It was a downright glorious 4th of July weekend here in “LaLa” land. We camped away with family and friends. One of our grandson’s who is about to turn 17 joined in on the fun. While watching him tower over some of the more vertically challenged family members, I found myself pulling out yet another memory from the vault I keep them in.
A few years ago my husband and I took grandson Mikey to a Seattle Mariner’s game. Oh but he was excited and I was determined to milk every moment of my super grandma status for all it’s worth. I had pried my purse strings open (painful as that is for me to do) and actually purchased tickets to something. However as we trudged up step after step to the nosebleed section I realized maybe I should have pried a little harder on those purse strings. Sometimes you do get what you pay for and this was the case here. The nosebleed section is called that for good reason. Having to sit where an oxygen tank should be required was a little disappointing. But, as soon as the bats started crackin’ things quickly got to a fever pitch and I couldn’t help but get caught up in all the excitement. I must have been delirious from all the action and lack of oxygen because I grabbed the grandkid and announced to my husband I was off to get some eats, a giant finger for Mikey and a 6.00 beer! Good lord would the madness never end! Off we went just one lucky grandkid and one blessed grandma. After dropping more than a buck or two we collected all our booty and began the long hike back. While making the climb I happened to notice people were staring at me. I thought I was looking nice but I must have been looking real good that day. Wow, maybe they thought I was Mikey’s Mom. Climbing, carrying food and sucking in my gut and double chin at the same time was quite a feat. But, with each step my confidence grew almost as big as my head. Finally we were to our row and had only to squeeze by several people who looked thrilled to see us coming. As we continually excused ourselves while slipping past fellow spectators the stares continued and I’m sure I was flashing a smile here and there to all my admirers. But darn it, all good things must come to an end and there was a nice lady who just had to let me know as I was just about to the safety of my seat “excuse me ma’am, but your fly is open”.
Wishing you and your many a fun summertime memory