Baseball season

Like many moms this time of year, I am spending a great deal of time at my local little league park. Joshua is playing rookie league (coach's pitch) this year, a big step up from the t-ball of the past two years. We practice twice a week, and have one to two games a week. That makes for a lot of nights, sitting on metal bleachers with the other moms.

Josh's team is undefeated, so far this year. They have won eight games, and are the only unbeaten team in their league. This is apparently a far cry from last year, when the team lost. A lot. This year, Josh and two other boys are the only two new boys on the team. Everyone else has at least one year experience at this level, and it shows!

However, what I think is the funniest thing of all is the moms in the stand (myself included). The kids are out on the field, having a grand ole' time. They are trying their hardest, cheering each other on, and encouraging one another when a mistake is made. They are rushing the field for every home run. It's adorable. If they bother to ask about the score, their coaches tell them it doesn't matter, and to pay attention to the game and just do their best. They are absolutely fine with this.

We moms are also cheering. We shout for each child (our own the loudest, of course). We yell encouragement. We never, ever say anything negative or challenge the umpire -- things which are completely forbidden at this ball park.

We also, however, are seemingly obsessed with the score. We keep track of runs and outs as if we were the official scorekeeper. If ever two parents have a different result at the end of an inning, someone's older child is sent round to the scorekeeper for an update. We find ourselves saying something like, "Why do they keep throwing home? Get it back to the pitcher and stop the play -- that kid at home can't catch." Only to realize it is our child on home base. Not that I would ever say that, of course . . .

It's a good thing someone's priorities and attitudes are right.