It was opening day for the Youngblood boys this past weekend. The day they look forward to all year, the day outdoor baseball begins.
All three of them had games this weekend. There were 10 games in all. There were victories and defeats and lots of pitching and catching and diving plays and pickles and smiles and high fives and "you'll get it next time"s. The boys loved it.
Opening day is a time to celebrate for most of the family. While I am happy for my boys, I don't feel quite the same way. Opening day seems to shine a light on all my inadequacies and shortcomings as a mother/person.
I imagine going to 10 baseball games in one weekend with three different children and three different teams while trying to make sure your fourth child who isn''t so crazy about baseball doesn't feel ignored and your two dogs don't tear up the house wouldn't seem like a big deal to an organized, totally together, well-balanced mother. But I am none of those things. I am the running late, forget the forms, always behind on the laundry, wishing she could be at everyone's everything, over sensitive, defensive, but trying hard mother.
It's not just baseball...it's football season, basketball season, holidays and other hectic times of the year. When I had babies and toddlers I didn't really picture what it would all look like when they got involved with sports and extra curricular activities. I had no idea how busy it would all be.
There are some mother/people that thrive with schedules and family time management and I bow down to them. I am in awe of them and hope they remind me of practice times and color coordinate maps to the tournament for everyone on the team. I appreciate all the help I can get. One mother/friend on one of the teams gave me a calendar for Christmas to help me plan better and I thought it was so great (I have yet to use it for family planning however).
I laugh about it, but it bugs me. I mean what's wrong with me? Why can't I get my shit together? The more frazzled I get about all of it, the more I seem to screw things up. I was running late to the game yesterday morning and feeling guilty. And THEN I took a wrong turn to a place I've been going to for years, I dropped a new tablet and the screen shattered and I ran over a basketball. And then I cried. I worry that I'm getting worse as I get older and that I'm totally screwing up my kids.
Someone asked me how I did it all, how did I get everyone everywhere they needed to be and I laughed my head off. "Not well," I replied.
Last night after all the games had been played, we sat down to eat dinner together. Tim and I were almost falling asleep at the table, but the kids were still giddy and excited about the weekend. They were laughing and telling stories about their games. Lucy was chiming in with what she saw on the playgrounds and in the bleachers.
They laughed about me running over the basketball with my minivan and even how mad I got about the shattered screen until I embarrassingly realized I was the one that had shattered it. I was worried that they were going to be scarred by my ineptitude at organization or my scattered way-of-life, but that wasn't the story they told. At least not yet anyway.
All three of them had games this weekend. There were 10 games in all. There were victories and defeats and lots of pitching and catching and diving plays and pickles and smiles and high fives and "you'll get it next time"s. The boys loved it.
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| Wade is the official bat boy for JT's team and he loves it so much. |
Opening day is a time to celebrate for most of the family. While I am happy for my boys, I don't feel quite the same way. Opening day seems to shine a light on all my inadequacies and shortcomings as a mother/person.
I imagine going to 10 baseball games in one weekend with three different children and three different teams while trying to make sure your fourth child who isn''t so crazy about baseball doesn't feel ignored and your two dogs don't tear up the house wouldn't seem like a big deal to an organized, totally together, well-balanced mother. But I am none of those things. I am the running late, forget the forms, always behind on the laundry, wishing she could be at everyone's everything, over sensitive, defensive, but trying hard mother.
It's not just baseball...it's football season, basketball season, holidays and other hectic times of the year. When I had babies and toddlers I didn't really picture what it would all look like when they got involved with sports and extra curricular activities. I had no idea how busy it would all be.
There are some mother/people that thrive with schedules and family time management and I bow down to them. I am in awe of them and hope they remind me of practice times and color coordinate maps to the tournament for everyone on the team. I appreciate all the help I can get. One mother/friend on one of the teams gave me a calendar for Christmas to help me plan better and I thought it was so great (I have yet to use it for family planning however).
I laugh about it, but it bugs me. I mean what's wrong with me? Why can't I get my shit together? The more frazzled I get about all of it, the more I seem to screw things up. I was running late to the game yesterday morning and feeling guilty. And THEN I took a wrong turn to a place I've been going to for years, I dropped a new tablet and the screen shattered and I ran over a basketball. And then I cried. I worry that I'm getting worse as I get older and that I'm totally screwing up my kids.
Someone asked me how I did it all, how did I get everyone everywhere they needed to be and I laughed my head off. "Not well," I replied.
Last night after all the games had been played, we sat down to eat dinner together. Tim and I were almost falling asleep at the table, but the kids were still giddy and excited about the weekend. They were laughing and telling stories about their games. Lucy was chiming in with what she saw on the playgrounds and in the bleachers.
They laughed about me running over the basketball with my minivan and even how mad I got about the shattered screen until I embarrassingly realized I was the one that had shattered it. I was worried that they were going to be scarred by my ineptitude at organization or my scattered way-of-life, but that wasn't the story they told. At least not yet anyway.
 |
| JT's team won the tournament and they got trophies. Wade can't believe he got a trophy for being bat boy and he is haaaaaappppy. |
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