The Weekend Part 2: First Game

Oh man.  It's almost the weekend and I'm just getting to this post about last weekend.

I think this is going to be a pattern I'll have to accept.

Even though it bugs me.

Even though I want my time to do what I want.

I've been wrestling with that.

Do you know how lucky you are if you have time for a hobby? (hello blogging)

Or to sit down and watch your favorite shows?  (hello Ron Swanson!)

Or to read your favorite magazine? (hello Sunset! & Bon Appetite!)

Or go to the gym? (hello....oh yeah, I don't go to the gym)

Do you ever stop to think that there are millions of people who will never have any time for those luxuries.

They are struggling to feed their families and keep a roof, of some sort, over their heads.

Free time is something a lot of people don't have.

And I don't mean us.

We're busy, yes.

But we still have time to read blogs, check facebook, read the newspaper, stop for coffee, go out to dinner, run on the treadmill, and a host of other luxurious treats that we almost always take for granted.

And yet we still have the nerve to complain that we're busy and stressed and we have no time for ourselves.

I know this is true because I do it.

I just did it today.

I've been having a bit of a pity party all week.

For one thing, I have something called a nipple bleb.

Basically I have a blister on my nipple.

Lovely.

And you know how tender a blister is?

And how tender a nipple is?

And then imagine your baby sucking on both of them as hard as he can.

And then you'll be able to imagine how much it hurts, so that I almost cry every time Davy nurses.

Seriously.

Remember how much it hurts when you first start nursing?

I like to say it's like the baby's gums are actually razor blades.

When they latch on, it just makes your toes curl with the pain of it. (sorry moms yet to be--but fear not! the pain doesn't last forever)

But then, once they're on, the pain subsides.

Not the case with the bleb.

It hurts that bad the whole time.

I am so over it.

4 babies and I've never had, nor heard of, nipple blebs.

And if I never hear of them again I will be a happy lady.

So the bleb has made me cranky.

I'm sitting around with a heating pad on my boob whenever I can.

I'm yelling at the kids to get away from me while I'm nursing because I don't want Davy to take any longer than necessary by being distracted by his brothers and sisters singing to him, dancing for him, or even talking to him.

Oh it's been a long week.

All this from one tiny blister.

Sheesh.

And then there's this whole baseball thing.

Having 2 kids in sports simultaneously is no joke.

Between the practices and the games, we're gone most afternoons and evenings.

I'm not good at this.

I like to be home from 4 on.

To make dinner, to get early baths done, and to get the baby and big kids down for a normal bedtime.

Instead, I'm taking kids to practice at 5, we're having frozen pizzas, dinner at 7, bedtime at 9, and it is wearing me out.

I know.

My kids have the luxury of playing a sport, having a hobby, and I'm complaining.

Then there's this little thing that Aaron and I can't agree on: how we'll do our garden this year.

Raised beds?  Straw bales?

Are we really disagreeing about this?

Perhaps I should let it go and just be grateful for a husband who wants to plant a garden for me, instead of trying to control everything.

I am not good at that.

But I'm going to try.

Perhaps the biggest culprit in my bad attitude is fatigue.

Davy has had a string of bad nights.

He got sick again.

More coughing, wheezing and ear pulling.

Lots of wake ups.

Often times Aaron can take him in the night and he settles down with Daddy.

It gives me a bit more sleep.

But the last few nights only Mommy would do.

It's wearing me out.

But still.

I really have no cause to complain.

All I have to do is step back from my own life and get a fresh perspective.

Sometimes I think I need a little shaking up to remind myself how fortunate I am.

Sometimes I need a view bigger than my own little world.

So I don't have gobs of time to do whatever I want?

Do I ever stop to realize that I have a refrigerator in my house.

And it has food in it.

Or that I have a house.

With a refrigerator full of food in it.

In the words of my friend, Nacho, my life is good.

And now, back to last weekend.

.......................................................................................................

After I went to the fabulous garage sale on Saturday morning, it was time to head to the ball field and play some baseball.

I still can't believe we have 2 little guys playing baseball.

William, the boy who not so long ago said, "I'm never playing baseball because I don't like everyone looking at me!" walked up to the plate like he'd been doing it his whole life.

His first at bat he ended up using the tee.
But he got a base hit.
And the next 2 times he hit the coach's pitches.

And boy did he love running those bases.
He even slid into home.
And walked it off, because it hurt just a little bit.

He played infield and outfield.
Sometimes he looked like this: ready and waiting for a play at short stop.

But a lot of times he looked like this.
He is a bit of a daydreamer out there on the field.

All in all, he had fun.
He didn't get mad and run off the field crying.
He didn't complain he was bored, tired or that people were looking at him.
Wow.
William is growing up!

After high fiving the other team, the best part of the day is snacks.
Base hit?
Who cares?  I got fruit snacks!

Right after William's game was James' games.
That's a lot of hours at the ball field for this little guy.
He wasn't feeling too good.
He hardly cracked a smile all day.

Thankfully my dad and sister came up to watch the games with us.
The extra hands were much appreciated.
And James liked having a bigger cheering section.


It's a whole new ball game for James this year.
I am kind so surprised by the whole thing.
Last year he had never picked up a ball of glove.
And most of the kids on his team hadn't either.
It showed.
But they did have fun.
He didn't make great strides in his skills, but considering where he started, he did make some strides.


But this year...
This year, the kids are pitching.
This year, it's competitive.
This year, it's not about trying all the positions.
This year, there are some kids who will never play outfield.
And some who always will.
It's tough.
James has been nervous.
But he got to play second base this game.

And that made him happy.
He has learned so much about the game.
He's really picking up on the strategy: stealing, pop flies, covering the base, and more.
It's fun to see him get it.
Down and ready.

He struck out twice this game.
So did a lot of other kids.
8 year olds don't pitch real straight, so it's pretty hard to get a hit.
It's heartbreaking to see them walk into the dugout, fighting back tears of disappointment.
But it's also good to see James learning how to accept a defeat with grace--not with anger.
And with a solid determination to do better next time.

Because the hard truth in life is that there will be more strike outs than base hits.

And if you can keep fighting instead of giving up, then you'll go farther.

This might be a hard season for James, but I have a feeling it's going to be a good one.

Not just now, but for years to come.

I only hope I can encourage him to have that bigger view.

The view I've been needing to have myself this week.

It's Friday--another baseball game lies ahead tomorrow.

We'll see what it brings.

Here's to another fun filled weekend!

Love from,

Greta