American culture, American People., Culture, faith, family, Life, Logic, motivation, philosphy, pop culture, psychology, Society & Culture, Sports, Uncategorized

We Hope for Baseball

Image result for baseball

The collective emotional roller coaster our homes, communities, states, nations and world have experience over the past week cannot be quantified with words.

But damn if it’s not like me to try. Leave it to a pandemic for me to sit down and type my first entry in so long I cannot recall.

The world around us moved so fast last Wednesday that it seemed unreal. The NBA was suspending its season?

Huh.

Thursday saw universities shuttered, college basketball conference tournaments cancelled, high schools move to eLearning.

Um, what?

Friday felt like the bottom fell out, the cancellation of the NCAA Tournament, a new kind of March Madness. Spring sports cancelled – including the College World Series in June – throwing eligibility questions and team rosters for the 2020-21 season into a quagmire that didn’t feel so giggity giggity.

And we thought the news was all filled with doom and gloom before?

I told my wife Friday afternoon that my brain hurt. I couldn’t comprehend much more that day, think of any more angles to cover or next steps after the next steps. I needed wine tequila and a hoodie.

2020 will be forever remembered as when “Social Distancing” became apart of the American lexicon, when everyone from the age of two to 92 could recite proper hand washing protocols.

It will be remembered when we learned everything in our economy is connected, that an essential freeze halted us in our tracks. We quarantined, we worked from home. We overreacted, we under-reacted.

We hoarded toilet paper.

Everything has effectively been put on hold. Youth sports, book clubs. Going out to dinner, a family cookout with grandparents. Spring break. Every Disney Park closed for weeks, every zoo and museum closed. No choir concerts, no parades, no church in person, no events really of any kind.

Everything. Has. Stopped.

But have we learned?

Nothing we didn’t already know.

That faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us, and while the greatest is love, the most important might be hope.

We need to hope we can get back to normal before July. Before June.

We’re holding out hope for high school baseball in our home state. My son, a senior, is a part of a team that won a state championship last season. His friends from his travel teams, scattered across the state, all want the chance to play before college. Most won’t get a chance to play in college, but it is not about that specifically.

It’s about Senior Night. It’s about Prom. It’s about hearing your name called for the final time. Crossing the stage with a diploma at graduation and graduation parties of definitely more than 10 people.

It’s about all we’ve taken for granted. The commute to work filled with podcasts that have fresh content about sports, movies, politics, whatever. Seeing our co-workers, sitting face-to-face in meetings, teaching in a classroom filled with people.

It’s been merely a week, and even the introverts like me don’t think we really understood how significant social distancing could be to the fabric of what it is to be American.

Maybe this is a chance to re-learn, to re-think the daily life and throw our routines out of whack. Are we adaptable? Are we unbeatable? Can we turn a negative, a 100 negatives, into a positive? Are we just catch phrases, or can we rise to the challenge and endure?

We’re always taking about how busy we are (I’m looking at, well, all of us).

Well, how about now? Time to read. Time to listen. Time to think. To take a walk. To get to know our spouses and kids again. To find a way to serve a purpose greater than ourselves.

Maybe this is our wake-up call.

What is truly important, and what is not.

Sure, we’ve clung tight to family. Personally, we haven’t turned into The Shining family around here…yet. And we appreciate our home, our jobs, our friends and our freedoms.

But hope, man.

Hope might be the most fascinatingly human emotion there has ever been. And we need it more than ever.

No matter your beliefs, your political allegiances, whether you call this a hoax or are digging your doomsday bunker as I type, this is history happening for better of worse in real time.

It is a stark reminder we are not in control, not even a little bit, not even at all. But like any good book or movie (that we’ve all probably re-watched or re-read three times by now), hope is a good thing.

It could be the hope we’ll stop losing our ever-loving minds. Hope that those who aren’t taking it serious will wake up to the fact that COVID-19 is a bit more threatening than we thought a week ago, or even a day ago.

Hope is why Hallmark is running Christmas movies in March. It’s why Disney+ put Frozen II up months before they were supposed to. It is why classic sports re-runs are a welcome distraction. Why Tom Brady going to Tampa Bay and leaving New England was something else to talk about for a few hours.

Because we do not know where this going. We do not know the impact on the economy, on our jobs, on our daily lives yet. And we won’t fully for some time.

But we hope.

We hope for the sick, we hope for the cure, for strong leadership, for our friends, for our industries, for our kids.

We hope for an appreciation of the life we lived two weeks ago and for a future that might be close to it.

So, yes, we hope for baseball in this house. And we hold out that hope, because without it, well, it just makes the brain hurt.

Stay safe. Stay informed. Stay good to each other.

Stay hopeful.

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American culture, Culture

The Drive For Five

Hey, complete stranger person who’s completely and utterly baffled why my wife and I are having a fifth child, I’d like to answer your question of whether or not we’re “crazy” in long form explanation instead of a simple “yes” or “no.”

Do you mind? Cool. Let’s get started.

I see you silently judging me with your eyes from the moment I said “fifth” – and I could care less. But just know that your shock and mild disgust is not as well hidden as you might think.

