The crock pot is earning a permanent spot on the counter, the calendar is a rainbow of color-coded activity schedules, and the van is stocked with blankets, jackets, bottled water, granola bars, and sunflower seeds.
You know what all this means, don’t you?
It is officially baseball season!
I have a love-hate relationship with baseball season. I am always so excited to see it come and so excited to see it go!
This is the time of year when my house never truly gets cleaned for three months straight. My home-from-work routine consists of “Hihowwasyourday?Tellmeaboutitonthewaytothefield.Grabajacket.Gopottybeforewego.DoyouhaveyourPoweradeandseeds?Takesomefoodandeatitontheway.Everybodyloadup.Let’sgo,go,go!”
Oh, the chaotic schedule; the freezing nights at the ball field; the late bedtimes, fast dinners, tired children, and missed baths.
Oh, the joy on my sons’ faces when they get to pitch, or they make the All Stars team, or they complete that game-changing play.
Oh, the unexplainable, testosterone-laden camaraderie of a cup check…
*Ahem*… let’s move on.
I have three boys on the rosters this year. In a typical week, each child will have two practices and two or three games – and yes, I am the mom that is at every one of them. Add in youth groups, church, and tap lessons for The Sassy One and the next two months are set to be a whirlwind!
So, I pull up my boot straps and HANG ON FOR THE RIDE, because they will be grown up before I know it and I will wish with all my heart that I was sitting down here at the ball field again, cheering on these boys that – win or lose – I am so proud of!
This craziness will be over before I know it. That is, until football season… ;o)
P.S. Yes, I am writing this from the ball field. Sitting here makes me want to tell you a funny thing about baseball in my town. We can always tell who the new baseball families are because they park on the right-field base line for easy, wind-and-rain-free viewing of the game from the warmth of their cars.
People, if you value the upper portion of your car DO NOT park on the right-field baseline! That is, unless you are one of the parents who would consider a baseball-sized crater in your hood as a badge of honor. And if you are one of those parents, you pretty much ROCK in my book!