Let's Go, Maggie!!

It's March Madness time, and I can't resist getting caught up in it a little, especially when three Utah teams are involved. Before leaving for work Friday, my husband reminded me that Utah State would be playing at 10:30 a.m. I scoffed as I kissed him goodbye. That time of day was not good for me. I mean, what did he think I did, sat around and watched TV all morning? I was still trying to get breakfast dishes done and get dressed for the day at 10:30. As much as I wanted to cheer for the Aggies, I was sure it would not be a reality.

I got busy with my morning routine but couldn't help keeping my eye on the clock. At 10:30 sharp, I found myself turning on the TV, hoping to catch some of the game. Before long, I was sucked in. I looked around my house at everything I still needed to do. I told myself any responsible mother would turn the tube off and get to work. Then, deciding not to be a responsible mother for the day, I shrugged off my chores, grabbed my two little kids, and we hopped in my still unmade bed and started cheering.

"Rebound!" I called and heard a little echo. "Get it! Go!"

Again a little voice beside me mimmicked my plea. "Det it! Do!"

"Yes!!" I cheered when the Aggies scored and held up my hand for a high five. My two little ones didn't let me down. They slapped my hand with excitement, and before long, we were all getting caught up in the moment.

"I know, let's start a cheer," I suggested. "You say 'Let's,' I'll say, 'go,' and you scream, 'Aggies!'" I instructed, giving each child an assignment. They nodded in agreement, and we began shouting at the television.

"Let's . . . go . . .Maggie!"

"What?" I said, looking at my four-year-old. I chuckled as I explained the word was Aggies, not Maggie. I was sure she had no clue as to what an aggie was, and since I didn't know myself until I was a college student, attending Utah State, I decided it was probably pointless to try to explain it to her. I guess Maggie just made more sense to her, because no matter how many times we repeated our cheer, she would say "Maggie," instead of "Aggies." She was definitley an amateur sports fan.

We took a short break at half-time, but resumed our cheering in the third quarter, sitting on the edge of the bed, acting as if this ball game meant everything. No matter what I said, my kids repeated it with fervor. Regyn was especially excited about the cheering (I'm afraid cheerleading might be in her future, which would be a whole new experience for a mother who prefers playing the game, rather than cheering others on). "Yes!" she shouted.

"No!" I said back. "The yellow team just scored. We're rooting for the blue team."

"But the ball went in the basket. Didn't you see that?" she asked, as if I was stupid. It was obvious this girl hadn't watched enough basketball (or any other sport, for that matter) since she didn't seem to understand the concept of only cheering for one team. I didn't care. I was in my zone, sitting between two of my favorite little people in the whole world, watching a fantastic basketball game.

There are times as a mother when you stop and realize life couldn't get any better than this, when you are able to block out everything else and just be in the moment with your children, soaking up every bit of their goodness and optimism and love. Snuggling between my two youngest children, I realized this was one of those moments, and I never wanted it to end. I know my days of plastering them with undetested hugs and kisses are numbered, that my opportunities to hold them and snuggle with them and teach them are passing quickly, and I just wanted to stop the clock and take it all in.

But all too soon, the doorbell rang and Regyn ran off to play with her friend.

I was left with only Boston to help me try to get the Aggies through to the next round. As I sat on the edge of the bed and moaned when the buzzer sounded and the Aggies were one point short of a victory, I felt some pudgy arms around my neck. "I'm sorry, Mom," my little cheering partner murmured in my ear. I took him in my arms and held him close for as long as he would let me.

That night when I put Boston to bed, I couldn't help but cheer one more time. "Let's go . . . "

He didn't let me down. "Aggies!" he said with a grin. Apparently he had caught on better than Regyn had. I pulled the covers up to his chin, gave hime one last goodnight kiss and went to bed happy to be a mother. I couldn't help but wonder as I walked away, if I would ever be able to cheer for Utah State again without remembering the sweet moments I had shared that day with my kids.

I sure hope not.