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As an aspiring writer, I blog about whatever happens to move me at the moment -- though some posts contain serious content, my big-picture goal is to bring a little humor into an often humorless world! Welcome, y'all, and make yourself at home! Please make sure you update your bookmarks!

When you are offended at any man's fault, turn to yourself and study your own failings. Then you will forget your anger...Epictetus

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Set to Kill

Well, it's over.

Volleyball, that is. The big regional competition was in Charlotte, NC, last weekend. Carrie's team played very well on Friday and Saturday but, on Sunday, they just didn't have it together and they were eliminated after the first match. Well, you know what they say, you win some, you lose some...

I would have loved to see them win at least one match -- because this was Carrie's last hurrah with the CSRA Heat, the volleyball club she's played in for five years -- it would have been nice to have exited winning, rather than losing but, again, that's just the way it is.

Her tears were contagious after the last game -- before I knew it, I was sobbing like a baby. Hugging her, I told her it wasn't because they had lost but because it was the end of an era, not only for her but for me. My oldest daughter played for the Heat (then called by a different name) and for various reasons we didn't get to go to many of her games but, with Carrie, we pretty much made them all -- that's what happens, I guess -- the last child at home becomes, for awhile, an "only" child and, with that, gets all the benefits.

I've never been the "team mom" or "room mother" type but, during the last few years, I've served as team mom three times (including this year) and was pretty much it for one other time when the titular team mom pretty much turned it over to me toward the end. For the most part, I had parents who responded and did what was asked. When parents do what they're supposed to, it makes the job a lot easier.

Will I miss it? No, not the team mom part -- nor will I miss the early morning traveling to various locations -- or sitting on my butt all day (it's amazing how sitting can wear you out). I will miss seeing Carrie play. Maybe one day, Shannon and Carrie can play a game together -- now that would be a sight! The long and short of it -- considering Shannon is 5'10" and Carrie is...not.

Carrie served as setter the last few years, not only on the Heat team but on her high school team as well. She goes to a Catholic school and their motto is the same as Notre Dame -- the Fightin' Irish. So, we called her our "Irish Setter". If you don't know volleyball, the setter is basically the quarterback of a volleyball team. She pretty much has her hands on every ball -- she determines where to set it so that the hitter can hit it. She also had some moves of her own -- tipping the ball over the net when the other team didn't expect it. Carrie is actually left-handed but she uses her right-hand a lot -- but with tipping, it could be one or the other. Carrie was a good server, too -- something she also did right-handed. Like everybody else, there were days she was on and some she was off -- but when she was on, her serves were hard to return.

Volleyball is a great sport because all shapes and sizes can play. They need tall girls, for hitting and "killing", but they need shorter ones, too, because tall girls have trouble "digging" the ball. And, quite often, the setter will be one of the shorter girls -- on this team, this year, Carrie was the shortest one of all. But sometimes tremendous power comes in small packages.

So, at the end of the game last Sunday, I cried. I cried because it was the end. And, somewhere in there, I cried for all the other volleyball, basketball, baseball and soccer games that are over, too.
They do grow up, don't they? And, that's the way it's supposed to be.

And then there will be grandchildren and it starts all over again. Well, sort of. At least then, I won't have to be responsible for anything...

And I'm certainly not going to be Team Granny...

But, then again...

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  1. All these milestones of growing up are so poignant.

  2. They really are -- and when it's the last child, they take on even greater meaning -- not because the last child is more important but simply because it's the "end" of so many things. And, of course, new beginnings!