Yes, we have several children, we certainly are aware of the volume of children we have produced. And no, people do not seem to care as much anymore. It may be less exciting for everyone else than the first or the second, but not to us. We never had children for attention anyway.

Yes, we are younger than you might expect. Sorry we’re not older, I guess? We tend to think that our youth is a good thing, allowing us to play with our kids and chase them with energy and vitality. But if you somehow think our age equates not knowing what we’re doing with so many kids, that’s a totally fine opinion to have. Because certainly no one over the age of 40 ever messed up.

moore family

No, we’re not destitute, nor are we rich. Our children are happily fed, washed and clothed. And we do get help in that department from time to time from loving and wonderful grandparents on both sides, but only because they offer, want to or just do it without asking. We are perfectly capable of doing it on our own.

Yes, we are aware what causes it, but thanks for that awkward joke. Really played well to the crowd, sir. We planned these kids, believe it or not.

But somehow, I don’t think that look in your eyes is about us and our large family. It’s about us not following the “rules” or societal norms of the world in 2015. Because it is not what everyone else does and it’s not “normal.”

We are easily influenced in this country, but somehow rarely swayed.

We’d rather tell people how wrong they are instead of leading by example. We do this out of some sort of need for affirmation, that we are in fact, right – and someone agrees enough to tell us so. This then serves as validation to everyone else who still thinks we are wrong, so that we can turn back to them and say, “See, this person knows I’m right, too!”

Third party credibility at its finest worst.

Ask yourself this: if your convictions are strong enough, why do you need the approval of others through how many thumbs-up you get on a status update?

We like to complain. We like social media. And we’ve married them together quite nicely. We like to tell each other what the problem is, who’s to blame for it, what should be done about it, how it affects us and why we are right.

From politics to road improvement projects to what clothes to buy or music to listen to, we’re all trying to change the world through our opinion and what we value – presuming all along that others out there a) care what our opinions are, and b) hold the same values as we do.

We all have a sphere of influence; we just greatly misconstrue what to do with it. Social media allows you to build and sell your brand. Every post you make, every favorite, like, share and retweet.

Now, this may or may not be who you actually are – but that does not really matter. To the outside world, you are what your advertising says you are. You are marketing you, and in some ways those connected to you, with your brand.

And that brand is the message you allow yourself to project. You cannot change the world. Too big, too difficult, too abstract.

But you can change your world – and by doing so, through your sphere of influence, the world around you perhaps slowly changes over time.

So many people tell us of the ills of society.  They will complain. They will condemn others who do not think and act as they do. They will tell you that you are, in fact, wrong.

Now how many times when someone told you that you were wrong did it change your mind?

I’ll go ahead and guess zero, because you didn’t. The message is half as important as the messenger.  Throughout history, powerful orators – great messengers – have influenced mass amounts of people to do really great things.

They have also persuaded entire populations to do really dumb things, terrible or horrific things.

The difference between disagreeing and intolerance is a thin line, and we are not often aware that we have crossed it until it is too late. The same holds true then in how we conduct ourselves with others in person.

Life cannot be done as it is on social media.

So, yes, this makes our fifth child. And we’ve experienced the gamut of reactions before. Believe it or not, some had the open-mouth shock, the “you must be one of those” furrowed brow, the head shake and smile, the plastic smiled “that’s so nice” when we had our fourth child nearly four years ago.

We keep having children because we feel called to do so and that we can raise another person to be good, to be kind, to try to make the world a little brighter, a little happier and a little better.

To get there, you just go with it.

Look, do I enjoy freezing my tail off at some sports event at 8am on a Saturday morning after getting up at 6:30am? No more so than anyone else would. Is it fun to have a factory assembly line five days a week to make lunches for school the next day? Not particularly my brand of fun.

Sleepless nights with a newborn are not moments that I would describe as fun by any means. Nor is holding having nightmares of Home Alone play in my head as we walk through an airport, utterly petrified one of ‘em will end up lost in New York.

But this is not about me – it never was. Life is not meant to be about me, or my wife. Life is about giving yourselves to others and attempting to make the world a little better, a little brighter, a little happier. Let’s face it, it can be fairly depressing at times.

avengers assemble

And we have a lot of fun. How can you not with your own brood of mini-me’s?

It is our way of changing the world into a better place.

We all fear evil in the world, but it is indifference that scares me personally the most. And what my wife and I long to do is make difference makers, people who care about others and want to do right, solely because it is right. To us, this is increasingly rare in the world we live in. I want the good guys to win.

In some small way, I have convinced myself that our influence on our brood, and thereby a larger world, will be and last much longer than social media – and much, much longer than me.

You see, my life isn’t over because I have so many children. My life and purpose begin with my children. In fact, our children have helped me narrow my focus and become more efficient with my goals and objectives. My ambitions are closely tied to their lives, what they can become and who I will become because of them.

None of this makes me a better person or parent than anyone else in the world. My views are not somehow more valuable or correct.

It just makes me, me.

And you aren’t going to change me by telling me how weird it is to have five children.

But by all means, go ahead and try.

