A girl, Oh boy!

A curious thing happened about the time I became a teenager. Girls. My father was never the type to sit me down and explain things to me. I don’t blame him. How do you explain this complex phenomenon to a hyperactive prepubescent with an undeveloped attention span. A heads up would have been nice. It was a subtle change for me. It seemed like one day I was angry in gym class because the girl in front of me popped up weakly to end the kickball game leaving the tying run on base and me on deck. The next day I was angry in gym class because the CUTE girl in front of me popped up weakly to end the kickball game leaving the tying run on base and me on deck. You see? Subtle.

I was a bold and adventurous youth. There was not a dare that I would pass up. Now that I look back on it, I have come to the conclusion that perhaps I did not always surround myself with the best influences. We had our fun and for the most part we did so without causing much trouble. However, if there was something to climb or something that needed jumping, I was the man. I wasn’t always the most athletic in the group or even the most coordinated but I was the designated crash dummy. I did it willingly because I liked the challenge. Now that I look back on it I feel kind of used. If something dangerous is laying on the ground looking dead, as a kid, what do you do? You grab a long stick and poke it. How do you check the consistency of an unidentified viscous substance? The depth of a dark hole? A deep puddle? Find a stick and check it. I was the proverbial ‘stick’ throughout my childhood. As brave as I was when it came to answering the many dares of my so-called friends, girls where a whole new ballgame. I was the poster boy for an awkward young man. I was a blushing, stuttering, toe in the dirt, fool of a boy. Talking to girls, at times, was more painful than high centering myself on my Huffy. Gradually it got a little better. I learned a little in High School. College was much better. Now I am happily married. Looking back on those days I don’t miss it at all. I do miss that Huffy though…

Four words recently changed my world. Four beautiful and scary words. “It is a girl!” I am going to be the father to a beautiful little girl. A little girl who is going to do the same thing to a slew of unprepared and unwitting little boys. A little girl who will turn me back into that shy fool of a boy, but for different reasons. I do not know everything that lies in wait for her and that is scary to me. I do know she will be loved and that is comforting. I barely survived my first bout with females! I am excited for round two…

It's A Hit!

Things happen to me. They always have. Maybe I put myself into situations where such 'things' can happen. Regardless if I deserve it or not, I am a target for mayhem. Becky has learned not only to cope with this simple truth, but to find humor in it. I remember a specific time in our young marriage when I had just suffered a broken finger in a baseball playoff game. Just one of those 'things'. There was not a snicker or a laugh from my wife. In fact, she actually asked if I was OK and genuinely cared. She helped me clean the blood off my split ring finger and every night she would wrap my broken pinkie. Those were the days. Fast forward to the future, actually about two weeks ago. A baseball game being played on a warm night. Yours truly steps to the plate. The sun is low in the sky, just over the horizon in the left-center gap. The pitcher for the other team is bringing gas around the mid 80's. The first pitch from the righty comes in and I take a mighty cut at it. Big whiffer. Now if that curveball had been the fastball that I had been sitting on... Anyways, I step out of the batters box to reevaluate my gameplan. Based on where the sun is currently at, it is almost impossible to differentiate between a fastball and a curveball. I step back in after deciding to sit on a curve. The pitcher winds-up, I squint my eyes and coil my body. The ball is released high and inside. I keep my weight back and wait for it to break. And wait.... and wai... Two things go wrong. One, it is not a curveball. Two, By the time that I recognize that it is not a curve I have waited too long...

And yes, it hurt! The ball hits me solidly on the arm, as evident by the pic taken a couple days later. By my calculations, the ball hit me at 4'3''. The ball then travels about 10'10" off my arm reaching its appex at about 15'1" (calculation based off time of ascension and descension average vs time on screen then off) It is a scary moment. My wrist instantly curls and locks up from a nerve being hit. My fingertips go numb and the rest of my arm feels like it is on fire. Eventually everything goes back to normal, I take my base, and the game continues. We win. But... listen to that video again. You hear the thud of the ball, the umpire yells deadball. The catcher and umpire walk over to see if I am ok. The crowd reacts... but listen to that last voice. That is my lovely bride... (Oh great)... Ah, the love! ;o)