I hated baseball, until I didn't

I have never been shy to admit that I am not sporty. I didn't play any competitive sports as a kid, and was afraid--ok, I am STILL-- afraid of balls flying at me.

Naturally, opposites attract and all- I married a man who was very sporty. And gave birth to two boys who want to be just like Dad. Sporty.

I was pretty fortunate to avoid going to every single baseball game over the past nine years because Brian was Luke's coach. My attendance was not mandatory; I could breeze in and fly out when I got bored. Which shouldn't surprise you didn't take long. Even when we had winning seasons, I didn't attend many full games. I just didn't care to watch baseball.

I knew I had it good, didn't have to subject myself to the elements- I was quite the fair weather baseball parent.

Until this year. Brian changed jobs and could no longer coach Luke's team. He also couldn't make it to all of Luke and Noah's games.Noah was playing rookie ball, and Luke was on a 12U team. Brian became the fair weather ball parent. I became the parent who sits on the sidelines covered in dust, hoodies and a blanket in early spring, and dust. sweat and sunblock in the summer.

Noah and his Bumble Bees.

Luke and Brian...first year without Dad as his coach, but Dad had the gear!

I whined about every single game I had to attend.  I cheered my sons, but texted complainey messages to my friends between action. I whined about the weather. I complained about the bleachers. I carried on about how amazingly bored I was.

Finally, after almost five months of baseball (times two teams...that's a lot of texting) Noah finished his season and Luke was headed to the season ending tournament. My obligation to baseball was ending for the year.

No more sideline bug bites.

No more wind/sun/anger at annoying parents burn.

No more of  the toddler in the stroller at every game with the Justin Beiber doll. That sang! Over and over and over....she obviously loved that doll. I wanted the boys to use it for batting practice.

The tournament was at a town a full half hour away. This, of course, was fodder for more complaining. And our team, normally nine boys, was going to be short. Seven boys playing full teams that, for the most part, had beat us during the season.

"How are they going to play with only seven kids?" my friend asked me when I moaned about it.

Good question.

The answer?

In the first game they beat the other full team 15-3.

This win was especially satisfying because the opposing coach decided to pull out the rule book in the last inning and question if our boys should be penalized runs for not having a full team.

My feeling was that HIS team should be penalized runs for having such a poor sport for a coach. Thankfully, the rule had been changed this year and our team whupped his.(Ok, that was poor sportsmanship, too...I'll own that.)

The second game our team of  seven - including one kid with a broken arm in a cast- was victorious over a team of nine (who came to the field sporting some kinda freaky militaristic chanting...I was almost waiting for them to start high stepping around the bases). Final score 11-1.

The third game was a nail biter. Only six of our boys could make the game. Broken Arm Kid was one of the six, and the temperature was soaring into the 100's. Of course, the other team was a full team of nine. Going into the last half of the last inning, our team was down by two runs.  I found myself not cheering the end of the game as I normally would--but cheering the six 12 year-old boys taking their last turn at bat.

So how did that work out for our boys?

Don't you want to know about the family of the broken arm kid? The WHOLE family came to every game. Mom, Dad, two girls and a set of grandparents cheered from the sidelines even when Broken Arm Kid couldn't play because his arm was so badly broken he had to get a new cast every other day.

Don't you want to know about the cute, cheerleader 13 year-old who was our teams scorekeeper and would go to the dugout and offer a pep talk to the boys?

Don't you want to know about the great conversations Luke and I had during our hour in the car when he didn't have to be cool, and could just chat with his mom?

OK. Our team of six boys with 11 working arms..................... won! 11-9!

I couldn't explain the win to Brian. The fielding was pretty bad, giganto holes in the outfield. Every time Broken Arm Kid got to bat, he could only stand at the ready and not swing, hoping for a walk. Our best pitcher was on vacation. The pitcher and catcher were overworked and very tired. It was freaky, scary, Why Are We Playing hot.

But we did.

The outcome of the tournament has yet to be determined, but the remarkable first three games created a feeling of winning pride for everyone involved in the team. Including this non-sporty, no longer baseball hating Mom.

I was expecting more from you....

This is the line that I imagine people who read this blog say. You are expecting more. More entries. More pictures. More chuckles.

Line forms here, baby!

I was expecting more from me, too. But, I did say that my posts would be sporadic and only when I had something I wanted to say without a filter.

