Don’t Be Afraid to Listen to Mom, She Might Just Be Right

Why is it that men…..okay, only SOME men, feel women know nothing about baseball?  Not only do I love to watch it, but I try to learn everything I possibly can about the game.  It has always infuriated me when men downplay my knowledge of the sport.  I don’t claim, nor have I ever claimed, to know everything about the game but I have a pretty good grasp on it. 

A few weeks ago I was getting ready to go to a high school fall baseball game.   The Slippery Rock High School baseball team joined the Shenango league that is played on Sunday afternoon.   The assistant coach called me and said he was going to be a few minutes late….I think I gave him poor directions…oooops!  Anyhow, he said that if I got to the field before him to let the opposing coach know he would be a couple minutes late and also tell the players to start warming up.  Yay!  A job!  Although I knew he’d probably arrive before me. 

I was wrong!  I arrived before him.  Alright, I had a job to do!  And better yet, that job required me, a woman, to go beyond the fence and onto the turf!  When I walked through the gate of the Neshannock High School baseball field, I held my breath waiting for some invisible force to detect that I was full of Estrogen and not Testosterone and zap me!   I was greeted by a group of dads standing there watching the opposing team take infield practice.  They of course looked at me like I had 2 heads and 5 eyes on each.  I smiled at them and said hello which I received a mumbled hello from maybe, at a guess, 2 out the 5 that were standing there.  Oh boy, I thought….this isn’t going to end well.   The conversation went like this:

A mumbled hello from a couple: Hi…

Me:  I talked with Coach S and he is going to be a few minutes late….

Dad 1 interrupting me:  We know.

Me: Oh, okay.  Well, he asked me to let Neshannock know what was going on and to make sure the team was warming up.

Dad 2:  We have it covered.  You aren’t needed.

Me in my brain:  What did you just say to me, you no-good piece of crap arrogant man? …

Dad from the opposing team standing outside the fence (who has known me since Tyler was 7): Ohhhhhhhh, this is gonnnna get gooooood!

Me (after shooting the dad on the outside a “shut up” look):  I realize that you might feel you have it covered, BUT I was given specific instructions from a colleague of mine on what I was to do when I arrived.  That is what I intend to do.  I am employee of the district and feel it is my responsibility to stay here until the coach arrives.  If you don’t like it, I don’t know what to tell you.  So, if you’d like to hang out here and watch, by all means, stick around.  If I need any of you, I will let you know. 

UGHHHH!!!!!!  

You know, there are some baseball moms that can do more than hand out snacks and drive the players to practice.  Some might even make good coaches.  I happen to think women, particularly, moms, are valuable resources in youth athletics. Unfortunately, they don’t get used enough.  I feel women have natural advantages over men when it comes to coaching at that level. 

1.      Women are natural leaders and tend to be less demanding leaders

2.      Women are natural nurturers

3.      Women tend to want to find a balance between competition and cooperation

4.      Women care about all children, not just their own

5.      Women are process- rather than result-oriented

6.      Mothers want to protect children from the pressures of the adult world

7.      Women are safety conscious and risk reluctant

8.      Women coaches are role models for girls and teach them to celebrate being a female athlete

SOOOO, why don’t we see more female Little League coaches?  For that matter soccer, basketball, football or any other youth sport? I think it's because too many men still believe that males are more knowledgeable and commanding when it comes to sports than women.  Because of this stereotypical attitude, most women at the youth sports level simply "go with the flow".  They don’t coach because they are told they aren't needed or they are only use to fill traditional roles, like team mom or they simply don’t volunteer.

Let me take this one step further.  I think moms would make excellent pitching coaches.  I know, I know…but hear me out!

When it comes to wanting their child to be their best and reach their potential there isn’t much a mom wouldn't do. I think nobody in the universe has more impact on young pitchers than their moms have.  Why?

• Lack of ego…..Kids come first, period.  Egocentric is not an attribute that defines most moms.
• Willingness to listen and learn…..There is so much material available to anyone who wants to learn about any aspect of pitching. Believe it or not you don’t have to be a former professional baseball pitcher to be a pitching coach,
• Patience….It takes time and extreme confidence to become a good baseball player.

One of the biggest reasons a young pitcher struggles is because of their lack of confidence. Moms have the special ability to not only to hold their sons accountable but also at the same time make them believe they can be anything they want to be.

We all know moms give the best advice off the field such as: Always wear clean underwear in case you’re  in an accident and don't swallow your gum because it will stay in your stomach for seven years if you swallow it. They also have the remarkable capability to educate, boost and empower their young athlete better than anyone on earth. No matter how big, or tough, or successful they become, everyone can use a little help from mom…..on and off the field.

So to all you men out there who feel you “got this” and “don’t need us baseball moms”…… Don’t be afraid to listen to us, we might just be right.

I'm Growing Up.......

I’m Growing Up.....

I have shared more about my feelings regarding Tyler leaving for college on this blog than anywhere else in my life, mostly because I use this space almost like an online diary.

I think I’m going through a form of separation anxiety with my 18-year-old son.   It’s hard for both of us.  He’s not having any trouble becoming an adult and being on his own… what’s hard for him is dealing with me.

