Trophies and Tears

At the end of baseball season they have a ceremony.

Well, that is a bit false. They distribute trophies. In a parking lot. Out of the back of a truck. Followed by a pool party.

There is no pomp and circumstance. There is no difference between the "winners" and the "not winners". There is no recognition for specific people, specific well-doings, or "just showing up".

Don't get me wrong - it was hot. We were pressed for time. I'm glad it was short and went something like, "Thanks. Here you go."
And by the way - that trophy is MUCH nicer than the one we brought home.

Truth is - my son loves trophies. I HATE them. If you won the Nobel Peace Prize - sure, buy a trophy for the occasion. (likely not plastic-brassy-tacky plastic) If you won the little league championship - yes, buy a trophy. My house does not need a trophy to sum up the 2010 season.

What do you DO with these things? They sit around, collect dust, aren't even personalized. They may be "precious" for like a few weeks. Then the next sport season will start - and we will be onto earning the next trophy. (Read that as paying for it with our registration fees.) It saddens me to think of the number of trophies that are likely in the landfills. Does someone recycle these things? (mental note, find way to reuse these things and make a million dollars with your brilliant idea)

So, we have another trophy. Whooppie.

And onto the tears...the reason we were pressed for time was because my little dude is leaving me for 10 whole days to go on vacation with his dad. 10 days. He's never been gone this long. The last time he "went away" he was gone 24 hours before he called crying hysterically and "needing me". It also took about a half a week before he would leave my side (or the house) upon his return.

I'm hoping that a few years of maturity will make this vacation a little less traumatic. But it's still been a little rough on both of us. He called this morning after being on the road for about 5 hours and I could hear the insecurity in his voice. Of course, it's easy to focus on missing you Mom when you are stuck in a car and knowing that you will continue to be stuck in the car for many, many hours to come.

The tears, so far, have only been on my end. Because I hate to let him go. I hate to have him out of reach - in lands unfamiliar to me - in situations that I can not control or protect. It kind of rips me into pieces.

It will be a long number of days. I'm hoping to fill them with projects, appointments, and to-dos. Wish me luck!