Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Rick and I had the good fortune of coaching Noah's Baseball Team last spring. At the end of the Season, each member of the team was given a Team Photo, a Trophey, a Certificate and Tickets to a Bees Baseball Game (Team's Sponsers.)The Tickets were placed upon the fridge to serve as a constant reminder, that fun was awaiting.

The Summer Nights flew by in a flash. The Bees Baseball Season was winding down. One late afternoon, Rick came home and announced "Come on Family, we are going to a Bees Baseball Game." Noah had been feeling a bit sick, but it is funny how one can feign wellness when the activity at hand is appealing..."It's time for school," is met with "Oh I am still feeling sick and my head hurts when I sit up." "Let's go to a Baseball Game," is met with "Can I buy one of those foam fingers?"

We proceeded to the Stadium and it was an absolutely perfect night for Baseball. It was warm, but not hot and there was a slight breeze. Noah exchanged the coupons for seats in the stadium. We sat in Section 104. Naturally, Baseball and Hot Dogs are the American Way and so our first stop was to the concession stand. "We'll take two hot dogs, a bucket of popcorn, a large diet coke and a giant pretzel."

Before Noah had finished his hot dog, he spotted the man carrying pink and blue cotton candy. Immediately, he knew he had to have one. "Dad, I want some cotton candy...." "You haven't even finished your hot dog yet."Noah kept eating, all the while keeping his eye on the cotton candy man. Soon, the cotton candy man had left our section and Noah was really put out by it. He grabbed the binoculars and searched the stands. Finally, he spotted the cotton candy man and pleaded that we leave our seats to go after him.

Thinking we could postpone his craving, we did everything we could to distract them. We kept telling Noah that he would return to our section and then he could have some. That did not keep him from asking over and over "Can you still see the cotton candy man? Where did he go? When will he be coming back? Do you think he is almost here?" Now I was beginning to get anxious. The moment I saw cotton candy come up the stairs I said, "We will take one right here." The man held up his hand and said, "Five dollars please." Rick and I, in synchronized gasps, paid the man and sent him on his way to another foolish customer. Five Dollars seemed a little pricey for hot spun sugar. Nonetheless, we had told Noah that he could have some when the man returned.

Finally, life would be good again. Noah had what he wanted and now all of us could watch the game. Noah had all of about four bites, turned to me and said, "I am all done. After all that...and he was done. If I were a mean mother, I would have made him eat every single last little fluff of stickiness, but I am not a mean mother. I had to convince myself that I am a nice mommy and so I ate the whole darn thing by myself and I had the tummy ache to prove it.

Then out of no where--okay--from a child behind Noah, came the splish splash of a coke down Noah's back. I kept my eye turned elsewhere. I really liked the shirt he was wearing and I was worried it would stain--"Be a nice mommy...Be a nice mommy" kept coursing through my brain..."Oh that is okay...he'll be fine..." The parents must have felt bad. Later, the Father of the little girl handed Noah a sack. Inside was a black Bees t-shirt. I thought that was awfully nice of them and felt the sting of guilt for my thoughts earlier.

The Stadium Lights came on as the sun went down. It was a spectacular evening and for a moment, the stresses of our unemployment situation were far from our minds. We were having a forever family kind of moment. It was time to soak it all up...I looked at the bright green field, felt the excitement of the crowd, observed America's favored pastime, viewed the Wasatch Mountains in the background and then the biggest, the brightest, the most beautiful harvest moon came up from behind the
silhouette of Utah's famous Mountains...and if that wasn't enough, the announcer said, "Folks, it's time for the 7th inning stretch." As a crowd we sang the traditional "Take Me Out to the Ball Game..." this is a phrase and a family activity worth repeating...take me out to the ball game.

What I learned from Noah: Cotton Candy IS NOT worth the wait.

What I learned from Baseball: It is still Americas Favored Pastime.

What I learned from me: I'll eat five dollars rather than EAT five dollars.

Strike Three (and I'm not talking about bowling)

I hope I can still remember how to post--it has been that long. There are so many wonderful distractions that I have discovered on the computer with "Smilebox" and "Shutterfly."I have a gabillion (less than a gazillion, I think) ideas and new events that I wish to address on top of magnifyng my callings and perfecting my domestic skills.

The other day the phone rang. I didn't recognize the number. It was the Marv Jensen Fitness Center calling regarding Noah's baseball team. His team was minus a coach and they asked if either my husband or myself would be interested. I discussed the matter with Rick and he said he would be willing to do it if I would help. I told them that my husband would gladly do it. When I picked up the Rosters it said that I was the Coach and Rick was my Assistant. "I AM NOT THE COACH!"

So, the first team meeting was just a clinic and doggone the Coach, if he wasn't going to be gone. Rick was going to St. George and leaving me to run things. This was not what I signed up to do--RUN THINGS. Thank goodness for BITTER cold weather. All I had to do was hand out the team shirts and caps, get them enthused about our first game on Tuesday, and give them a refreshment. Naturally, I want things to run smoothly and so I made a refreshment sign up sheet and then reminder magnets for the refrigerator. The moms of players thought "You are so organized" and the dads are like, "as if I needed a magnet to remind me and even if I did need a reminder, I wouldn't use a magnet." (Venus verses Mars thing again and that is why I need Rick to be at all the games--TO RELATE TO ALL THE DADS!)

Rick went South. I was trying to muster up the confidence to step in for Coach Rick. I could tell Noah was thrilled. I asked him if he was excited that his dad and mom were going to coach his baseball team.   He corrected me quickly, "Mom you are not the Coach, you are the ASSISTANT Coach."Strike One-- Boy was I ever put in my place.

Later during the day, I overheard him talking to Grandma about baseball, "Yeah and my dad is going to be my coach and my mom is going to be the 'INSISTANT'coach."That was Strike Two and even though it is probably true, it didn't sound too great. The next conversation was with Grandpa and by now we were loading the car. Again in a very excited voice Noah said, "I'm going to play baseball and my dad is going to coach me and my mom is going to be the 'INSENSITIVE' coach"--ouch and Strike Three.

What I learned from Noah:  No matter where Rick may be, Dad will always be the "top dog" and the leader of our home, while Mom will always be just the Assistant:) and I'll take "Assistant" over "insistant" and "insensitive" any day.