So why these double chocolate pop-tarts? Well, for one, my kids LOVE pop-tarts. Watching him play makes me so proud to be his parent, not because he’s the best player, but because I can see how big his heart is… even from my nosebleed seat on the sticky bleachers. He’s the youngest and second smallest kid on the team, but I can also say he’s the most happy and smiliest kid too, win or lose. Homemade Double Chocolate Pop-Tarts!īefore we move on to the double chocolate pop-tarts, I’ll leave you with this *adorable* picture of George. But all these things, hard days and messy relationships and runny noses included, are stretching points for my kid and me, and I think, ultimately, it’s really healthy to learn to work through those things. And don’t even get me started on my new seasonal allergy regimen between the pollen and the dirt, I don’t even know what’s in my eyes anymore. It’s uncomfortable to hear the other parents be hard on their kids (or others parents, for that matter). It’s always a tiny bit painful to watch your kid on days when everything seems to fall apart. Of course, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. We’re yelling louder, cheering for the other kids by name, and even participating in passive aggressive banter with the umpire who is clearly friends with the Dads coaching the other team. And while the kids are learning and getting better with each game, we Moms are too. It’s thrilling to watch them learn and improve and do things you didn’t even know they could do, like slide into the plate or nail a triple, and at the same time, it’s equally fun to watch them do all sorts of stuff you did know they could do: draw pictures in the dirt of the outfield, trip over their shoelaces on the way to the dugout, or scream, “I GOTTA PEE!” as they cross home plate. Is being a baseball mom a sport too?Īlready, I can see how parents get so into their kid’s sports. That’s for the birds.” Little did I know all that I was missing out on: Cheese fries, sticky bleachers, and the comedic gold that is 5-year-olds dog-piling their teammates to grab the baseball. Years ago, I rolled my eyes as my friends described their weeknight schedules- “ THREE night games per week? Pfft. It’s our first year with a kid in organized sports, but I can already tell- I’ve drunk the Kool-Aid and am all in. With some newly freed up time (Sayonara, dishes!), I’ve enjoyed diving head-first into all the Mom activities, specifically the animal formally known as Little League Baseball. And no, my feelings aren’t hurt, why do you ask? Unsurprisingly, my kids love it apparently, dinners comprised of carry-out and frozen pizzas are more desirable than the quinoa salads and roasted veggies they’ve grown up on so far. With dance recitals and t-ball games and end of school year programs upon us, it’s been a mental practice (and breath of fresh air) to release myself from the constant need to be bustling about the kitchen. Y’all, I have been absent from the kitchen as of late.
0 kommentar(er)