Of course, I don’t remember the first time I had separation anxiety as a baby.  I’m sure I experienced it, since most babies do.  I do remember Tyler crying when I left him at the babysitter when I went to work but I remember my sitter, who is also a great friend, saying, “Go.  Just kiss him good bye, tell him you will be back and leave without looking back. He will be fine.” I remember looking at her thinking, 'Lady, are you crazy?!? This is my baby'!  His little heart was breaking as I walked away.  Truthfully, mine was too.  In his mind, I wasn't coming back.  Finally, he learned to trust that I would return. And I learned to trust he would be okay. 

Oh, how the situation has changed. 

My son is becoming an adult.  He wants to make his own decisions.  He doesn't want me to ask him if he’s done his homework, or if he’s getting enough sleep, or say things like, “Maybe you should shave” or “Please make sure you are eating enough.” 

He’s in college now.  Basically on his own.  He’s attending all his classes, doing his work, playing baseball, making new friends, finding time to see Briana and having a great time.   He’s respectful and kind.  But he wants to grow up.  And this momma’s heart is breaking. 

I know all the right things to think and say.  Really, I do.  I know this is healthy.  My heart is so full of pride for him that it honestly feels like it will burst!   

I’m just being real here.  It hurts that he doesn't need me in the same way he used to.  I actually get giddy when he brings his laundry home! Or when he asks me to look over his research paper.  Or when he texts to tell me he is out of mini muffins.

So I’m going through my own form of separation anxiety but I'm learning to deal with it. I’m learning to withhold advice on the little things, and save it for what really matters.  I’m learning to accept his choices, without following it up with advice on how to do it better.  I’m learning to set aside my desire to pout when he would rather hang out with his friends instead of talking to me on the phone.  I’m learning to not try to make him feel guilty for wanting to be independent.  I’m learning to be fully present when I do have a moment with him and not spoil it by overreacting based on emotion. 


In other words, I’m growing up.  

When Tyler and I talk now it is like two adults talking.  It isn't a son who is hesitant to tell me things because I'm his mother.  He TALKS TO me now.  I cannot tell you how good that feels.  

I had the time of my life in Pittsburgh at the Wild Card game with Tyler and his buddies. For the first time in a long time, he included me and made me feel like he wanted me there.  When he mentioned that they were going to meet up with their buddy before the game, I told him that I would sit in the car and meet up with them when they were ready. He looked at me oddly and said, "I thought you'd come along with us and hang out." 

Whoa! Wait! What?!?  He wanted ME....ME, his mother, the one who had to sit on a bench by myself when I drove him to the Lawrence County Fair to hang out with all his friends?  Me, who is not permitted to follow any of his friends on any form of social media? He wanted me to hang out with his baseball friends?  

We had a blast!  

Maybe we both have grown up?  Or maybe a little separation has done us both good?  

Either way, I'll take it!

When Life Throws You Curve Balls......

Sometimes life throws you curve balls. Even when you fully anticipate it and think you know what you are doing, along comes that pitch that almost takes you out of the game.

You swing hard, but it’s too late.

STRIKE

The anger boils and you want to shout.

Shout about being taking advantage of.

Shout about the lack of gratitude.

Shout about working your tail off for little reward.

Shout about being stabbed in the back.

Shout about friends turning their back on you.

Shout about being rejected.

Shout about not moving forward.

Shout about gaining a couple pounds.

Shout about shouting.

But what good does shouting do. It’s small and bitter and gets you nowhere.

Which is why you gotta get it out, right?

At some point during the shouting, the intense chutzpah needed to fight life back catches you.

It’s up to you.

It’s up to you to either walk away with your head down, feet dragging or to step up to the plate, keep your eye on the ball and start swinging.

It takes three strikes to put you out.

Come back swinging harder and faster than ever have before.

Look life in the eye and say, “Is that the best you've got, because it was piss weak.

Go on and try that again.

The next curve ball you throw, I'm gonna hit outta the park." 

Hold on, I Wanna Call a Do-Over..

When I was a kid, I used to call “do-overs.” It happened a lot when we would play kick ball.

Kick the ball off the side of your foot? Just call a do-over and you got another chance. Of course this depended on who you were playing with. When playing with my dad, he wouldn't hear of a do-over…no %#@*’n way…but if you were with kids who liked do-overs, you could call one and get a second chance.

The do-over was one of childhood's most potent customs, for it applied our power over the laws of space and time. The clock was rolled back, the game was restored to its exact status as before the challenged event and play was resumed. If the original play was important and the second attempt was dramatically different (ex: the player striking out instead of hitting a multi-base shot as in the original play), the do-over might be used again. This second request would give the team another chance thereby insuring that the universal forces of fair play were being honestly maintained.

Last Friday when I arrived home from work, a familiar silver car was in the driveway.  When I walked into the house, I saw a couple empty water bottles on my kitchen counter.  The silverware drawer was part way open.  I saw that the ketchup bottle left out.  I saw a La Roche baseball hat on my dining room table.  When I looked outside,  I saw the glider on the back patio gliding back and forth….I saw Tyler….headphones on, eyes closed, rocking on the glider. 

