Drowning

 

 

 

Ever since I became a mom, I have been obsessed with having a routine.  At first it was because I needed it to keep me sane, but as the boys got older, I did it for them as much as me.  From the time they wake up to their milk and Mickey Mouse, to the time they go to bed with bath, teeth brushing and books.  They even know that we say a prayer for their school day at the second light before we get to the church.  Last week I tried to say the prayer at the third light before the school and they absolutely wouldn't say it until we got to the next light.  They know their routine backward, forward and upside down.  If anything is off, they let me know immediately.  I guess we have all become little creatures of habit.  Then came baseball.

No one was more excited than I was, for my little Colt Colt to play t-ball.  Well, I take that back, Colt was pretty darn excited.  After his first practice, he said, "Mom! I LOVE LOVE LOVE t-ball!!!!!!"  He was so happy.  With his little glove and bat, all dressed up in his long socks and baseball pants, he was ready.  Practices started, twice a week, then games started on the weekends.  Chloe was playing soccer as well, also twice a week, with games on Fridays and Saturdays.  Long gone were the days when Bryan would come home and take the kids on a bike ride for an hour while I cooked and then they came home to complete three course meal with a protein, starch and vegetable.  Then I would run while Bryan played with the boys outside and when I got back, it was bath, teeth and bed all done by 8:30.

Now, we were eating peanut butter sandwiches and corn dogs for dinner in the car as we're rushing from field to field.  I gained 10 pounds and two pant sizes.  Then, some genius threw in games for four year olds that took place at 7:15 on a week night.  Our little world was turning upside down and I didn't know how to handle it.  Bed times were getting so late, that in lieu of bathing them, I would wipe the dirt off of their legs with a wipe because they were falling asleep standing up.  I felt out of control for myself and my boys.  I was starting to get bitter.  I was seeking advice from moms with older kids, begging them to tell me how they did it.  I felt like I was washing washing washing uniform after uniform constantly, all the while trying to come up with excuses in my head that I can convince Sam that he isn't old enough to play a sport until he's ten.  The lack of organization in my life was overwhelming and I was completely on edge.

Last weekend, we had been going 100 mph as usual, then Sunday came.  We needed to go to church, go to the pumpkin patch to take our yearly picture and then we were going to a kids Halloween party with some friends...booked as usual.  Then, as we were sitting in the living room watching Mickey, the boys asked me to tie their blanket around my neck so I could be a super mom.  I did and then they asked Bryan to do the same.  They told us they would be right back and they ran upstairs and got their super hero capes.  We proceeded to spend the next hour chasing them around the house "saving" and "capturing" each other.  We were out of breath (remember the 10 pounds of corn dogs) running around like little kids having so much fun, doing absolutely nothing but playing together.  So, I made an executive decision to skip church, the pumpkin patch and our party.  We stayed home and rode bikes and had such a fun day.  Our day of nothing was an amazing day and I'll remember it forever. 

The week started and we jumped right back in our routine.  I was feeling a little better, still stressed, but I was coping.  Then, on Saturday, the thing Colt had been wishing for since his very first game a month ago, finally happened....his coach gave him the game ball.  He got the two best hits of the game, hitting in the outfield past second base and scored a run both times.  He was fist pumping, high-fiving everyone and smiling from ear to ear.  It was better than Christmas morning.  I realized then, that just like everything else in my life, I do what I do for my babies.  They have a routine because of me, them coping or not coping depends on me and my attitude.  Kids are resilient.  They will always be okay, as long as we are loving and supporting them every step of the way.  We are their home and we are their comfort.

I'm not kidding when I tell you the last month has been borderline misery and I know that I have another baby coming up into sports and as they all get older, it's just going to get worse.  However, I have a new outlook on all of this.  I'd do this next month and the month after and the month after, standing on my head with a mouth full of corn dogs to see that same big smile spread across my baby's face one more time.  This is life and although crazy, it's also crazy wonderful.  There was a time when I used to live for me and what brought me happiness, but now, it's all about my babies.  They are my happiness, my love, my joy.  I wanted boys and I got them.  Here's to another 15 years of baseball!