Baseball Mom

I have two teenage boys.  Very boy boys.  Like either God was preparing me to be their mother by giving me three younger brothers that were sport fanatics or gave me these kids because I grew up with three younger brothers who were sports fanatics.  Either way, it works because well, I love sports!

Anywho, both my boys have played baseball since they were 5 years old.  I have been watching these kids play ball for 13 years.  I haven’t even been employed at a single company for that long (close, but not there yet).  We’ve thrown football in there for a few years also, ya know just to keep it interesting I guess.

My oldest son completed his baseball “career” on May 26, 2017.  His high school team ended their season with a loss in the 4th round of the playoffs.  We were so close to going to State! UGH!  It was a bittersweet moment.  There were tears and a sigh of relief, because we were actually present at his high school graduation instead of playing baseball while the rest of the seniors graduated, and a moment of relaxation that came with the thought “no one has practice tomorrow”.

Cue the youngest son, who the Sunday after the oldest’s final game informed me that “he has practice on Tuesday”.  IS IT TIME FOR SUMMER LEAGUE ALREADY?????  Apparently so…..  I’m thinking I should get paid for this.  It’s like having a second job (on top of the full time paid job and the job of single mom).  We have literally been playing baseball since February.  If I count that out it’s really only 5 months out of the year – ok, not only, it’s almost half the year, no wonder I feel like I live there.  Half the year with two kids at the baseball field.

Then reality sets in, my oldest played his last game.  He’s graduated from high school, he’s moving out of state.  There is no more baseball practice, no more games, no more “Mom, I need a new (insert equipment here).  Mom, I need (insert monetary amount here) for (insert some fee here) times 2.   While my bank account is breathing a sigh of relief, my heart is breaking.  As much as I complain about being at the ball field 4 days a week during the season and countless consecutive hours during tournaments prior to the season, this is my second identity.

Who am I if I’m not running in 3 directions to get multiple kids where they need to be?  Who am I if I have time to go home before I go to the field to watch not only my boys, but all of their teammates who you love and root for as if you had birthed them yourself.

I haven’t had one kid playing baseball since my oldest was 7 and his brother was too young to play.  And let’s be honest, having a toddler at a ball park while trying to watch the other kid play is kind of like having two kids playing baseball on different fields at the same time.  This is going to take some getting used to.

Maybe I’ll have time to really get involved in a hobby I’ve always wanted to do, maybe I won’t be exhausted all the time, I’ll probably be lost for a little while; thinking I supposed to be doing something and not know what it is.  I suppose I’ll get used to it eventually.  After all it will give me time to ease into the notion that in three years I won’t have any kids playing baseball.  Yeah, we are going to ignore that thought for as long as possible. I’m not prepared to completely lose my identity as A Baseball Mom just yet.


To The Proud Parent Who Wasn’t There

My ex husband called me the other day, he wanted to tell me that he and his wife were coming to my son’s graduation, IF they could come up with the gas money.  He then proceeded to tell me how it “just killed him not to be able to see my son play baseball this year”.  Stop!  Just stop!  Stop talking.  You can’t spew your bullshit to me.  You didn’t even show up to games when you didn’t live 300 miles away.  I was there, I was married to you for 10 years.  I’m the one that picked up the pieces when you stopped paying child support and then moved out of state.  I’m the one that made sure kids got where they needed to be even when they were going in completely opposite directions at the same time.  When it meant that my day started at 5 am and didn’t end until 11 pm.  Through the cold and heat at football and baseball games, through the boredom at award ceremonies and band concerts, through the many, many miles driven to practice and games, to and from school, and friends houses and doctor’s appointments and ER visits. Through the exhaustion.  I did that.  Not you.  These are MY kids.

I have no problem with people being divorced.  I don’t even have a problem with divorced parents who don’t play the whole “we do everything together for the benefit of our child(ren)”  game.  (See my blog Co-Parenting for my feelings on this)  What I do have a problem with is absentee parents.   A more appropriate word would be despise.  I despise these people.  More precisely I despise absentee parents who boast about their kids accomplishments like they had something to do with it.   More than that, I despise the absentee parents who accept compliments on their parenting skills when they don’t have any skills.  (I may have a slight issue here – that’s a lot of hate going on LOL)

So to all you parents that only come out of the woodwork when your kid is excelling at something, STOP.  Just stop.  Be proud, but don’t you dare try to take credit for any of it. You keep that between you and the kid.  Tell them you are proud of them, but don’t you dare claim it.   Because for every person you can fool with your beaming smile and lies, there are five more who were down in the trenches with the parent that was there for all of those things.  Hell, they probably have more claim to that kid than you do.  They know the truth.   And one day down the road, when it matters, those kids will know the truth also.  They will know who was there supporting them.  They will know who made sacrifices.  And they will know who made excuses.