daddy,” written in a child’s handwriting. You a;readu know what it says inside, but you have to pick it up and read it anyway. It’s everything you would like to say to your dad if he were here. 

“I love you daddy. You were the best daddy I could ever wish for. I miss you already. I just want you to know that I love you.” 

The tears you thought had stopped flowing start again. And you think, “Why?” Why did this have to happen. Why did you make this decision? Your beautiful young daughters no longer have their dad. They will never be the same. Your family will never be the same. 

The mention of Father/Daughter dances will bring sharp pains to their hearts. Graduation. Prom. Those, too, will be tinged with pain. Pain that you are not here to hug them. Tell them how proud you are. Tell them how beautiful they look. And let’s not even think about their wedding days. Not having your dad to walk you down the aisle was completely heartbreaking for me. 

But they will never get the answer to “why”. Why you did this. Why you were so sad. I get it. I’ve been there. I’ve known many others to be there. I just happened to be lucky enough to come out the other side. 

My heart will be aching for your daughters tomorrow and every Father’s Day there after. The holiday will never be the same for them. 

Depression is a bad bad beast. It’s an illness with no real cure. Sure there are pills, and counselors. Everyone says, “Please talk to me.” Some mean it, some don’t. Some feel so completely lost and closed off that they can’t even see the light at hte tunnel. And, like you, they think their families may be better off. That your are better off. I have to believe that God has ended your pain. That you are set free, but I’m selfish enough to say I wish you were here to see your girls grow up. Grow old with your wife. Retire to some beach or mountain resort. To meet your grandchildren. 

My friend I hope your death helps others battling depression to get help. To reach out. To realize that this disease is just that - a disease. A terrible terrible disease with no cure. 

Readers: If you, or someone you know is battling depression. Please reach out. Please get help. You don’t have to fight this alone. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

The loss of a beloved teacher

The Pittsboro (Ind.) Community is yet again mourning the loss of a beloved teacher. On Wednesday night, Doris Martin, a retired fifth grade teacher at Pittsboro Elementary drowned in a drainage ditch as she and her husband were trying to clear debris, local news outlets reported.

In October, the school community mourned the loss of Larry and Jackie Sparks. The retired high school and elementary school teachers were killed when their RV left the road in Jellico, Tennessee. Their daughter, Debbie Dorrell, a teacher at Western Boone Schools, was injured.  

The news of Mrs. Martin’s passing quickly spread on Facebook and social media. 

A friend posted Brad Henry’s quote: "A good teacher can inspire hope, ignite the imagination, and instill a love of learning." A phrase that easily describes Mrs. Martin.

My fifth grade year was one I will never forget. Mrs. Martin was my teacher. She helped me through one of the most traumatic times in my life - the death of my father. While tragedy struck my family, I realized that life was not easy. However, Mrs. Martin quite often reminded me to “be a kid”. Have fun and work hard. She at times would mention bible verses to help us through problems. 

Mrs. Martin was a matter of fact type of teacher. She told you exactly what she thought, but did it with grace. She wasn’t mean or bitter. She had the patience of Job. I remember shortly after my dad’s death we took a field trip to the town mortuary. Back then I thought it seemed rather weird. Now, I think she and Mrs. Holcolm attempting to help us understand the pains of the world around us. The entire process, for me, was surreal having already gone through the process of picking out a casket for my own father. But I learned a lot during that field trip - the embalming process and that morticians aren’t cold blooded people - they have hearts and care about the deceased and their family. 

Mrs.Martin was a Godly woman. Each year she handed out small red bibles to her students. Something that would cause an outrage in today’s society. She wanted her students to have understanding of the world around them and how things worked. 

There’s no doubt in my mind this morning that Mrs. Martin is walking on streets of gold. That she was welcomed with wide open arms and a bright smile on Jesus’ face. 

Her patience, knowledge and kindred spirit will be forever missed and forever in the hearts of all of the students she touched, including myself. 

Basketball game turns brutal

Five minutes. That’s I need to see of my son’s basketball game Wednesday. Five minutes.

Granted I would have been there for the entire time, but I had another commitment for my daughter’s softball team. I made it for those last five minutes.

We knew it would be a grueling game. My husband, the coach, knew that each of the boys needed to play their best to get a victory. He knew that he had to coach tough, just like he did all season. None of that would matter in the end.

I’m not ashamed to say we lost. We lost 24-18. What transpired during and after game was disgust.

You see last night during the game my son and several of his teammates were threatened. Not by kids from the other team, but parents and grandparents of the other team. Yes, grown adults were threatening to “kick the (butts)” of 7- and 8-year olds.

I’m actually glad I only saw the last 5 minutes. During those 5 minutes our wonderfully talented boys played their hearts out. They didn’t give up despite the threats.

Here’s my problem, these are 7- and 8- year old boys out to have fun. They just want to play basketball, but what transpired was just downright wrong. Who, in their right mind, thinks its OK for an adult to want a child to get hurt? If you answered yes, you need your head examined. Just sayin.

From what I have heard from sources on both sides of the court that it all started when the teams were tied. I was told that everything turned bad after half-time. Apparently there was some conversation with the referee calls made. The other team was upset we were tied. You see the other team skated by during the regular season without any hiccups. Last night, they met their match and didn’t like it.

Our team’s toughness and athleticism got into their heads. They knew we could beat them, and maybe the only team that could. (Not saying we were any better than any other team.)

