The things we do for love...

There is nothing I despise more than spending my Saturday morning at the little league field – really nothing tops the discomfort I feel. 

My people skills and personality have helped me get far in life and I’ve successfully conquered closed societies like the High School Cheerleading Squad, a Southern Sorority (new member of the year and President), secret societies (sorry, you won’t get the name out of me), the local HOA, and even the PTA.  But for some unknown reason the cliques of the Little League leave me shivering with uneasiness.   I am not sure who scares me more; the clusters of happy moms sipping their Evian and pushing their strollers, or the groups of Dads scouting the players and predicting who the ringers will be, or the groups of grandparents in their pop up chairs trying to hold on to the toddlers who are too young to play, but are dressed like their older siblings anyway.  Either way, each group is an unwelcome challenge that leaves me dreading Saturday a.m.

…this leads me to my little man. 

 I honestly have never said no to my son (ok, yes I say NO to things like No new pets, No you can’t eat that, No you cannot jump off the roof).   However if the request is reasonable and no one is going to be harmed, than I generally go along with it for the happiness of my little man.  I’ve taken him on trips, we’ve tried new adventures, I’ve enrolled him in every sport you can imagine and I’ve happily been the snack mom.  I’ve gone as far as coach the cheerleaders for his flag football team, because no other mom would and I had a few pom poms and spirit dust in my closet.  But, I draw the line at Little League. 

I’ve pawned off the practices and games to everyone I can think of. I’ve corralled my parents into helping, let my ex husband have him extra days, scheduled Drs. Appointments, anything I can think of to NOT have to go the dreaded little league field. 

So imagine my dilemma when my little man comes home from baseball practice asking me to be the dugout mom.  WHAT?!?! How did the devil get a hold of my little man and play games with my baby?!  There is NO WAY I can be the dugout mom. 

I tried to stall.  “Mom, the coach really needs you now”. 

I tried to deflect.  “Don’t you like Karate more than baseball?”

I tried to play dumb.  “I don’t know anything about baseball.”

Then he hit me with the knockout punch.  “Mom you would get to spend time with me and be the coolest mom on the team.”

Ouch!

He got me.  He hit me where it hurts. 

Of course I’ll be the dugout mom.  Of course I’ll label all your bags, memorize the line-up, figure out  which kids have peanut allergies and make sure you all get bathroom breaks.  Of course I’ll bring coffee, have band aids and smile while all of the dads yell at me about the line up and the moms question me about this week’s snack.

At least I won’t have to deal with the Evian sipping moms or the grandparents in their pop up chairs.

Go Cubs!