SOLSC: “Don’t You Think Someone Should Go?”

Our oldest is a senior with college fastly approaching. He is asked, I am asked, “What’s Wesley’s plans?” “Has he chosen a college yet?” “What does he want to major in?” Wes has the answers, well most of them, but honestly, the plans will not be finalized until May, toward the end of baseball season.

You see, Wes LOVES baseball. He has since he was young. To play in the major leagues, even for a brief time, is his dream. I know, I know, you say, “Ya, but how many baseball players actually make it?” I don’t know. What I do know is that Wes wants to play baseball in college and take it from there. I also know that I want to provide and support my son in his dreams. What college Wes goes to depends on playing for a baseball team.

A couple of weeks ago, a nearby college baseball coach called and asked Wes to tryout for their team. I really had not thought Wes would attend there. I guess I just envisioned him to be away. Tomorrow is the tryout. “Don’t you think someone should go with you?” I asked Wes that day. He shrugged. “I’m just going to pitch.”  (AKA, I’ll be fine.)

I spoke with my husband about it later. “Don’t you think someone should go with him?”

“I have to work,” was the reply. He felt Wes would be fine, maybe even wanting to be independent. This I frowned at. (I am his mom, you know.)

“Yeah, but don’t you think someone should go?” My question resonated. Wait. That someone means me.

Last night, after baseball practice, I asked Wes. “What’s the plan for Wednesday?” to which he then said he was meeting at eleven o’clock and pitch.

Today, we headed to an appointment and I had him trapped in the van for an hour. Lucky me. We began talking about tomorrow.

“Don’t you think someone should go?” I nudged.

“Why? I’m just going to throw,” was his matter-of-fact-confident-I-can-do-this reply.

“Yeah, but don’t you think someone should go?” This question seemed familiar.

“What are you going to do?” Wes replied.
“I don’t know. I probably will just be sitting there, watching.” (And praying and cheering silently and… learning to let go). “I just think someone should go just in case there are questions or I have questions. I could be there.” My mind was thinking about several synopsis, and the unknown had me wondering more than anything.

At this, Wes turned toward me, smiled, and said, “If it will make you feel better, you can come. I’m fine with that.”

I think my son figured out that his mom is trying to support and not be too pushy, be loving while realizing he’s becoming an adult. He’s figuring out that this mom needs to be there just because she has been there all the time.

I love you, Wes.