I love the summer. Not because of the sun, summer break from school, sleeping in, warm breezes or late night bonfires. Although these are all parts that make up this glorious season, they in no way compare to the smiles, slaps on the back, chatter of voices and the occasional tear of that of boys that love their sport.
I am the mom of baseball players.
I can always tell when it's a game day. The morning is marked with animated talk of pitching and catching, the batting line up, and field conditions. It seems the forecast is checked on the hour, making sure the meteorological patterns are perfect.
The day is spent "resting up, so you don't strain your arm." That includes everything from watching baseball on tv, to reading a book, to playing on the ipod.
When dad...or...coach, gets home from work is when the pregame activity begins. There is everything from playing catch to swinging the bat. Making sure that last minute adjustments to form are made.
Then the race is on to make sure all parts of each uniform are present and accounted for.
Then panic sets in.....
"Where's you glove?" "I'm sorry, I don't know where you other cleat is...I don't where them." "Your hat should be in the truck where you left it!!" "Come on boys, get dressed! We have seven minutes before we leave!" "Do you have your water bottles?"
Pouting, screaming and tantrum throwing ensues. Leaving at the last minute possible, then realize that the truck needs gas...ugh!!
We are on our way...finally! There is a calm that overtakes us in the cocoon of the vehicle. Talk of wins versus losses, if we have played this opponent before, and once again of the weather, hoping that the dark clouds ahead will move on quickly.
When we arrive at the field, the excitement is palpable for the game to begin. The boys are running to the outfield, dad...or...coach, is sizing up the competition and I, mom, take my seat amongst the spectators.
PLAY BALL!! Cries the umpire.
It is all worth it with the first crack of the bat, because, I am the mom of baseball players.
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