Baseball Mom

I'm still new at this baseball mom thing. It's similar to being a soccer mom, but it seems to be a bit more serious. I learned that at the first game. I noticed that all the boys on the team were wearing baseball pants, while my two were clad in old sweat pants and jeans. Actually, I didn't notice, until a mom approached me and said, "You know, my son has outgrown his baseball pants from last year and it looks like they might fit one of your boys." The next day, both boys sported their new bright white baseball pants. By the end of the next game, the pants were no longer white.

The other difference about baseball is that there are make-up games for those that were rained out. Considering the unfriendly spring we've had this year, it actually seems necessary. Normally it wouldn't be a big problem, that is, except when the games are on at the last minute on the evenings I work.

Baseball also has an active concession stand. Sounds nice, I mean, who doesn't want a cold slushy after a good ball game? Great for the kids, but for the parents? I'm still not sure how to respond to the e-mail I received asking when I can work at the concession stand. 'Excuse me, you want me to do what?'

Finally, I'm still scratching my head trying to figure out how to sell these baseball "calendars" (which really just serve as raffle tickets). With every kid in town signed up for baseball, how do you ask for support from neighbors? And then, which twin do I ask them to support? I certainly am not sending my eight-year-olds around door-to-door. Generally, the way I feel is, unless it involves the sale of quality chocolate, who would want to buy it anyway? That's why we're forking over the cash for the $50 worth of "calendars" we are required to sell.

I guess it's all worth it though. Baseball is an American tradition. There's something about seeing your half-grown, dirt-faced boy, with cherry slushy stains on his previously bright white pants, make that great catch or jump for joy as he slides into home plate. His big smile, half filled with baby teeth and half filled with permanent teeth, after he smashes the ball somewhere into center field, is one of those hallmarks of parental joy. Okay, so I'm still waiting to see that one, but I hear it's great!