This is Madeline, batting for her travel team “Osage Pink”. Like the hot pink polka-dot socks?
Our summer evenings these days go like this. Matt gets off work and he and Madeline do chores. Then he and the kids head for the lawn to work on pitching practice for Madeline, and batting practice for all three of them. I either watch, or shag balls for them. We head to a ball game, or two if both girls are playing on the same night. (In that case we’re at the ball diamond from 5:30 until 9:00.) Come home, and Madeline usually wants to work on pitching and batting again until it’s too dark to see the ball. Olivia and I get the horse out and go for a ride. Rafe catches lightning bugs.
I love the time spent outdoors, the summertime activities, the long days, warm weather and light summer breezes. The feeling of grass under my bare feet. Cows out grazing. Visiting with everyone at the ball game. Watching the kids’ skills improve, cheering them on when they make an out or hit a double, cheering them up when they don’t pull out a win. A sweaty, dirty, shirtless boy, skin tanned dark brown, hair lightened by the sun. Tonight I was wishing I could capture it, store it, and hit “play back” sometime next winter. Is it weird to feel sentimental, to long for something while you’re still in the middle of it?
It’s been a crazy month. The house is never clean, not all at once anyway. The laundry is never caught up. Supper is either a fend-for-yourself event, or concession stand food. Olivia’s last game was tonight. After Madeline’s park-&-rec team tournaments the next two nights, and a triple-header for her travel team on Saturday, ball will be over for this summer. And I’m already starting to miss it.
You’re a great mom. Your kids will cherish these memories as well. I played ball when I was the girl’s ages and thrived on it. My parents never came to a game and made me quit after a few years. It was tough for me. Even if the house is in disaray and things fall behind, you’re doing what’s most important for your family and I admire that.
I like Iowa’s old slogan better: “Iowa, a place to grow.”Your post is a great plug for Iowa. My parents never made it to my games, concerts, or high school musicals either. Now I understand how hard they worked, but it hurt then. Stay a good mom. I notice that the catcher in the picture has pads on her calves to make it easier to stay in the squat. If only I had those as a kid! My dad was a pretty good catcher in the men softball leagues, so when I was in little league, coaches assumed I would make a good catcher too. Except I was too heavy to make it through an inning. Right field for me. I should note that you mentioned you would be at the Mason farmer’s market. As I was driving to visit a friend in Anamosa, I stopped on a lark at the Monticello farmer’s market and bought him some housewarming gifts of homemade bread. If you hadn’t mentioned it a month ago, I wouldn’t have been prompted to help out the economy there.
animal roll call if you’d like to contribute at the pile. we’d like to know your current tally.