I have a confession to make …. I’m faking it.
I want to be a good mommy. I want to be involved with my son Jake’s life and experience those moments that he’ll always remember (or at least remember for a few days). I really do but this baseball stuff. It’s just bores the freaking crap out of me.
There I said it. I’ve been struggling with this feeling for years since he joined his first baseball team at the ripe old age of 5. I learned early on to bring something to do while I waited for him to come up to bat or to make contact with the ball when his team was on the field. Every season I pick a new book to read and by the time they’re in the final tournament, I’ve finished the book and I’m finding a place for it in my crowded bookcase.
As Jake has gotten older, the other parents have gotten louder. They’re really into the game and watching their kid play. They’re cheering and screaming “Good eye!” and “There ya go boys!” and I’ve got my head in a book. Or I’m on the tablet reading blog posts, commenting, checking my email or playing on Pinterest. I’ll pop my head up when Jake is up to bat and do my own little cheer for my son. See that all you other supportive parents? I’m paying attention … well sort-of.
Last year, Jake was in another league where he was one of the older boys. He hit the ball more, got on base more often and he even started pitching most of the innings. Those days, I would pretend to pay attention by staring at the field but that always turned into me daydreaming and getting lost in my thoughts. What? Ah crap … what just happened?
Now he’s in a league with 9 – 11 year-old boys. He’s one of the youngest and thanks to my genes, the shortest on the team. Most of the boys have been playing in this league for awhile so Jake’s stuck out in left field. And if I don’t get there in time to get a good seat, I can’t see Jake out there unless I stand up and block the other parents. Some days I hear, “Hey mom, did you see me stop that ball and throw it into first?” Yeah honey … I saw your arm and the ball go flying. Good eye.
Don’t get me wrong about this … I truly see all the good in being in little league. The exercise, learning how to be on a team and how to get along with different kids. I’d be thrilled if he can keep playing baseball into high school. The idea of having a coach tell him to keep his grades up or he can’t play instead of his mom … well that’s just genius for any parent.
Don’t forget the potential for a baseball scholarship to help his mother with those college expenses. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself here but a mom can dream, can’t I? But right now, I’m just not into the game. I’m watching time slip by on my watch and wondering if this is the last inning so we can go home.
I realize he’s only in 3rd grade. If he likes to play as much as he claims to love this sport then I know I’ve got years and years and years ahead of me of this baseball stuff. For now, I can stare out into the outfield in my own little world while the other parents think, “Oh what a good mom, staring so intently and watching her son play ball.”