After half-time, the game got physical. Brutally physical. Pushing, shoving, etc. During those five minutes I was there, my son was knocked to the floor at least 3 times. Another boy, one of our best shooters, saw eye to eye with the court several more times. 

Were there some bad calls by the referee? Probably. I don’t care about that though. He was a high school kid trying to do his best.

What’s unacceptable is when adults ask their kids to hurt another child, or threaten to do it themselves. That’s unaccusable. And we wonder why bullying is such a problem?

One parent was kicked out of the game. And allegedly another group of parents/grandparents took matters out into the parking lot.

I will be completely honest to say had I known that my child, and those on his team, had been threatened I would have spoke up. You don’t threaten a 7/8-year old and get away with it. Be an adult. Compose yourself.

I have a loud mouth. I know that. I will never say I don’t. I speak my mind, but not in a million years would I ever threaten a kid. Just plain wrong.

A game where boys should just be boys. I understand playing with emotion, but telling the boys to “get rough” and “knock that kid out” is not fun. Luckily none of the players followed those rules. They tried to play with the same heart and soul that our boys did. And they won. I wish them nothing but the best of luck in their championship game. 

I will never understand why people can’t realize that none of these kids are being sought after by NBA or college scouts. 

Just get over it. It’s a game. No one’s life was significantly changed. No contracts were signed. No money at stake.

Just five minutes and I could determine how badly that game had gone. Just five minutes.

The 2015 “White Ghosts” basketball team listens to their coach’s directions during a timeout.

Here comes baby, there goes the money

Having a baby is scary. I know, I've been there. Three times.

Child birth wasn't the only part that scared me, but figuring out how to afford this little being was a source of stress.

As we got closer to Daulton's arrival I began researching ways to save money on all things baby from diapers and formula to high chairs and strollers. 

Breastfeeding

One of the ways we chose to save money was by breastfeeding. My best friend, Lisa, had nursed and was a source of inspiration to me. I knew any questions or fears I had could be bounced off her. I found it important to surround myself with women who either were currently breastfeeding or had done so in the past. I also attended a breastfeeding support group at the hospital I gave birth at.

Breastfeeding can save families between $1,000 to $3,000 a year. (http://www.frugal-mama.com/2011/08/how-much-breastfeeding-can-save-you-an-interview-with-andi-silverman-of-mama-knows-breast/).

I nursed my eldest son for a year, our daughter 6 months and our youngest son 8 months. We were on the lower end of savings because my milk production was low, we had to supplement with formula. 

Formula

Formula can be expensive and there are tons of varieties to choose from. One way to save is by signing up for Similac Strong Moms and Enfamil Family Beginnings. The programs send coupons and sample cans.

Diapers

Most expectant parents understand that babies go through a ton of diapers. You can get additional savings by signing up for Huggies Gifts to Grow and Pampers Rewards. Inside the diaper packages there are codes you enter on the websites for special deals and coupons. Each site also has coupons.

Costco and Sam's Club memberships help you save. Both stores carry namebrand and generic formula and diapers. Some friends have also used Diapers.com.

I used cloth diapers with my daughter. Her skin, was and still is, very sensitive. She was in a constant stage of diaper rash, unless I used cloth diapers. I will write more on that experience another time, but in general it was quite easy and not as gross as many think. Many outlets offer a great selection of cloth diapers. Mine were purchased from FranklinGoose.com,

At the hospital

You will get lots of promotional items from baby companies. Most hospitals give mothers the option of a Similac or Enfamil diaper bag combo. They contain formula samples and other items. You may ask for both, but be prepared to be told no.

You will also be given your first package of diapers and wipes. Before leaving the hospital, don't hesitate to ask for additional packages. 

Also, feel free to ask for extra formula, even if you are breastfeeding. Sometimes babies need to be supplemented with formula until mom's milk is fully in stock. Its also always good to have it on hand in case you are away from baby (say, date night!) and the baby uses all the pumped milk.

Savings in general

Other savings sites I find beneficial:

Frugal Mama

Mojo Savings

Frugal Coupon Living

Opening Day

Opening day took on a whole new meaning when my husband, Jason, and I had our first child, Daulton, nearly 8 years ago.

Jason has always been a huge baseball fan. He loves sports in general, but baseball is very close at heart. Me? Well, I enjoyed watching the sport, but I could take it or leave it. I was always the person who watched the World Series, but didn't follow the rest of the season.

I would have never anticipated my life would be consumed by baseball and ballet. (more about ballet later)

Daulton's love for baseball started immediately. At one month old, he went to his first Cincinnati Reds game. Then at 2 months, his Uncle Dan and Aunt Beth introduced him to the Baltimore Orioles at Camden Yards.

It's an understatement to say he sleeps, eats and drinks baseball. He would play the sport 365 days a year, and nearly does. Now as a player for a travel team, he gets his wish.

Baseball is a family sport for us. While our daughter, Isabel, loves ballet, she also enjoyed playing t-ball and watching her big brother kick butt on the field. And Daulton's little brother? Well let's just say baseball pants and cleats are often Brandon's attire first choices. Brandon loves his big brother and wants to do just what he's doing. He wants to be a baseball player too.

So, opening day? Well I'm looking forward to seeing the Reds take the field. But it also means that opening day is around the corner for Indy Black Sox 8U Black, as well as for Isabel's first softball season and Brandon's 2nd t-ball season.