Parents

So. . . my parents were in town this past week. 8 days actually. My poor dadio was sick for half of it and the other half my mom was embarassing me. Let me explain. About my mom I mean. My dad's sickness is none of your business - thank you very much.

My mom has had many great jobs in her life - dorm director, secretary at a Radio station, secretary at WCC, church counselor, teacher and most recently she was hired as David Olshine's go to girl. David Olshine is a big wig youth guy in the states. Speaks at all the Youth Specialities events. Yeah, I know. I'm proud of ol mom too. As proud as I am there is one job, one role she plays that continues to cause me ubridled embarassment. That being the role of cheerleader.

Ever since I can remember my mom has been my biggest cheerleader. She has managed to steer clear of spandax and pom poms - atta girl mom - but she hasn't managed to refrain from loud crazy awkward cheers that causes everyone within a square mile to exclaim "what the, who is that." She means well, my mom. She loves her son. I get that. I want that. But with less noise.

I can remember playing bball in high school, heck even in college (Timmy - you probably remember this) and as I'd be gliding down the court or soaring in the air, at least I was in my mind, I'd all of a sudden hear "Yay John, go John George, go. Whoo" Now, I don't know about you but its never easy acting like you can't hear someone when your name is being chanted loud and clear in front of 352 people. And the chanter is your mother. So usually I'd sorta, nodd or wink or quickly wave as if to plead "stop stop, for the love of God please stop" but she'd invariably take the slight recognition as my way of saying "please continue, I love it." And so she did.

Now that was a lifetime ago, a decade at least, and one might think I should be over such things.
Well, I was, I thought had accepted that my mom loves me enthusiatically and simply didn't know how to contain her feelings in public. I was at peace with it. Me and the inner child were finally doing a ok. Now lets fast forward 10 years. To last week.

My mom decided to accompany me to my soccer game. Now remember, I am now 29, married, got 35 kids (see Wyatt's world) and well, I'm as adult as I've ever been. As we arrived at the U of C the thought entered my mind - "I wonder if mom still cheer leads. Surely not. " And then I got an idea, "I'll turn the tables on her. Repay her cheers for some of my own." So I vowed, if I scored I would cheer up a storm. Make her feel my pain. 10 minutes into the game the ball squirted onto my foot and the next thing I knew - BOOM it was in the net. The next few minutes were characterized by me running around the field, similar to Zidane or Ronaldo - except they probably weren't shouting "That was for you mommy. I love you" (yes indeed I said mommy, went for the full child hood descriptor). I probably screamed that half a dozen times, increasing in volume each time. I also hopped and even half took off my shirt exposing my third. . . Anyways my celebration ended with a high five and a sweaty hug. When my cheering ended I waltzed back on the field convinced I had made my point. She was now the object of cheers. She was now asking "Why dear God why?" I had my revenge.

After the game, Ang, the witty sarcastic one from the blogs, came up to me gave me a little hug which I thought was you know, pretty impressive cause truly I stank. It turned out intimacy wasn't what she was after but rather my head as she proceeded to inform me that apparently after "my little escapade" my mom had come alive and resumed her cheering in ways louder then ever before. Because the field was big and the sky provided terrible acoustics I hadn't heard a thing. But Angie assured me that it was ok because she had heard every word and would be more then happy to never share a bed with me again.

As I reflect on my moms cheering ways - I have come to realize that my mom's cheers, as animated as they are, are just her way of shouting to the world that she loves and is proud of her son. And I guess when I reflect on the real reason I cheered for her at soccer its because I feel the exact same way about her. And as embarassing as her cheers can be, I'm sure many a son would give their right leg to have someone, anyone, especially a parent to love them that much.

So it is with a great sigh, and a roll of the eye that I conclude this post by saying:

I love you mom. Cheer on!

John George

P.S. Hope you're feeling better dad.