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belief, Culture, faith, family, Philosophy

A Bit Childish

It happened again today. In fact, it nearly happens every day.

Someone said it.

“You have FOUR kids?”

I might not ever get used to my reaction to their response, which usually consists of a mix of sarcasm, wit, a nervous laugh or a simple, “yep.”

No matter, it happens all the same. One day it might be the visitor to my office at work, noticing my family photo and asking, “are they all yours?”

our familyNah. I just liked the frame.

For a while, I used to think it was because we were younger and I took it as a compliment. For a bit of time, I was slightly embarrassed. Not of my family, or how many of us are there, but the implication that we’re not normal, or that the world thinks that’s too many kids.

We see or hear it everywhere.

At the grocery store checkout line, when three gallons of milk hit the counter, five quarts of strawberries, two loafs of bread and quantities of goods some families would not use for a month, the clerk just glances at me like I must be throwing a party.

I am, lady. Every night at the kitchen table. You should see bedtime. It’s like a rave.

Nowadays, I just feel bad though.

Oh no, not about us.

I feel bad for those who think that 1) there is a set amount of children that bring happiness and 2) they should certainly voice their opinion in not so subtle ways that lets me know they think my wife and I should have a lobotomy before having another baby.

We may be crazy, but the amount of children that comprise our family has very little to do with our sanity level, frankly.

People boldly ask if we are having anymore: “You guys are done, right?”

But if what was actually being thought was said, it would sound like this: “You can’t possibly want ANOTHER kid? What are you, insane? Why would you do that to yourselves?”

When my wife and I had our youngest a few years back, people wondered if we were trying or if it was an accident.

Um, what’s the difference again?

As someone else recently said in a blog, there is no more or less value to a child that is planned than one that is not.

This stigma that all “normal” families come in twos, one of each gender is a notion that prevents spontaneity and frankly, a true enjoyment of life.

Those that know me know how meticulously I clean and pick-up (even when dinner is still happening). So why would I bring more children into our home to add more cleaning and picking up to my already troublesome synapse that won’t allow me to let it all sit?

Because, it was never my decision to begin with.

Something greater than I put me on a path to meet my wife, for her to already have an 18-month old that I would come to treasure and raise exactly as if he were biologically mine. And something beyond human control decided my wife and I would have the children we have when we had them.

There are many in life that want children and cannot, for a variety of reasons, have them. This is whom I think of when I feel my face turning a little red upon the insinuation we’ve done something weird.

I do not think any of us know what normal is, anyway. We all come from families with diverse and wide-ranging backgrounds, with different beliefs. A wide-collection of blended families, second marriages, steps, in-laws and all the like. yet somehow we end up worried about sleepless nights? You pulled all nighters in college! Dirty clothes? Do you remember how your socks smelled after a ball game as a teenager? Worried about the cost of college? You didn’t mind dropping down money for a guy’s trip to Vegas or a girls shopping weekend in New York.

And I finally reached the point a while ago where I just stopped caring and ignored it. If the need to validate your own decisions comes from a condescending remark to someone you do not know, have at it, hoss.

Just submit your question and you can choose from one of my canned responses:

  • I do not know what I am doing “big picture”
  • I am aware of how much college costs nowadays and we’ll figure it out when the time comes
  • The youngest does indeed have red hair. You may be surprised, but my wife and I have known for some time. You have this many kids and you don’t know what’s coming out.
  • We may or may not have more children. I do not know because my DeLorean is in the shop (something wrong with the flux capacitor).
  • No, they are all different, you know, like you are. So no, that one doesn’t like ketchup, she isn’t a huge fan of onions, that one over there took a little longer to learn to read. In the end, I trust they will manage all the same.

The question we often get is why? Why so many? Why would you put yourself through that kind of running around? Why would you go to Disney World eight years in a row? That’s not a vacation! That’s torture. How can you run around all the time to various events? Aren’t you always cleaning up the kitchen?

Because look at them. They are magnificent. They are filled with wonder. They may each do something really awesome in this world. It might be because we took them to Disney for eight years in a row. It might be because they shared time together and with us.

Because why not?

Because this is normal to us. Because I don’t know what to do when I’m not counting heads. Because the peace and quiet are overrated. Because I act like a kid, it makes it more acceptable to play with their toys and games if they are mine. Because I love my wife. Because I cannot imagine life without each one of them. Because they were meant to be here. Because I like to give advice. Because it’s better to share in their joy and accomplishments than my own. Because they are funny. Because.

It was never our decision to begin with.

As is often the case in life, it’s your perspective that shapes it more than anything. If you think you’d be too tired to care for a large family, to provide them each with individual love and time, as well as a group, then you are right. If you think it’s too much of a burden on your plans, then you are right.

But for us, this was our plan: We have no plan.

We think the same thing we did 10 years ago. My wife and I love one another, our children and we will see where that takes us.

So far, this has been one hell of a trip.

We just needed more car seats than most along the way.

Sorry we’re not sorry. It’s normal to us because something allows us to handle it and cannot allow others to understand it.

As I said, it was not a decision.

It never will be.

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