It's nearly 9 o'clock here. I got up about 8 and all of the kids are still in bed. I could get used to this vacation schedule!
Especially when I think of what's coming in the next three months...
I dread basketball season like some people dread the holidays or a root canal or a colonoscopy.
But, unlike the root canal or colonoscopy where I might get some sympathy from my family, when it comes to basketball, I am out in the cold.
John loves basketball. It is his favorite sport. He can remember specific moments of games he played twenty years ago - not just tournament games - but everyday regular season games. And then he can describe games he watched on TV, games he saw in person, games he heard about from a buddy.
And now that he's coaching? Ugh. We go out on a date and he talks basketball! He doesn't seem to be able to stop himself. And if I finally convince him to stop talking to me about it, I know that his mind is racing with strategies and drills and questions.
This passion is slowly infecting our children, too. William is pretty much a goner. He is on the team John coaches and so they can talk basketball for long periods of time.
Micah and Johanna are less infected but they both play on teams for Liberty and, in practical terms, this means that 90% of our after-school time is dedicated to basketball and its fall-out: practice, travel, games, showers, exhaustion, etc.
What redeems this whole thing and makes basketball season palatable for me is that I see my husband and my kids sharing something, connecting in new ways, making memories. Not just memories of basketball, which I'm sure John will be able to recount to our grandchildren ("When your dad was in 8th grade, during this one game..."), but memories of working, hoping and playing together.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll make it to March.