In late breaking sports news, Dyl Pickles has decided to dust off his glove just in time for the 2012 season! After watching him sit out the 2011 season because of reported football favoritism, his mother is said to be experiencing shock, awe, and utter excitement over his return to American’s favorite pass-time! She’s ready to root-root-root for her son’s team!
Okay, to be honest, I’m a wee bit nervous about baseball season this year. I have never attempted a schedule quite this hectic, but I think I can do it! I will have 5 boys playing Little League this year, while the princess will be taking Ballet and Blondie’s singing schedule always picks up momentum in the Spring. Meanwhile April is targeted as our month to complete the adoption process. There’s a lot to do, but to tell the truth, I love being busy. I love having something outdoors to go and do. My fear is that I will over schedule, forget to schedule, or make a mess of the schedule and end up looking like some Muppet from Fraggle Rock: Mrs. Frazzled! Wait, make that Mrs. Completely Frazzled!
Still, I’m ready to get out my calendar and get it going. I hear my sister loaded all her schedules into some kind of cloud… maybe I need to check into that! Yesterday I spent nearly an hour just lining out appointments. It seems everyone is in need of a visit to the eye doctor – dentist – pediatrician, and let’s not forget THERAPIST! (Yes, in order to function in a zoo, therapy is often required! LOL) I typically use my cell phone to remind me of all these things, but I’m thinking I would love something even better to manage my day to day chaos. Looks like ORGANIZATION is going to be the only thing keeping me sane this spring.
Spring…. I love spring! I love bluebonnets and baby ducks and flowers blooming and picnics by the lake when its not quite warm enough to swim yet and I love baseball. I’m not talking about the Major Leagues or the World Series or the guys who make millions to knock one over, I’m talking 4-year-olds picking flowers in left field and then doing the pee-pee-dance as they head into the dugout. I’m talking kids who are lined up saying good-game and they don’t really care who won because everyone’s getting a Popsicle for playing. I’m talking boys who say “Mom, if I jack it over the fence will you give me $5?” Of course I will!
There’s no shame in my game, I gave Tucker a dime for every ball he caught when he first learned to be catcher. I see absolutely nothing wrong with a little financial motivation from time to time, you know, just to keep it interesting! I’ve been scolded by other mothers for this time and time again, but hey, if by some crazy turn of events one of my boys landed themselves in the NFL, NBA, or MLB, don’t you think they would be seeking a few financial incentives for their good games? An on top of that, my pay outs are in the form of nickels and dimes, it’s not like I’m passing out twenties at the end of the game.
Its funny the things you encounter when your kids play sports. First, I have learned the golden rule the hard way. If you want your boys to play, they have to start when they are 4, and playing their hearts out will not be enough. No, they will need their dad to suck up to the coach. This is where my boys often fall short. My hubby restores cars- frame off restoration- but there’s a story for another day. Since he doesn’t work here in town, he’s never hired, fired, bid against, or created a job for any of these guys who all seem to work together in some round about way. And since these guys all work together, they coach together, so the kids who are lucky enough to have the dads who are the builders, ac guys, plumbers, contractors, well those kids get picked for the best teams and get the most play in the favorite positions. If you’re dad owns an AC company, you’re guaranteed first base… that’s just the way it is. Once you accept it, you can sit back and just enjoy the game.
When Dyl Pickles was little, I didn’t know you had to start at four, and apparently we missed an entire season of Fall T’Ball. Of course we quickly corrected and were in the dug-out by Spring, but by then, we were far, far behind according to some parents who eyed me suspiciously at the sign-ups. Poor little Pickles had to prove himself all season long, and I thought the moms in this town were never going to get over the fact that NO, I did not graduate with them, NOT ANY of them!
Yes, that’s right, I’m 100% outsider, and for many years, it was painfully obvious when it came time for things like baseball sign-ups but Dyl Pickles must’ve done something right in all his years of running around that diamond because the first year we stepped onto the field for T’Ball tryouts with his little brother, I heard a coach say “oh yeah, he’s a Prestridge, take him…”
That’s when I knew we’d made it. Of course I had to spend many hours selling nachos to make up for the fact that Daddy’s not big into coaching Little League. But I’m not complaining, my son built a go-kart when he was 4, and got an old truck running when he was 11, so even though Daddy doesn’t throw a lot of balls around, he gives my boys the kinds of lessons they will never forget- he just does it in his own way.
This will be my 9th season as a baseball Mom. It’s amazing how much we grow and learn along with our children. When Dyl was in T’Ball, I was that mom yelling “choke up on that bat!” or “run home, run run run!” Not just yelling, TOP OF MY LUNGS jumping up and down in the bleachers, at the edge of my seat all five innings ready to knock out the Mom who said her boy could beat my boy up! This was my major-leaguer, and I was going to be the mom who helped him do it all! I had a fit if he dug in the dirt or chased butterflies in the out field and I cheered like crazy whenever he slid into home. We took this baseball stuff very seriously in the beginning…
Then I realized,they were kids, and this was just a game. I offered Tucker a few pointers here and there, along with a few dimes, and it seemed to work wonders. Now, when Trenton digs in the dirt or does the pee-pee dance on 2nd base, instead of clutching my heart in near myocardial infarction, I can laugh. Better yet, I will snap a picture so I can remember to laugh about it again later! One year Blondie even played. No, she did not want to play softball. She was only in the 4th grade and she wanted to play baseball, with the boys. I’d love to tell you she was out to prove herself as an athlete, or shatter the glass ceiling that holds girls back, but the truth is, she thought those baseball pants really made the boys look cuter from the backside. Yes folks, she’s been boy crazy from the start… Now days she limits her time on the field to singing the National Anthem on Opening Day!
This will be the first time the twins will be playing! They are excited beyond belief. It has me feeling a little bit like a walking visa commercial (only I had to pay cash). T’Ball gloves: $14. Baseball gloves: $48. New cleets for 5 boys: $I don’t wanna know yet! Batteries for the camera: $9. Popscicles, peanuts, and Cracker Jacks and Gatorade: $Too much to admit to by the time the season is over. Two months of watching them laugh, play, win, lose, and tie: PRICELESS!