*****Shameless plugs for the places where you can read more from me on a regular basis*****

(You do realize you can read posts on both Mom2MomKC (I am the Saturday Featured Blogger- go to the blogs tab and look for the picture that looks like me if I had smoothed out my wild hair and put on makeup) and  The Kansas City Star (new posts on Wednesday). Also, you can be a part of the excitement of historically based girl talk by subscribing to The History Chicks on itunes or going to our website. And - heavy sigh- I'm on twitter @essephvee . Or however you write the twitter name. I may very well be the worst tweeter in the world. Seriously. It's comical how awful I am...I mean, comical if it weren't so pathetic.)

**************Plug over*****************

But here is my reason for this post. What's going on with me is fairly boring--this summer has been filled with surgeries and illness and middle class financial responsibilities--- hasn't been filled with much fun and laughter. Right now, for instance, Noah and I are home on a Sunday morning because both of us have strep. We are not contagious, but he has the rash still-- as well as one from a drug allergy to the first med he was on. And I have that side effect from strong antibiotics that kill the good bacteria in my belly. Lovely. Yeah, that's the story of my summer. 

Who wants to read about that? Oh sure, it's funny that I forgot that the last time he was on this med (about a month ago) the doc thought he might be allergic and I totally spaced when we went to urgent care this time--- and was shocked to see a rash the next day, so I paid another co-pay to take him to his regular doc who had it right there in his chart." May be allergic to..."  Bonehead Mom Award. yay.

And the thrill my kids got when I FINALLY joined the 20-tweens and signed us up for Netflix was embarrassingly entertaining. Really, when the highlight of a summer is getting every episode of Billy the Exterminator, H2O or 1000 Ways to Die streamed to the wii---well, it's a pretty dry summer, ya know? That just gives a glimmer as to what is going on with me.

But what is going on with YOU? Is my boring rubbing off in my posts? Am I not controversial enough? Fine- I am not. Ok, that's a given...but I just told you I let my kids watch 1000 Ways to Die! It's a horrible show! I let my kids eat sugary cereals and have days when we have s'more eating contests, too! And let them ride scooters without helmets on! And..and...they watch way too much TV. On NICE days! Yeah, ok, I'm not controversial.

But am I boring?

I see you, you know. Ok, not YOU--I don't see you, I don't know who you are or anything...but I can see how many people come here and- not to brag- it's way more than just the followers list. Yeah, I'm no dooce (everyone bow), or Pioneer Woman...no one is going to be asking me to write a book based on this blog. But I do ok for the purpose here.

But the comment section is kinda light.

Here is the thing: blogggers like me, here, we get paid in hits and comments. It's like the dollars and cents of our work. It's how we know we are being heard and entertaining or enlightening or making you feel like a better person than us which is totally ok, too.

Maybe we are using our blogs as a place to vomit out our thoughts into the great wide beyond. (Guilty) 

Maybe we are hoping to polish our craft to someday make some real coin.( Guilty)

 Maybe we are hoping to just find out if there are any Meeee Toooooos out there and give voice to the common mistakes and lessons we all face so we don't feel like the crappiest mom on the planet (Totally and completely guilty).

But we like some response.

And I am totally lacking in response. And it's beginning to eat away at my already fragile ego. *whimper*

I'm going to throw some random pictures of things of this summer out there now, because we all like pictures, right? Plus it might give you something to comment on. ( Most pathetic hint ever..and you thought the pimp up there was bad!).

Luke's idea of a white button down shirt and tie: three button golf shirt and clip on tie. For a choir concert. He was so proud of this that he took his own picture--with my camera. I guess that meant he wanted everyone to see him. (And a glimpse of my messy kitchen/ Does ANYONE know how to close cabinet doors!?)

Noah not only has entirely too many shoes for a 6 year old boy, but his organizational powers both thrill and concern me.

My area of geekspertise is gardening. And these are my gardening shoes. Nasty, huh? God, I love slipping my feet into those shoes.

This tree is struggling to survive because my genius husband decided the best way to avoid weed whacking was to outline my yard and around the trees...with Round-up.

Bekah will be going to high school. This is the night of her middle school graduation. She is having some issues, the least of which is that her mom makes her pose in public places by goofy signs.

Hope that your summer is going well, and better than mine--comment and tell me how pathetic my summer and comment plea is!!!

hearts.