Today marks the end of another school year, which, beginning when my oldest was 5, is more important a measure of time than the ball dropping on New Year’s Eve in Times Square.  I’ve learned a lot this year. A LOT.  I disappeared from this blog, among many other places.  Much of my online communication has become fairly generic.  We’ve moved into a new phase of life, in which even the adorable things said by my preteen & teen aren’t owned by me, and thus can’t be shared without great thought.  However, I’m pulling the “41” card and allowing myself the luxury of this, a public message about my little people (and the big one).  Starting with the littlest…

LONDON:

What a ride. What a ride!  I have never seen such leaps and bounds in one person, over one school year.  For her entire angelic first year of life, when London traipsed around with me whenever and wherever, I used to look in her eyes and think, there is a lot going on in there.  Someday it’s going to come out.  And it did, particularly at home or with family.  She’s been a crazy one her whole life, and brings so much of the fun to our family (as captured by the classic videos, “There’s a Box in My Bathtub” and “I. Love. CHEESE!” among others).  Genuinely interesting and hilarious, she is that cliché child who brightens any room into which she walks.  And not just because of her wild golden curls.  The downside is that she spent many years at school banking on that charm, concealing very real struggles in learning.  Until now.

After her incredible compensatory skills were finally overshadowed by her challenges at the end of 4th grade, we knew (with our help) that she would either seize her own opportunity for success, or try (and fail) to get by on charm alone.  As a parent, there comes a time where you can’t really force something.  There has to be buy-in and commitment from the child, too.

London did it. She bought in. What I have seen this year is the beginning of belief in, and fulfillment of, who God created London to be, by London. She decided who she wanted to be, and that is who she is becoming.  Now, she’s only 11…these are big overarching sentiments that gloss over a wealth of daily struggles.  But the child I drove to school this morning is a completely different child than the one who started school in August (in a wonderful, bigger, brighter way).   With the help and belief of some key adults at school, for whom I am forever grateful, London hopped off the fence.  To Ms. Heflin, who cared enough to visit with me and provide resources and ongoing encouragement, even after London aged out of her “elementary” domain…to Ms. Urbanek, who revolutionized London’s self-confidence about math and academics in general…and to Ms. Arnold, whose strict standards and high expectations in dance, balanced by her evident love for her dancers, grew London leaps and bounds in personal pride and responsibility…there are not enough thanks from this lady.

I have no idea what to expect from London in the years to come. She is a surprise, all the time.  She is silly and crazy and smiley on the surface, and she is a deep thinker and feeler inside.  She hides hurt well…just ask us how many years she refused to wear her hair down after one too many “backwards compliments” about it.  She watches, all the time, taking in the lay of the land, and responds accordingly.  My challenge will be to help steer her in those responses, as the lay of the land gets trickier and the choices others make take a dive.  She has the very best older girl cousins to look up to, which is a lovely thing for a preteen girl today.   I just can’t wait.

TEXAN:

Ah, 7th grade boy.  An entirely different species. I spent far too much of this year saying, “why didn’t anyone tell me?”  Which is, of course, ridiculous.  I grew up with two older brothers, and my nephews started prepping me years ago…but it’s different when it is YOUR kid!

From the day Texan was born, that was it…he was my buddy.  Not my “friend” – don’t get me confused with parents who want to be their kids’ friends – but my buddy.  Just as there is a special relationship between a mom and daughter, there is a THING between a mom and son that just IS.  No way to really describe it.  At least, I haven’t figured out how to.

An inevitable part of that THING is the eventual separation that has to happen as a boy struggles his way through to growing into a man.  It’s not a loss of love for his mother, or respect. It’s simply a change.  A daughter’s number one woman in life can be her mother, forever, without necessarily interfering in her eventual marriage (although, there’s a whole other blogpost in that sentence – another time, y’all).  A son, however, has to be able to transition his greatest love from mom to wife.  By definition, there can only be ONE “number one” so – sorry, Mom!  🙂

Now, that separation has been going on for years, slowly and in small increments, but the onset of teenager-hood ramps it up into a different level of interesting.  I find it very hard to be the mother of a 7th grade boy, at least this one (my only experience with it).  I cannot be rational about Texan, which is shocking considering how rational I can be about pretty much anything else.  I have watched his victories and challenges this year, some of which have been huge.  He has had some of the same social struggles I had at the same age, which makes me hurt all the more knowing how it made me feel at the time.  I have seen kids act as his friend one day, and the next tell him he’s only achieving what he is achieving because his dad has connections or his family is “loaded” (um, did you SEE me cleaning the bathroom at Triple Play last week? Or was it the 2003 and 2005 cars we’ve been driving that tipped you off?).  I have watched as girls have responded to the fact that he finds them genuinely interesting and can have a decent conversation with them…and I’ve seen boys respond to the same thing somewhat differently.  I have struggled with his insane pattern of growth, to which I cannot relate AT ALL, and felt very small in my ability to help him navigate through.  BUT I have seen a ton of fun…just seeing the light in his eyes and the joy in his face as he really, truly discovered basketball this year has been worth everything.

