High school baseball tryouts were yesterday. I know this, because for the past few weeks my oldest has been asking if I’ve signed him up for it. Even after I printed off the registration, handed it to him, and found all of his gear, placing it on his bed. Make no mistake – I signed you up. I still got the “Mom, I’m signed up right? ‘Cause I can’t tryout if you didn’t register me in advance” Duh. Got it. I’m not a dumb-ass.
Drove him to the field. He had his uniform, his cup, his cleats. He had a bottle of water, his glove, hit batting gloves…you know what he didn’t have? A bat.
Yah, those things tend to come in handy when trying out for baseball.
Drove home, pulled into the driveway on two wheels…ran (in heels, mind you) to the house, yelling up the front steps for the kids to help me find his bat. I found the bat bag. I unzipped it – no bat. Of course not. I ran up to his room. Winded. No bat. Living room – 2 bats. Not the right size. Damn it. Then middle, calls to me. “I found it!” — it was in, what I’ll refer to as the mysterious secret compartment of the bat bag. Who knew there was more than 1 zipper. Well, besides middle.
Ran back out to the car, that I’d apparently left running. Flew back to the field. Parked, ran (still in heels) to the field. Made eye contact with my son, and left the bat bag nonchalantly in the dugout, and took my seat in the bleachers.
A few minutes later, I got a text from my husband. He had just pulled up. “Is that you sitting in the bleachers?” To which I responded, “um. duh. yes.” To which he responded, “back away slowly and get outta there. This is not a mom event. Not cool.” Hmmm…that explains why I was the only person sitting in the bleachers.
But I was tired. I needed to sit. Give a girl a break! Anywho, I got back up, walked off the bleachers, down the long and never-ending walkway back up to the car, where I spotted another mom. I guess she already knew about the “no mom” rule – she was incognito with sunglasses on, window partially unrolled and snapping pics from a distance. This clearly wasn’t her first rodeo.
When tryouts were over, I praised my son for his hustle in the field, for his swing…good stance. All in all, a great tryout.
“Mom, there are two more days of tryouts.” Shit. Really?
Today, I’m prepared. Got my sunglasses. Got the bat bag and all things baseball, ready to go.
Got my sneakers on just in case.