I’ve seen my fair share of softball this summer. And I love it. I particularly enjoy watching the pitcher. (Both Taylor and Madison are pitchers.) 

But actually, my girls aren’t the only pitchers around here. Lately I've been doing some pitching of my own. Don't worry, I’m not throwing a ball. I'm pitching story ideas to my editor. 

The other night at Taylor's game, I noticed a similarity between pitching story ideas and pitching softballs. Normally I block out all the chatter during games, but this time I listened. I listened to her teammates …

“Come on Taylor, you’ve got this.”

“One pitch at a time, Taylor. Just one pitch at a time.”

I listened to the fans on the bleachers ...

“You can do this!”

“Great pitch! Just one more!”

When it comes to pitching, Taylor isn't alone. She has people all around her, cheering her on.

And fortunately, so do I.

My girls keep pitching - even during tough innings. And I will too. Sure it's great to be a winner, but I'll keep pitching anyway. Just because I love to play the game. 

"Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game." - Babe Ruth

In the mood for a little more light reading?  Check out my story, The Lucky Ones. It's one of my favorite stories of growing up on a farm during the summer. 

"We had a creek, but they had a pool. So why did they think we were the lucky ones?"

Check it out!

People have been giving parents the same advice for decades ... “Enjoy your kids because they grow up fast.” 

I’ve heard that advice for sixteen years now. But honestly, I’ve never been more aware of this fact than I am right now.  

Emily has her driver’s license and a car and can run off to volleyball practice or meet friends for lunch – all on her own. Taylor is starting high school and babysits other people’s kids and is now as tall as me. And Madison is starting junior high – and she isn’t far behind her sisters!

If you’re detecting a bit of panic in my voice, you are absolutely right.

This summer I am feeling the need to slow down. Make memories with my kids. I can’t stop time, so I need to MAKE time. And here’s how I plan to do it.

From now until the end of August, I will be trying a new format on my blog. I’ll still meet you here every Tuesday; it’ll just look a little different each week.

Maybe I’ll show you what I’ve been up to. Maybe I’ll share some random thoughts or ramblings from the past week. Or perhaps I’ll reveal my deepest, darkest secrets. (Nah … I just wanted to get your attention there.) But seriously, I have some fun ideas that I can’t wait to share with you!

My blog will likely be short and sweet. However, in the event that you need a little extra reading material, I will also share a link to some of my favorite posts from the past.

I hope you’ll enjoy this new format. (And I hope my life is interesting enough to keep you stopping by!) But most of all, I hope you’ll also take time to make some great memories this summer. Let me know how it’s going for you.

Until next week …

Sheri

Hey everyone!

Break-ups can be scary. Messy. Painful. And so can becoming a mom. (And I’m not even referring to the labor and delivery part!) Transitioning into motherhood can be difficult. 

Today I'm sharing my thoughts on the Quad City Moms Blog about becoming a new mom. Because sometimes motherhood can feel like a break-up.... with ourselves.

I'd love for you to check it out!

Have a great week,

Sheri

Lately (at the Zeck house) we've been talking about jobs. More specifically, we’ve been talking with a certain sixteen-year-old girl who needs a job because she now has this: 

I find it interesting. As my kids go through various stages, I'm also reminded of that time in my own life. Especially momentous occasions, like getting my driver’s license (I actually flunked the first time I took it!), buying my first car (it was a Plymouth Laser), and getting a REAL job. (A real job was something other than detasseling corn or babysitting.)  

I can’t say my first job was momentous, but it was definitely memorable. I remember walking into that sweltering kitchen on my first night of making doughnuts. Okay, so it wasn’t my ideal career choice; but I was young, and we all have to start somewhere. My boss tossed me an apron and pointed to a large pot on the stove.  

“Well, go ahead. Get started!” Then she spun around and left the room. 

So there I stood with my silly apron, a couple of spatulas, and a huge batch of bubbling blobs of batter. I took a deep breath. I’d never made doughnuts before. (I’m not sure I’d ever even cooked before.) But I figured, how tough could it be? 

The doughnuts were beginning to brown underneath, so I carefully used the spatulas to flip each one ever-so-gently, making sure not to splatter hot grease everywhere. But just as I was in mid-flip (probably around doughnut #3), the boss-lady returned. 

“No, no, no, that’s not how you do it!” She snatched my spatulas with a look of disgust and quickly flipped them herself. “You gotta do it like this.”