Friday, April 4, 2014

Play Ball!

6:20am. The alarm goes off. I stagger awake, make some coffee. Boil eggs and cut grapefruit. At 6:40, I start waking kids up with my fake cheerful morning voice ("Game day!!! Everybody up!!"). From 6:45-7:30, I ask the following questions, approximately a gazillion times: "Have you brushed your teeth? Your hair? Do you have your baseball glove? Hat? Shoes? Water bottle? How about your glove? Did you brush your teeth? Where's your glove? Does everybody have their glove???"

I ask so many times whether everybody has a baseball glove that the kids look at me like I'm an idiot. Asked and answered: please move on.

It's 7:42 already, and we're late. I rush for door, asking one last time "Do you have your glove? Your hat? Your water?"

8:02. We arrive at the baseball field, where Kyra speaks up from the the back of the car.


"Yes, Kyra?"

"I forgot my glove."

I turn around and look at her, dumbfounded. "Do you have your hat?"

(Shakes head no.)

"Do you have your water bottle?"

"I wasn't thirsty."

Sigh. Just - sigh.

Mean mother that I am, I refuse to take her home to get her glove. I lecture her as we walk to the field, the entire way, about responsibility and teamwork and do you know how annoyed I am right now? I lecture her in my mom voice, loud enough to attract sympathetic stares from nearby parents, all of them hollow-eyed and lacking sufficient caffeine this early in the morning. I lecture her all the way to the entrance, whereupon Aidan sets his ginormous baseball bag on the ground, the baseball bag that is big enough to hold one hundred gloves stacked end to end, turns to me and says "Mom, I don't have my glove either."

And that is today's baseball summary.

What? You were hoping to hear about their games?

Okay, fine. Aidan borrowed his brother's glove for his 8am game. He got a hit! The other team caught it, sure, and he was out, but you're missing the point, which is: he got a hit! Kyra's game started at 10am, and she must have found a glove somewhere because I saw one on her hand when she fielded a ball in the infield and tossed it neatly to the first baseman (baseboy? basegirl?), getting an out. Seamus' game started at 12 - because why would any of them play at the same time? What could I possibly have to do today other than sitting at the Dirt Pit? - and he did a great job too. His team absolutely slaughtered the other in the first game of the season. They called it in the fifth inning when the score hit 31-12. It was one of those games that nobody wants to watch, no matter which side you're on, because it's just plain painful.

But then finally it was 3pm and time to head home.

Can't wait to do it all over again next Friday!


Kim said... [Reply]

Aloha! i found your blog while researching the FS. I've read several posts and really enjoy your insight into raising a family in the FS. You mention staying at posts for 3 or 4 years. Are you in the FAS perhaps?

I love this script of your saturday mornings. we go through a similar routine with saturday morning choir practice! sigh.

my email is
if you have the time (what free time?!) I have a couple other questions i'd love to ask you.
thank you! Kim

Nomads By Nature said... [Reply]

Laughing while I feel your pain - I say the exact same litany of reminders to mine (soccer gear instead of baseball, though)

Donna said... [Reply]

Thanks Kim. You can find me at gormands2. Also a gmail address. Happy to help if I can.

Please. Write your own stuff.