It is easy to become frustrated with you when you haven’t been home for the 400th meltdown and for the 50th fight requiring a referee. It’s easy to not care about what you’ve been doing while I have been handling the home front, but I do truly care.
This week when I contemplated that phrase again, I realized that it comes with a great deal of freedom too. The things that are “up to me” may mean that I am going to have to complete more tasks solo, but you know what else? It is also up to me to be the one who says which things are worthy of ...
If you give a coach a scrap of paper, he’s going to want a pen. When you give the coach the pen, he will draw a play on that scrap paper. After he draws the play, he is probably going to want a chair to sit down and think about it.
Heading east on I-40, somewhere between Shawnee and Checotah, the man to whom I had given my heart and my word—“where you go, I will go”— reached across the front seat of our blue 1991 Pontiac Sunbird, placed his hand on my thigh, and uttered these words, “Thanks, Babe. People get divorced over ...
This is one of those times when what’s going on at home can be prioritized over what’s going on at the field, even if it’s just for a few hours.