A lot of people don’t know that I raised five children. I think my bio on my websites says I raised a large family. Yup five kids is a large family! You can imagine there are lots of funny stories that come along with raising that many unique individuals. And unique they are! Each one of them vastly different from the others. So, every once in a while, I plan to throw up a funny or endearing memory on this blog. I asked the kids if there was anything, they could remember that would make a good blog post. No one came up with anything so here we go….they can’t complain as I offered!  

Let’s start with my youngest son. He’s child #4 in the pecking order and he was the fourth boy in a row for us. After having three boys in three years, I decided enough was enough and any thoughts of continuing to add children to our family were stopped. Well that only lasted five years! Then the desire to have a daughter kept plaguing me and we tried one more time. In an age before gender reveals we were neither surprised nor sad when the doctor announced, “It’s a boy!”  I think I just rolled with it! I was a Boy Mom and one more wouldn’t change that!

This son, the baby in a house full of school age boys, was different from the start. I have never met a more determined individual in my life. Born with a basketball in his hand (and that’s a story for another blog) he was determined to keep up with his much older siblings on the court no matter what. But that determination transferred to his life in general or he was just born with a really strong since of determination. Either way it is an otherworldly since of determination if you want to know the truth!

Take the school spring fair as an example. I think he was about six years old at the time. The school that one of his older brothers attended was hosting their annual spring fair to raise money for the PTA. As we always did, we attended all of the events like this as we were very involved in all the school communities.

By this time, I now have five children ages 13, 12, 11, 6 & 5. The minute the sliding door on that minivan opened they were gone. Each one of them shot out of there like rockets, some headed to meet their friends, others just anxious to be the first to scope out the games and food. Soon they would trickle back asking for money to buy tickets and then off again. Occasionally one would appear asking me to hold the prizes won from the fishing game or the ducks in the pond game. I think my daughter came back with a gluey, glitter concoction sliding all over on a piece of cardboard. I was given strict instructions not to tip it until it dried! I set it down on the picnic table in the sun and hoped it dried before I had to transport it home.

In those days we didn’t keep the kids close by, especially at something like a school fair. I sat on picnic tables with the other mothers socializing and our kids were free to enjoy themselves in a safe environment without us hovering over them.

So when it was time to head for home I knew I would have to wrangle up the kids. Corralling five children and convincing them to head for the minivan was a task I was equal too and after some time I had managed to get four of them at least headed toward the parking lot. But I was unable to find my #4 son.

Wondering around the school I stuck my head into each classroom that was being used for games and crafts. I couldn’t find him in any of them and was starting to become slightly worried when I checked the very last classroom at the end of the hall. This room was hosting the Cake Walk and there was my boy standing in line patiently waiting for a turn to walk and hopefully win a cake.

 I motioned to him and told him we had to leave. He shook his head vehemently. So, I walked into the room and up to him in line and told him again it was time to go. He looked me right in the eye and said, “I can’t go yet, I’m going to win that cake.” And he pointed to the table laden with cakes. Standing just slightly higher than all the other cakes around it I saw what had grabbed his attention. It was a cake shaped and decorated to look like a basketball.

“No, no, no. You don’t need that cake.” I said thinking of how much all of that sugar would fuel the chaos that already existed in my house! “And this is a game of chance, you may not even win.”I needed to get him out of line, I had to get home and start dinner!

“Buddy, come on, we have to go.” I pleaded with him. “Mom you don’t understand, I’m going to win that cake.” By now I was very familiar with his sense of determination. When he set his mind on something he could not be swayed. And he was firm in his resolve.  He didn’t say “I need to win that cake.” Or “I want to win that cake.” He said he was “going to win that cake.” Fair enough, I backed off. He was next in line to have a go at the Cake Walk anyway so the wait wouldn’t be long, and I thought this might actually work to my advantage. Losing his dream cake at age six would be a great teaching moment. Might spare him from a lifetime of scratch tickets in the lottery! So, I backed off, stood next to the wall and waited to see him lose.

For those unfamiliar with what a Cake Walk is, there are usually 15 – 20 squares taped out on the floor in a circle or oval. Usually this is done with brightly colored pieces of construction paper. The yellow, orange and red creating a rainbow circle in the center of the classroom.  Each square has a number on it written in black marker and always in those perfectly formed numbers that only teachers can manage to write. When the game starts, the students are asked to step forward and stand on a square. Music is then played, and the children walk around the circle, carefully stepping from one square to the next until the music stops. At this point a teacher will lift a basket full of numbers written on little slips of paper. She pulls one from the basket and reads the number out loud. Whichever child is standing on that number wins their choice of a cake from the table.

They ushered the next round of children onto the squares and my son stood there with a big smile on his face. He waved at me as he waited for the music to start. I waved back thinking how I was going to have to soothe his little heart on the way home. A basketball cake was like a cake made in heaven just for my son. This was going to crush him.

The music started and I watched as his little blond head moved around the room. He took big steps as he reached his foot forward to step onto the next square. Apparently stepping anywhere on the unmarked floor was taboo. Once in a while his arms would flail out as he tried to keep his balance. Eventually the music stopped, and my son looked down at his number. He was on square number 22. He looked up at me and smiled and then turned his attention to the teacher. I held my breath as she reached for the basket. Heard the rustle of paper slips as she mixed them up all good before choosing one. Through the late afternoon sunshine that was streaming through the huge windows in that school I could see the dust particles float between her and I. I held my breath, and it seemed like it was all happening in slow motion. “Number 22!” she announced!

I watched as my six-year-old son walked right toward the table of cakes and pointed to the basketball cake. “That one” he said to the other teacher whose job it was to hand out the cakes. “That’s my cake.” He spoke. She smiled, knowing our family and our love of basketball. As she handed it to him, she said “It’s almost like it was made just for you!”  I watched as the bright orange mound of cake and frosting with its black piping and realistic shape was transferred into his little hands. He looked up at her and said, “It was.”

I’ve remembered this story for many years as I watched that little boy grow into a man, he’s thirty years old now. At the time we all laughed about his sense of determination to win that cake. There was no question in his mind that he was going to take that cake home. It was just a matter of walking the circle and waiting for the number to be called. Didn’t matter which number, it was going to be his number, he knew it even if no one else did.  That was just part of who he was, so sure of himself, even at that age.  But now, as I’ve watched him just as assuredly step into other things in his life and watched those things become realities for him, just as that cake did, I’m beginning to wonder.  

Does he create his own opportunities in life because he is so certain of what he wants? And can any of us do that as well?  Just step confidently toward what you want out of life, fully believing that you will receive it, and because of that belief you do. Could it really be as simple as that?