My boy was home!

Yesterday when I arrived home from work there was no silver car in the driveway.  The kitchen was just as I left it when I went to work….no empty water bottles, no ketchup left out, no La Roche baseball hat lying around.  It was quiet. Too quiet.  I looked out onto the back patio.  I don’t know why I did.  I knew he wasn't there……

So, I’d like a do-over.  I’d like to roll the clock back to yesterday afternoon.  I want to do-over this weekend and make it like last weekend. 

Tyler and Briana were both home last weekend.  It was a great time!  They spent time together at both homes and both families spent Saturday night together at the Canfield Fair.  The kids decided to head back to Pittsburgh early Monday since they had homework. The long holiday weekend wasn't long enough.  “They” say it gets easier each time your child leaves to return to college.  I think “they” are full of beans! 

 So far this weekend sucks.  I feel sad and grumpy.  My house is too quiet.  I'd simply like to call a do-over.  

Wouldn't it be great if we could just rewind our lives and have a do over whenever we wanted? Imagine the untold blessings it would bring if we could simply call a do-over--- to roll back the clock to an exact time when life was perfect...

Makes sense to me....

It's Official....I'm an Empty Nester.....

It’s been a week….

A week ago I left Tyler at La Roche. That final hug was a lot more difficult than I had expected.  My only child is now living among people I do not know, in an unfamiliar environment.  The freshman class has students from 15 countries, not including the United States.  I feel the anxiety daily and feel helpless as a parent.

I’m not going to lie…so far this empty nest stuff sucks!  My house is too quiet.  My house is too clean.  The laundry basket is too empty.  My grocery list is too short.  I laugh and smile too little and spend way too much time talking to my kitten. 

People say, enjoy it…..relax….do things you've always wanted to do…. Blah, blah, blah. I was doing what I wanted to do.  I enjoyed being busy.  I didn't want to relax.  I enjoyed the craziness of our evenings.  It kept me engaged and more importantly, it kept my brain occupied.  I miss it and it’s only been a week.  

Today at work as I was going through the Acceptable Use Policy forms that the middle school students turn in, I was reminded that I no longer have to do that for Tyler. 

And that actually made me smile!

I do not miss filling out the same forms every fall for school with the same information every….single….year…..by hand.  Duplicate sometimes. We live in a world of technology where toddlers can take selfies on an iphone and a cat can play a game on an ipad!   But we still need to fill out school forms by hand.  Every…Single…Year…..

Are there other things I won’t miss now that Tyler is in college?

Living with a moody teenager: I would cringe having friends or family around when Tyler was in one of his moods.  One minute he was a brat, the next minute he was amazingly nice; then he didn't talk; the next you couldn't shut him up. I never knew what to expect from one day or one minute to the next.

Shoes, shoes and more shoes:  I have one child with two feet.  This means he can wear only two shoes at one time.  My entry way constantly looked as though I had three or more children. 

The "know it all" attitude: I went from an authority, a valuable source of information to knowing nothing and I was totally incompetent as it relates to most subjects. On the other hand, he knew it all and had all the answers.

HOMEWORK.  'Nuff said......

Open Drawers:  I’m not sure why this was a difficult one for my son.  After all, he closed it MOST of the way.  Why not give it a smidge more and close it all the way? 

Water Bottles:  Empty…full…half-full….half-empty.  I’d find them everywhere. They were from him....they were from his friends....maybe ghosts were partying at night while we slept....who knows!

College Process:  College applications, essays, application fees. The common app, submit buttons, extra-curriculars, teacher recommendations, PSATS, SATS, ACTS, financial aid, deadlines, safety schools, reach schools, match schools.

NO TP:  Tyler was the master of having just enough TP for him and always left the empty roll for me to take care of.

Can I get that in a gallon size?:  The boy loved his ketchup!  I can now downsize the size ketchup bottle I buy and how often I need to buy it.

Got food?:  Every day I received a text saying, “what we eating”.  That’s how it was worded….what we eating.  And if I didn't get back to him right away I received a second text with a “?”. 

Tyler will be home tomorrow, along with his dirty laundry.  I will have a few days of scattered shoes, half-open drawers, water bottles lying around and lots of laughter and smiles!  For those few days my grown up son will be my little boy again. 

On Monday I will feel that mixture of Momma pride-anxiety-sadness-happiness all over again….and once again letting go after that final hug won’t be easy. I've heard it get easier.....

After he leaves I’ll pick up the empty water bottles and throw them away and I’ll push his dresser drawers closed and I’ll remind myself that this is how it is supposed to be. This is my life for at least the next four years. Then I will sit with Cali and tell her my thoughts about the weekend while waiting for the text saying he’s in his dorm room.

It’s hard to resist the urge to smother. I’m trying to find a balance of the right amount of texts and calls so he knows I’m thinking of him, without seeming like a helicopter parent. I know he will brush his teeth and change his underwear and probably even change the empty roll of TP at some point.

But that is for him to figure out.  I mean, I hope he will be able to change an empty roll of TP by the time he graduates…..right?