Friday, June 15, 2018

How I Became a Baseball Mom

When you become a mother, you learn a lot quickly. Whether you want to or not. Admittedly, some of these lessons are painful-- how to [always] put someone's needs above your own (nursing a baby when you desperately need to go to the bathroom, anyone?), spending an entire day at the airport entertaining toddlers, excruciating nap routines-- the list goes on. 

Fortunately, some of the best lessons we learn are good ones.

I recently learned something new about myself: I'm a Baseball Mom.

If you knew me before kids, this should shock you. I used to automatically yawn and grab a book when my husband put on a baseball game. Baseball looked like the most boring sport (besides golf) imaginable. The thought of actually playing it myself in some kind of adult softball league was laughable. The idea alone of the ball coming at me and hitting my square in the face-- not in a million years, thankyouverymuch!

But then something happened. Last spring, my husband enrolled my son in coach pitch. I didn't even know what that meant (if you are like me, it means the coach of the kid's team pitches to his team, and vice versa). My son was just turning 7 at the time, and while I could tell he had some interest, and I knew my husband had dreamed of this very moment, I dreaded sitting around all evening trying to entertain my daughter while watching a sport I didn't like. 

And yet...

I got to see things like this:

My husband pitches to my son. A beautiful moment. 

As the nights went on, and the warm Minnesota spring took over, I started to enjoy those long baseball nights sitting in a folding chair, watching these still-little boys play and sometimes goof around in their tiny baseball uniforms. My daughter, as it turns out, relishes nothing more than the innocent freedom she enjoys on the nearby playground area, making new friends. In fact, she begs to go to every single game.

My son just turned 8. He is in coach pitch again-- the last year before kid pitch-- and his team is getting better each game. It is truly an honor to watch these guys (some of whom are in kindergarten!) get their hard-earned hits and joyfully run the bases. I cheer just as loud for the kids who don't belong to me. And I actually mean it! I'm excited! 

My husband is coaching again, and I am so proud of him. It is a completely volunteer position which he devotes countless hours to each week. I love his whole coaching philosophy. Learning how to play baseball isn't easy-- it takes practice, attention, and you have to stick with it to get better. His whole goal at this age is to get the boys to like it enough that they want to sign up again next year. He could care less about who wins or loses these games-- he wants the kids to be a part of a team and have a fun learning experience. I've never seen him raise his voice (unless it's to put down a metal bat), and I think the kids feel this and have a much better time because of it.

My sons adorable teammates cheer him on after a hit. Nothing's better than watching the smile on your kid's amazed face when they hit that d*mn ball!

So even though the days are long and we are all more than tired by the time we make it to our beds that night, I enjoy every minute of watching these games. I've even watched happily through the pouring rain! So this month you'll find me-- the newest member of the Baseball Moms Club-- cheering louder at any baseball game than I ever could have predicted.

Motherhood continually changes us. Thankfully it's often for the better.

*This post was written in honor of FranticMamaHubby: Happy Father's Day! We love you!

~Julia @ Frantic Mama

Find more on Facebook.