Today was the first official night of the baseball season. The fields are finally open and it was a gloriously beautiful spring day. Unfortunately it sounds like Mother Nature is going to kick us right in the seeds later in the week and won’t stop until we’re writhing on the ground in pain begging for mercy. This year I have four kids playing on four different teams, and my husband is the assistant coach for Cameron’s team. It’s complicated, to put it mildly. I really don’t remember much of the evening. It felt a little like an out of body experience.
5:00 – Justin and Alex are eating pizza rolls. Cameron can’t find his water bottle. David is wigging out because one of his idiot friends (I like David’s friends. They are good kids, but as a whole, 7th graders aren’t always the most judicious of creatures.) “text bombed” him, incapacitating his phone because no other texts can go through until each one of the hundreds of texts his friend sent at 7:30 this morning comes through, and they’d been trickling in all day. David’s pulled this joke on others before so he’s getting a taste of his own medicine, though he was quick to point out he hadn’t done it for a year, only did it to “maybe” two people, and only sent 20 texts.
5:15 – David leaves for his practice with his friend, whose mom, Julie, is kind enough to agree to go out of her way and drop David off at Alex’s 6:00 practice so Alex isn’t alone while I run Justin over to his 7:00 practice. But then as Barry and Cameron leave for 5:30 practice, Barry tells me to drop Justin off with him because his 7:00 practice is at an adjacent field, then go to Alex’s practice. So I text Julie that never mind, we’re all good. Now I need to get Justin and Alex dressed, which cannot happen without: Sock drama. Athletic supporter drama. Hat drama. Shoe drama. Shoelace drama. Bag drama.
5:45 – I can’t deal with dog drama too, so we leave a very sad doggie looking at us longingly from the stairs. Guilt-ridden because it’s so nice out, I promise her a treat if she’s a good girl. At a red light I peek at an email to see what number field I need to take Justin to. Well, crap. Turns out his practice is not at the same place as Cameron’s. I should know never to trust my husband. Alex is giving himself a pre-practice pep talk. “Don’t fart. Don’t fart. Don’t fart.”
6:00 – Arrived at Alex’s practice. I forgot my damn chair. Text Julie back and tell her to never mind the previous never mind, drop off request is back on. Talk to my friend, Amber, who probably thinks I’m a complete fruit bat because I’m trying to mentally talk myself through all of this schedule shit while sitting there with her. Pinged with an email. Justin’s coach. Oops, he got the field wrong, it actually IS at the same location as Cameron. He’s sorry for the inconvenience. Sorry doesn’t help me much now that I’m sitting there with Justin, have to debate whether to run him back over now or just wait. I decide to wait because Julie will think I’m certifiable if I send another change of plans text. I guess I should have trusted my husband.
6:05 – This coach is a nice guy, but he needs to run a tighter practice and shut down the kid who keeps interrupting, and is obsessed with relaying everything that is said to his sisters. Hold all questions until the end, junior.
6:20 – Interestingly enough, Alex actually spends his time at practice playing baseball instead of talking to girls and playing in the sand. That’s new for him.
6:40 – Justin and I are off. We pass Julie on the way. Things are working out ok. At the next site the parking lot is packed so I park in the fire lane to walk Justin over to find his coach. Yeah, that’s right, asshole in the Explorer, I’m parking here. Wanna make something of it? You’ve got plenty of room to get around so don’t give me your look, I’m on the clock here.
6:50 – Where the hell is Justin’s team? Is it just me, or are half of the suburban dads pretty much an extension of college frat boys? We never really leave high school, do we?
6:55 – Driving back. Phone call. David. Alex is done, where ARE you? Also my phone still doesn’t work. Um, you’re talking to me on it right now, aren’t you? Yeah, but I can’t TEXT.
7:00 – Pick up David and Alex. Drive a few blocks. Drive back a few blocks to retrieve Alex’s batting helmet, glove, hat, and water bottle. David wants to know why God hates him because he’s been praying for his phone to go back to normal, but it hasn’t yet. I suggest that perhaps God is trying to teach him patience.
7:10 – Drop David off at home, wearing the title of worst mother ever because I won’t stay to make him food.
7:30 – Relieve Barry from Justin’s practice so he can go home and feed himself and Cameron. Hang out with Alex watching batting practice. Solid 25 minutes of relaxation.
7:55 – In search of a bathroom.
8:30 – Practice over. All good. Insane, but we survived. Just glad we didn’t have to do it in snow.
8:45 – WARNING. WARNING. WARNING. Justin is about to lose it because he wanted me to make Thai peanut noodles for dinner, which I’m not going to do at quarter to nine. I talk him into settling for a frozen chicken fettuccine Lean Cuisine.
8:50 – Alex wanders into the kitchen. What do I smell? Oh fuck. There’s only one Lean Cuisine. I know where this is heading. He wants one too. I decide to do what is fair, and split it between both of them.
8:55 – DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! Full scale meltdown when Justin realizes he’s not getting the entire contents of the Lean Cuisine. Shut the windows, we don’t need the neighbors to hear this. Alex crying now because he wants pizza too, Justin howling, dog trying to steal food while everyone else is yelling and screaming. David whining some more about his phone.
9:30 – A peace settlement is reached at last. Begin bedtime preparation. Argue over who gets to sleep with the dog. Barry comes upstairs after mopping up the laundry room floor because a sock got stuck in the sink drain, causing the water to back up.
10:00 – Lights out. I cannot do this every night. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2013