Summer Baseball Blues

Summer is having me feel a little bit grumpy these days.  You see, when I think of summer, I think of sleeveless dresses, sangria, and lazy nights listening to the sounds of the neighborhood kids playing the games I grew up with, freeze tag, capture the flag and kick the can.... I think of chatting with my neighbors, who finally appear out of nowhere, once the weather warms and we all quit hibernating. 

Except. That isn't what my summer looks like. The air conditioning system in my office building is cranked up to "refrigerator" temperatures, rendering my summer dresses obsolete, and instead I find myself layering  sweater dresses with jean jackets.  And rather than those lazy nights where my children entertain themselves as I look on sipping sangria, we are so over scheduled with baseball practices and games one may think I am raising a brood of elite athletes, bound for the Olympics.  

Someone should have warned me that having three boys would result in a complete and total loss of summer nights. And man, do I like summer nights.  Now it's a frenzy every evening, rushing around: Where are your cleats? Do we have all 37 of our water bottles filled? Have you eaten this hastily prepared crock pot dinner? Do you even want to? Who's picking up kid A from practice before kid B's game clear on the other side of the city? Where is your uniform? Not that uniform, the other uniform.  

And baseball games aren't quick.  Oh hell no.  They go on, and on, and on.  And over half the time your own child isn't doing a damn thing.  He is sitting on the bench, or waiting hopelessly in the outfield for a ball that will never come. And when he finally does get up to bat, it's 1,2,3 strikes and he's out... and back on the bench.  Yet you must look engaged! Enthusiastic! Proud of your kid's teammates, even if you don't know their names, or particularly like them. You must make small talk in the bleachers and pretend your butt doesn't hurt from sitting on those metal seats of torture. You must be prepared with snacks for the offspring not playing, and forgo your much deserved glass of wine after your long day of work.  

And when the game FINALLY does end.... you rush home and try to convince your rug rats, overtired, and wound up from a day of non-stop summer action to go to sleep at 9:45 pm.  And then, well then you get your well earned 4 minutes of "me" time before you collapse into bed, so you can get up and do it all over again tomorrow.  

Seriously. I can't wait for the fall. 

Guess what's in the coffee mug? Mom deserves wine!