Somewhere between the first school mornings and the last warm evenings, September found its rhythm. Backpacks by the door. A calendar filling faster than anyone could reasonably keep up with. And, on certain nights, all roads leading to a football field.
It’s funny what becomes the soundtrack of a season. For us, this September sounded like whistles, cheering, the thud of shoulder pads, and the unmistakable voice of a mother who promised herself she would be calm in the stands.
Reader, I was not calm.
Under the Lights
Jase had an incredible game, the kind that leaves a mama with a full heart and absolutely no ability to play it cool. There is something about watching your child do what he loves—and watching him discover just how capable he is—that makes you forget, for a moment, about everything else.
I love the football, of course. The plays, the excitement, the way a good game keeps everyone leaning forward. But what I love most is seeing Jase out there, completely in his element. Confident. Focused. Part of something bigger than himself.
I’ve watched him grow from a little boy into a young man who works hard at something that matters to him. And while I know football is only one part of who he is, seeing that piece of him shine is a gift.
His team finished their regular season undefeated.
Undefeated!
I’d like to report that I handled this development with dignified restraint, but I believe we have already established otherwise.
By the end of September, there was still one game left: the championship on October 4. One more chance for these boys to take everything they’d worked for and leave it on the field. Whatever happened, this season had already given them something worth carrying forward. The practices, the teamwork, the pride of showing up for one another.
But also, boys? Bring it home.
Everybody Has a Part to Play
One of my favorite things about this football season is that it somehow became a family affair, even for the people who aren’t technically playing football.
Sadie has had the best time cheering. Watching her find her own joy on the sidelines has been every bit as fun as watching what happens on the field. She is making her own memories, surrounded by her own people, and I love that for her.
And then there’s Henley.
I wouldn’t go so far as to declare Henley a devoted football fan. Let’s not get carried away. But there has been some almost, occasionally, sort-of enjoyment of the games, which feels like a major breakthrough in family relations.
I’ll take it.
That’s one of the interesting things about raising triplets. They arrived together, but they experience the world in three wonderfully different ways. One on the field, one cheering, one deciding whether any of this deserves undivided attention.
Three different personalities. Three different September stories. All somehow happening at the same time.
And then there are Nana and Papa, proudly watching it unfold. Seeing the grandparents in the stands adds another layer to the evening. These aren’t just football games anymore. They’re the kind of ordinary family gatherings that become memories before anyone realizes it.
The Part I’ll Remember
I know there will be more games and more seasons. More school events, more reasons to gather, more evenings when we’re trying to get everyone where they need to be.
But there won’t be another September exactly like this one.
There won’t be another season when Jase is this age, Sadie is cheering with this particular group, and Henley is perfecting this exact level of reluctant enthusiasm. We can’t keep any of it still, no matter how much we might want to.
And maybe that’s why I find myself paying closer attention lately.
To the lights coming on as the evening gets darker. To the voices calling from the stands. To proud grandparents and laughing siblings and the ride home afterward, when everyone has a slightly different version of what happened.
These moments aren’t particularly grand while we’re living them. They’re just what we do. We find our seats. We cheer for our kids. We go home, put away the things we’ve carried, and start again the next morning.
Someday, though, I suspect we’ll remember the feeling more than the final score.
As September came to a close, there was a championship on the calendar and so much to be proud of already. One more game. One more night. One more chance to watch these kids do what they love.
September, you were loud and busy and so very good to us.
And these were the tiny moments worth keeping.