But what I have mainly observed is how that kid just keeps going. He adapts, and keep moving forward.  For a little boy who always hated change, and for whom a little shift in daytime schedule could induce night terrors, it is incredible to me to watch him grow up.  It is more evident to me every day that children truly do not belong to us, but are just on loan from God.  There is so much awesomeness about him that doesn’t come from me, or from Ryan, but is simply – Texan.  It’s why I just can’t get too stressed out about mistakes or concerns that I see my peers so upset about. If there was ever a kid about whom you could say, “oh, it’ll come around,” it is Texan.  When we named him, we didn’t realize how apropos that name would be. He is big in every way, just as any good Texan should be.  I’ve said it a million times…I just love that kid.

KJOS:

And of course, there’s Kjos.  THE Kjos.  You hear very little from me about Ryan.  He chooses not to be a part of social media, and I respect that choice and his privacy – most of the time.  But back to my spirit of “41,” I’m rebelliously putting it out there for the whole world to see, just this once.

Two things initially drew me to Ryan, 20+ years ago.  The first happened during our very first face to face conversation, when he never took his eyes off me to do the infamous “scan the room” all college guys seem to do when talking to a girl. Not only that, he asked me specific questions in response to what I said that showed me he was listening, and interested.  I’ve told Texan (and indeed, teenage boys I’ve worked with in youth ministry across the years) that there isn’t much better you can with a girl than that.

The second was watching him pitch. Not because I liked pseudo-celebrity college baseball players (“Can’t Touch that Stuff of Kjos” read the headlines that year).  But because I love to watch people do what they are brilliant at, and I love people who have unwavering commitment and work ethic about whatever they love to do.  WAY before Derek Jeter said it, Ryan lived out Jeter’s oft-quoted observation that people may have more talent than you but there’s no excuse for anyone to work harder.  Ryan was that way about baseball until the day his shoulder said “forget it” – then transferred that dedication to the next thing. I’ve never seen someone who gives more when it matters.

In addition to years of working to build Triple Play Sportsplex, this was Ryan’s third year of coaching high school baseball at Gateway College Prep, which is a public charter school that does “more with less” since we do not get property tax money.  Most charter schools don’t even bother with UIL competition in anything – sports, academics, fine arts – because that missing money is what funds those programs at traditional public schools.  Gateway is unusual in its level of UIL participation.

The first season Ryan coached, he had 11 eligible players.  Eleven. For those of you who don’t know much about baseball, you have to have 9 players on the field, and pitchers have limits on how much they can throw, so 11 players is basically ridiculous. This year, he had enough players to field both JV and Varsity, and got the school’s first ever playoff win for a team sport, reaching Regional Quarter Finals for the first time in school history.  Yes, I’m bragging a bit.  Our school is not allowed to recruit players from other schools/districts, and Ryan doesn’t.  He does not use ineligible players. He does not cheat the system. He simply looks at what he has, and he coaches.

There is no way to communicate to you what a challenging job this is.  For one thing, there’s a TON of stuff that happens with these various players that would violate their privacy if I told you.  Suffice it to say, teenagers have HARD lives.  People have HARD lives.  HARD things.  A high school baseball coach is easily as much a counselor and minister as a coach.

But per usual, Ryan handles coaching – and kids – with a single-minded dedication and a pursuit of excellence far beyond a high school level. He has a respect for the game, and resulting high standards for players and play, that is puzzling to many.  Don’t get me wrong, he is in it to win it, but his primary focus is seeing players learn how the game is played, and play it well – flawlessly, even.  And, despite the fact that half the teenage boys of the world are so awash in change that they can hardly walk in a straight line…they do it!

My greatest observation this year about Ryan Kjos is this.  He owns our name in this town.   I’ve never understood it more than I have this year. Whether through Triple Play (celebrating 10 years this fall!) or Gateway College Prep, Ryan has built a solid reputation for the Kjos name.  He takes his reputation, and ours as a family, very seriously.  He makes me very proud to be his wife.  As I’ve said for years, he’s the only thing that makes me silly…the only thing that makes me blush.

We are going to close out this long, strange, challenging, exhilarating year with another trip to the campsite at Cutfoot.  I can’t wait.  Anyone who made it this far, I appreciate your indulging me in this singularly selfish ode to my people.  They deserve it.  Friends – “keep your stick on the ice.”