Worst Baseball Mom Ever

I mean God gave us this amazingly talented kid. Seriously. He has skills when it comes to sketching and drawing. I draw stick figures fairly well. So while I may not have amazing artistic talent if you know me you know it’s not inconceivable that my child is artistic in some way. It was very obvious even from toddlerhood he was artistic.

So we’re moving along through his childhood and while parenting is never easy, parenting the artistic child part made sense to me.

We never pushed him to play sports. I always thought that should be up to him. He did go play golf with his daddy, and did several kids golf clinics & some tennis lessons. A few days in the summer or one night a week. Easy peasy.

But spend 5 nights a week at the ball park? No thanks. I’m a firm believer in not over scheduling a child and just letting them be…well…a child.

And then a funny thing happened. He hit junior high and decided he wanted to play more sports. More team sports.

So we started with golf in 7th grade. No problem. Drop him off at the course after school. Pick him up at dark. Play a couple of tournaments in the spring. Great coach we really like. I’m good with this.

Then the next year he decides he wants to play basketball too. Umm…well. Okay. It’s not too bad. It’s indoors. Coach who believes in being punctual with ending practice. There is a fair consistency to the schedule. My brain that needs advance notice so I can plan is good with this. Games are almost always on the same nights each week. I think I can handle this.

The next year he decides to run cross country. No problem. The coach was one of his math teachers and she has been one of his favorite teachers. Plus she’s a mom of boys. There are only 4 or 5 meets. Run your heart out kiddo. Run like the wind.

Then our second year of basketball under our belt. I’m not earning sports mom of the year but I’m not getting a big fat F in it either. I’d give myself a solid B.

And the kiddo is a decent athlete and basketball player. He keeps at it and improves every week.

But then, my friends, God decided he needed some comedic relief from this dismal world of ours. I’ve never been accused being funny. Trust me. But God is obviously finding great humor in what is about to happen.

The kiddo decides he wants to play baseball.

BASEBALL.

A game that not two years ago he said was the most boring game ever.

A game that is played outdoors.

A game whose high school season begins in February. Do you know how cold it can get in February? Yes I know. I live in the south, but we still get our fair share of cold winters down here. And have I mentioned how cold natured I am? I mean I get cold in the shade in the summer.

I was absolutely clueless what all he would need for baseball. Sure I knew a bat and a glove and cleats. (Now they call them spikes. Growing up my softball playing sister had cleats. She didn’t even know what spikes were so I didn’t feel too bad about not knowing that one.)

I had to ask another mom. Thankfully I like his cross county coach also and knew I could ask her.

Do you know how much paraphernalia you need for baseball? Practice pants and shirts and socks. Unless you want to wash clothes every night then sure they can practice in their game clothes!

Let’s not forget a helmet and a bag and a belt and batting gloves and compression shorts and some crazy padded thing to wear on the wrist.

I was in over my head people. Way way over my head. Like deep end of the pool exhausted after treading water for way too long. (Have I ever mentioned I’m not a good swimmer.) My sister’s child was supposed to play ball. Mine was supposed to be perfectly content painting and drawing and playing the piano and reading.

You know. Like me.

Yeah. That’s God up in heaven laughing at me. Go ahead. You can laugh too. It’s okay. I won’t get upset.

Turns out most practices never end at the time the parents are told. (The basketball coach spoiled me.) Every day’s practice schedule may be different and it may change at the very last moment. And have I mentioned they played in the rain? And the kid ended up with pneumonia? And do you know how hard it is to get red dirt stains out of those pants?

There is no consistent game schedule either. And turns out not all coach’s are good at planning or communicating.

The planner side of my personality struggled people. Almost went over the edge kind of struggle.

Jesus come quickly.

But some things you just do for your child no matter the inconvenience to your need for advance planning and respect of ending on time.

My awesome kiddo thrives in a group. Teenagers can be negative creatures, but in a team setting he becomes an encourager. He’s a team player never grasping for all the glory, but doing what’s best for the team not himself. There were times he was the first base coach during the games and I loved hearing him cheer on the players batting. Even though he had never played before and missed a couple of weeks of the season due to sickness and a family emergency, he still improved. I’m so proud of how he keeps trying and doesn’t give up.

The season is over now and he’s still picking up his glove and ball to play catch with his daddy and wanting to improve. I’m thankful for time to rest and a normal art lesson schedule for him again, but I know he will keep on with baseball, practicing and improving until the season begins again next year.