Posts Tagged ‘Little League’

A New Look at Laundry

Friday, July 2nd, 2010

I’ve been busy washing Matt’s sandy stuff from Junior Guard at the beach, followed by his sweaty stuff from baseball.

Day after day.

I was going to whine here a bit, but then I realized how incredibly fortunate I am to have this wonderful kid who is healthy and able to do these activities. I am blessed.

Pass the OxiClean!

Wordless Wednesday: Welcome Spring!

Wednesday, March 17th, 2010

Boys and Battle Scars

Thursday, April 30th, 2009

Found out that my 7th-grader, who got whacked in the nose with a baseball at practice, has a hairline fracture. Fun!

At least it isn't dislocated. The thought of the "fix" for that gave both of us the shudders. (Do they just numb it up, grab it and straighten that baby out? I have no idea. Not sure I want to know…)

So we're each handling it in our own way. I'm trying not to ask him, every 15 minutes, "How does your nose feel?" And Matt? He seems secretly just a bit pleased to have a sports-related battle scar to talk about with his buddies.

Boys. You gotta love 'em.

A Little League Mom Rounds Third

Tuesday, July 8th, 2008

Sena2It wasn’t all that long ago that my son, Matt, was thrilled to be wearing his first baseball glove (carefully broken in by Dad in a weeks-long ritual involving special oil, rubber bands and voo-doo, I think). Matt was beyond excited to help carry the team banner in his first Little League parade, and he couldn’t wait to get up to bat in his first t-ball game.

That little guy with the baggy baseball pants is now 12 years old,  5’7″, a pretty good pitcher and running full-tilt toward his next baseball league. Time, it seems, is rushing by faster than a line drive to left field.

So it was especially poignant to open my e-mail recently and to read a note from the president of our local Little League:

“On a personal note, our fourth child will leave Little League for high school baseball next fall. For the first time in 15 years, we will not have a child playing Little League,” he wrote. “The time slipped by very quickly and our children have few memories of championships or All Star teams. Instead, they just have a love of the game, an appreciation for sportsmanship and competition, and fond memories of time spent with Dad.”

He ended his letter to the parents with some advice: “Please relax and enjoy this time in your child’s life. It will pass quickly…”

That’s something I’ve tried to keep in mind every season as Team Sena scurries around the house, grabbing cleats, equipment and water bottles, and then heading off to yet another game, yelling to each other “Did someone feed the dog?” “Do you have your baseball cap?” “Are the stadium seats in the trunk?” as we rush out the door.

Between practice and games (on top of homework and all the regular stuff that keeps a mom churning until 11:00 most nights), my time certainly isn’t my own during baseball season. But I’m acutely aware that that’s not a permanent state of affairs. So I’m trying to appreciate each crack of the bat just a bit more than I probably did when the end wasn’t so clearly in sight (or, let’s face it, when my turn for snack-stand duty rolled around).

Because in the not-too-distant future, I’ll have to be satisfied with flipping through scrapbooks and watching home videos showing a bunch of wound-up, grass-stained, sunflower-seed-filled boys in a dugout, yelling “LET’S GO SEN-A!”

I hope Matt has wonderful memories of these years. I know his dad and I will. The knowledge that nothing lasts forever — in Little League or in life — sometimes makes my heart ache as a parent. But it also makes every snack-stand hot dog, every scramble to first base, every glance up at the stands to grin at Mom and Dad after a good play, just that much more delicious.

They’re Winners at Heart, Too

Sunday, August 26th, 2007

Wow. Twelve-year-old Dalton Carriker just hit a home run
in the bottom of the eighth inning to give Warner Robins,
Georgia a 3-2 win over Tokyo in the championship game of the
Little League World Series.

In a game like this, it’s easy to say there are no losers. It’s tough to get to this level, and all the players are top-notch. Yet one team has to come out on top. As a mom, it was hard to see the tears streaming down the faces of the boys from the Tokyo team. They’re just a year older than my own son, and they had just played their hearts out.

Then something wonderful happened.

 

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