April 08, 2009

Confessions of a Bad Baseball Mom

I have a confession to make...

Yep, it's sad, but true.
I'm a baseball Mom.
And I'm NOT good at it.

This year, The Little-Foreman-in-Pink (5)
and Worker #4 (9) are playing baseball.

This makes me a ...
running between practices 6 days a week,
attending a combined 6-8 games a week,
Filling the Water Bottles,
Slathering the Sun screen,
Spritzing the Bug Spray,
sore palms from clapping,
cracking voice from cheering,
Baseball Mom.

Now, don't get me wrong... I said I am a Baseball Mom...
I never said I was a good one!

Opening Day and the first games of the season were last week-end.
I was all excited to watch my little ones play.
The 4-5 year old T-Ball game was first.

We got there in plenty of time.
The little girls were SO cute with their over-sized pink batting helmets and face guards.
I waited for my little redhead to make her way to the plate.
She took her stance, and prepared to swing the bat.

Something came over me.
I jumped out of my seat and started yelling...
"Go Clover!!!, Hit it hard!!, Bring 'em Home!! Whoo Hoo!!'
She swung the bat, hitting the T and NOT the ball.
"That's ok Clover! You'll get it next time!! Keep your eye on the ball baby!"

Then I I heard a little voice...
Why are you yelling to Brittany? I'm your girl. I'm over here!"
Oops! I sat down and shut up.

Then it was worker #4's game.
He is 9, 9 yr old games are intense man!

The other baseball moms are Hard Core!
They all have team shirts with their kids names and numbers embroidered on the back saying things like.. "Brandon's Mom" or "Jimmy's Mom".

They all have their matching folding chairs,
Full make up,
Orange slices to give to their player.
Not a hair is out of out of place.
They know their cheers.
They have their seats saved with special bleacher chair thingies.

I, however, am lucky I remembered to brush my teeth before I rushed out the door to get to the ball park on time!

It's gonna be a Looong season!


Mary@Holy Mackerel said...

I wouldn't want to be one of those "other" moms. They're trying too hard. You, OTOH, are perfect.

Laurie said...

Don't forget to get your toe nails painted.

You can bring a case of gatorade and hand out to the other players before the game.

You can roast hot dogs on a grill behind the ball park and hand to the players when they leave the field. (Yes, I've actually seen that one done.)

The list could go on and on about how to be a good baseball mom.

Don't become discouraged, I was a baseball mom for 12 years, and I could never say that I was a good one either!

Holly said...

Welllll.... I'm a rugby mom. You know the bumper sticker 'Be kind to animals, kiss a rugby player'? LOL. At least you have bleachers! We stand on the sidelines in rain, sleet, hail and even snow. Mud and/or water up to our ankles sometimes. Freezing winds. For 3 to 5 HOURS on game days (which is almost every Sunday September to April)! Yummy... NOT!
I've decided to stop cheering kids on as I always seem to yell the wrong name- including at my own kid!!! I'm consistently screaming the wrong thing when it comes to the action on the field. Not to mention missing nearly every one of my son's tries (goals)! I just yell the team name nowadays. Short, sweet and simple. As long as my son is playing a game he loves, I don't really give a flying flip what the elitist do, say or think.
Yep! Team moms/dads. Specialist jackets, flasks, caps, team weekend trips that cost a fortune, etc. And a suitably expensive car in the parking lot that would pay for my house. Sounds like they clone these darn people! Stepford Parents....