Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Where For Art Thou, Baseball?

My life will be significantly different this summer. My high-schooler has decided he's had enough of high school sports. And my almost nine-year-old has decided if his brother ain't playin', he ain't playin', neither.

That means no baseball.

It's taking a while for this to sink in. I mean, I could still go to games and watch. But that's not really what baseball season meant to me.

Baseball was sweating my ass off as the fattest (and probably oldest, I reckon) mom working in the Snack Shack. Doling out nachoes and hot dogs and shivering with revulsion when I learned the secrets of the Snack Shack nacho cheese and hot dogs. Let's just say there's no guarantee that cheese or that dog is fresher than say, last week.

Baseball was interacting with the parents of the other players. Some I like a whole lot. Some, not so much. I'm sure they felt the same way about me. But they missed out on making friends with a fabulously funny gal (right?)

Baseball was figuring out how I could get out of work early enough to get my son to his game or practice.

Baseball was waiting -- waiting for practice to be over. waiting for the game to start. waiting to see if my son would even get in the game. Waiting for a plateful of nachoes from the Snack Shack.

Baseball was worry. Worry when the phone rang with a call from the coach saying my son had been hurt yet again. Worry that the shot to the head would hurt his brain, which I am counting on for med school. Worry that my son just didn't seem to be all that dedicated or interested in getting better or playing more.

Of course, that turned out to be true. And now that I think about it, it might just be fun to spend a summer going to a few baseball games as a SPECTATOR, not a PARENT.

I will miss the nachoes, though.

Friday, December 26, 2008

Maybe I'm the Crazy One

Several times at our Christmas Eve family gathering, I heard different relatives express the opinion that they were "tired" of the traditional Christmas gathering and gift giving and we were all crazy for not being in Arizona. Or New Mexico. Or Florida. Somewhere, anywhere, decidedly warmer than Omaha, Nebraska, in December.

I have no interest in these holiday travels. Why it just would not be Christmas without the family gatherings.

The "loud" discussions that, yes, can deteriorate into arguments. The nephews who mix strong drinks for themselves, their friends and their uncles. Which sometimes contribute to the "loud" discussions. When you can smell the CC in a CC and Coke from three feet away, that's a strong drink. Strong enough to loosen quite a few tongues.

Is it really Christmas until Grandpa gives somebody some unasked-for or unwanted advice? No. Is it really Christmas until some child (usually one of mine) sneers at one of the gifts he's received instead of just saying, thank you so much? Is it really Christmas without the sour-cream mashed potatoes, the peanut butter cup cookies, fudge, chicken and noodles and staggering home so tired you can hardly stay awake? Is it really Christmas without a nap?

I would miss all these things. They will be gone soon enough. Grandmas get older and eventually they stop getting older. They are gone. Then, the big family gatherings don't seem to be a priority for anybody any more. It can only take one year, maybe two, and the extended family get togethers break up into nuclear family celebrations.

Which are good too. But let's not rush their onset. Let's enjoy it while we can.