I Am a Baseball Mom

I am a baseball mom. My oldest son started playing baseball a few months shy of his fourth birthday. So yeah… I’ve been a baseball mom for almost as long as I’ve been a mom. The thing about being a baseball mom is it’s not a tenured position. When your last kid playing is done, your career is over too. Saying good-bye, even to a sport as cruel as baseball, is not so easy. Trust me, I know. My baseball mom days are numbered.

Today I find myself in the twilight of my youngest son’s college baseball career. It is the day before the last pool play game of the ACC conference tournament. Although a loss earlier in the week means the team cannot advance, I’m still hopeful it won’t be the end. If I dare to let it, my imagination runs wild with possibility. If they pull off a win tomorrow… if all the right teams lose… if the sun, moon and stars are in perfect alignment… maybe, just maybe that’ll be enough to squeeze a few more weeks out of the season. A road trip to a regional leads to a road trip to a super regional, which leads to the road to Omaha. It’s possible. You know what they say. It’s not how you start, it’s how you finish. Stranger things have happened. After all, it’s baseball. read more

#28 Signs You Might Be a Baseball Mom

This post is dedicated to all my baseball mom comrades, past and present. You know who you are and you know I couldn’t have done this without you.

You might be a baseball mom if…
You realize those flip-flop tan lines on your feet are actually red clay stains.

You might be a baseball mom if…
Every time you open your car door, a minimum of three half-empty water or Gatorade bottles falls out.

You might be a baseball mom if…
You’ve convinced yourself that Slim Jims, the pump cheese stuff on concession stand nachos and Dippin’ Dots are acceptable sources of protein. read more