Thanks Giving

There are many ways to thank someone. You can say thank you, send a thank-you note, send flowers, or rub up against someone’s leg. By the way, that last one only works if you’re a small furry animal; don’t try that one at work.

Last night, I attended Nathan’s soccer banquet. To be truthful, I never looked forward to these events; it wasn’t because I didn’t want to support Nathan in his athletic endeavors. I had lost all feeling in my fingers during April soccer games and then lost all feeling in my toes at December hockey games. I was a jock strap! (That’s an athletic support for all of you who can’t read between the words.)

[Okay, I can’t believe I just typed that, but I thought it was funny in the moment, though a tad lame. So, it’s staying up there in that paragraph. Remember: My blog, people!]

One reason I didn’t like these events was because I didn’t live in the town that Nathan went to school in; however, his Dad did. The other reason I didn’t like these events was because I didn’t live in the town that his Dad did; we were divorced. While things were never acrimonious between his Dad and I, these banquets seemed to be like a larger-than-life play analysis, like the ones you see written over the football players on TV, showing the distinct and separate families sitting miles away from each other, even though they shared a play, Nathan.

At least last night, I had a “date.” Iz came with me. When we entered the high school cafeteria, many of the tables were fully occupied; thus, Iz and I sat down at a table that had not yet had any occupants.

We stuck out like a sore thumb. About five minutes later, Nate’s Dad walked in, said “Hi,” and presumably walked off to sit with other people; I heaved a sigh.

I then thought, “Screw it.” This was the last one of these I’d ever have to attend; well, at least for another 7 or 8 years. I was always the odd person out given the way I dressed every now and then; what did it matter if I was the odd person out at the soccer banquet for one last time?

Just then, Nathan and Joey walked by. Nathan saw me and said “Hi, Mom.” I said, “Hi.”

Within ten seconds, Joey said, “Hi, Mom!” too. I was surprised, pleased, and then I smiled. I said, “Hi, Joey!” and then I said to myself, “Thanks, Joey.”

You always want your kids to love and respect you. Some days this happens; some days it doesn’t. But, a day doesn’t get any better than when your son’s friend calls you “Mom,” which later I wondered might really be Joey’s way of saying “Thank you,” again even if he already had said it every time he had visited.

During the banquet, Nathan passed by me with a plate of food. He came to the table, stopped, and knelt down to talk to me; knowing him as I do, I immediately thought, “Uh-oh, good cop parent.” He said quite matter-of-fact, “I’m not going to ask Dad this, but Wednesday is a half day. It’s really a waste of a day. So, can I not go to school and go to see the latest Harry Potter movie instead?”

I laughed; no, it wasn’t out loud. I laughed inside. Nathan and I were beyond the art of the deal; we both knew exactly what the deal was now, given that he spoke to me frankly.

Smiling, I said, “Sure.” He said, “Sweet.” He walked off to join his fellow players at the table; just then, alone at the table with Iz, I didn’t feel so alone.

It felt like we were miles apart from the other parents from “the town.” I can’t say it didn’t hurt that Nate’s Dad didn’t sit with us or ask us to join him with the parents he knew at another table. In the end, I knew my son might not tell me everything, but he was going to tell me most things, for which he’d at least accept or deny my input; I don’t think his Dad would ever carry the same weight.

Today, I texted Nathan to tell him that I was going to call the absence line while I remembered. Totally engulfed by a deadline for the last month, I wasn’t wearing my underwear inside out yet, but I was feeling like I should do my best to address things before their time. So, I wanted to call the absence line a day early.

I listened to their canned message about leaving my name, my number, Nathan’s name, his grade, and the reason for his absence. When I heard “beeeeeeeeeeeeeep,” I said, “My son will be traveling, so he will miss the half day on Wednesday.” At the same time, another voice said simultaneously, “Because I am a good cop Mom, I have been convinced by my son that attending a half day of school on Wednesday is a waste. I’ve also been informed by said son that a much better use of his time is attending the new Harry Potter movie. And, for this, I will always have his unconditional love and affection.”

After I left my message, I texted Nathan. I said, “Okay, you are officially sprung for tomorrow. You owe me.” He replied, “Yah, yah,” which I knew meant “Thank you, Mom. You can live with in my basement when you are 65.”

Thank you is always different. It’s said in gestures, and it’s said differently in language and said differently in other languages. I think it’s always important to say “thank you,” and the best thing about thank you is when it’s unique. You’re welcome, Joey and Nathan. ♥