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About This Author
Robin Bateman is the facilities manager of two sites -- John Drew Smith & Tattnall Tennis Centers -36 courts in Macon, Ga., where she coordinates tennis programs and leagues, is a tournament director, serves as a team captain, and assists junior teams competing at district, regional, and section events.
Bateman is a contributing editor for Racquet Sports Industry Magazine, the communications director for TennisConnect, and an author and moderator for http://www.Writing.Com/ which is a site for Writers.
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Thank My Lucky Stars Oh great! She’s gonna be late again. How many detentions will this make? Four? Five? I don’t know. I’ve lost count. Forking out punishments left and right hasn't solved the problem. Morning is not her best time of day. Did I spend THAT much time in front of the mirror when I was a teenager? If I missed the bus, mom made sure housecleaning followed - and lots of it. Nothing fazes my second born. She just moves slowly, oblivious to the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. How bad of a mother would I be, if I encouraged my almost 16-year old daughter to drink caffeine?
When we climb into the Avalanche, everyone is angry. Oh wait ‘scuz me, sorry, T.O’ed. gotta get my slang up to speed. Where was I, ah yes, Ticked off; all three of us – me, hubby, and Laney. Bryan is driving so I grab the paper, scanning the headlines, my brain too angry -oh, I mean ticked to really read the articles. Then, I see it, a quote from a mother, Christe – whose family was separated during the aftermath of Katrina. Some of them made it to Georgia. For weeks, she could not locate all of her children. (She has five) “I couldn’t sleep, or eat. I would not wish this on anybody. Not even my worst enemy,” the paper quoted her saying. A picture showed all members had finally made it to Georgia. All hugs and smiles.
My anger melts. How can I, after all, be so ticked? I've never really had to worry about the safety of my children, where they were, or fear they might be dead. The possibility of the experience is inconceivable to me. I say a quick prayer I never have to know.
I make small talk with my daughter for the remainder of the ride to school. “Love you,” I tell her while she grabs her back pack and purse, jumping out of the car. “See ya this afternoon.” She gives me a smile. Saying ‘I love you.’ to me while in the presence of friends is too embarrassing for her.
Today, I know I’m lucky. Why can’t I always embrace this feeling?
 
Robin (Mom) Autumn & Laney
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