Another Exciting Public Outing

Saturday was opening day for t-ball or rookie ball or whatever the hell it's called for Ethan. Naturally, Nate was working and so it was me against the three, which is always the best combo, especially considering that thousands of people were going to be there, AND we are Little League virgins and had no idea what to expect.

My first critical lesson of kid sports was learned when we dressed Ethan in his uniform that morning. Through some serious disorganization on our little league's part and due to full schedules I had to buy Ethan's stuff the night before, alone, without him being present. I thought I did really good, and felt completely solid about my totally I'm-his-mom-I-know-what's-up guesses. I patted myself on my back as I walked out of the sports store.

Well, I bought a left-handed glove instead of a right-handed glove. He was swimming in his pants.

Just because I'm his mom, that does not mean I can correctly eyeball his size, apparently. I seriously recommend taking your kid(s) with you when you buy their uniforms. Oh, that's common sense, you say? It doesn't help that there is no sizing info on the uniform tags, either, like "Small fits xx weight and height, etc."

We made the pants work because we had no choice, scrapped the glove because he wasn't actually playing that day anyway. Connor chose to represent by wearing a shirt the same color as his brother's jersey and Brandon wanted to wear a cap like Ethan was, too. So Ethan had his own little fan club in his little brothers and that had to make him feel like a rock star. A rock star who looked like he had a full load in the back of his pants.

As we were walking out of the door, I realized that I hadn't eaten. (Who the hell forgets to eat?) We arrived at the ball park and parked a mile away, then sat in the wrong bleacher section because I'm profoundly smart and didn't know how to distinguish A from AA from Rookie. Eventually, we figured out my error and after a half an hour of keeping the younger boys from tumbling down the bleachers or being stepped on by a thousand people, it was time for the teams to be announced and parade out onto the field.

Before Ethan's team came out, we watched 700 teams parade out onto the field. All of the players were excited. They ran, trotted, waved their hats, high-fived the other players. It was cute and I couldn't wait for Ethan's team to come out so I could see him do the same. I wanted to see his excitement.

His team came out. They walked like they were in a funeral procession. I'm not kidding. It was horrible. People in the stands weren't even sure if they should clap because it was like, what the fuck is happening? I'm actually on film saying, "What a bunch of mopes!" and then laughing uncomfortably.

Then we gathered for pictures and as I filled out the picture order form I realized that kids sports cost so much more than the sign-up fee. 

As Ethan was getting his picture taken, Connor and Brandon knocked down the giant rope barricade that crossed a large portion of the field, nearly decapitating a tiny little kid they were playing with. Then a mom that was standing about 30 feet away from me graciously informed me that my zipper was down. I was mortified and could have kissed her for telling me but instead thanked her and silently wished for her to have a thousand nights where her young kids slept all night and then slept in, too. She took her grace even further by sharing that a while back she had been grocery shopping and looked like an unwashed hag, yet a bunch of guys kept checking her out and she couldn't figure out why. Then she got in the car and realized that her zipper was down. 

She goes in my "awesome mom hall of fame" and I probably should have asked her for her phone number to call her up and hang out, but didn't.

Then it was time for Ethan to do his "clinicals." I thought they were in t-ball, not in nursing school but that's okay, I know there are several meanings for the same word. The gist of clinicals is, they're boring for everyone NOT doing them. Connor and Brandon played in the dirt and the mud puddles and the dog shit and the dugout, ate snacks and drank juice and asked to leave a hundred times. Then Connor OF COURSE had to take a dump.

Let me paint the scene for you. Across from the fields, there is a giant forest-y park that a thousand homeless people camp in every night. The restrooms, because they are part of parks and rec, are open during the day, so the homeless people use the sinks for their bird baths and the toilets to take their meth dumps and vomit in and all that jazz. Also, a thousand kids use them because you know, it's a giant parks and rec facility.

In other words, they are the among the most disgusting restrooms you'll ever encounter. They're  worse than gas stations, McDonalds, anything. And I had to take my two-year-old, who licks everything, and my four-year old, who touches everything, into them so the four-year-old could contribute to the grossness. On the way in, I told them over and over to keep their hands to themselves, don't touch anything, blah blah blah is what they heard. In the stall, I told Brandon to stand against the door and put his hands in his pockets and leave them there. He complied until it was time to wipe Connor's ass. I had my back turned and was doing the classic "bend over my kid while he sticks his head between my legs ass-wiping position" when my mom instinct told me to check Brandon.

I half-turned, and saw that he had spread himself prone on the bathroom floor, hands and face splat on the piss-, shit-, and drug-covered ground. As I was holding shit-smeared toilet paper in one hand and spreading Connor's butt cheeks apart with the other, I started yelling "GET OFF THE FLOOR! GET OFF THE FLOOR NOW!" Actually, I was probably screaming, or maybe it just sounded like it because it was loudly echoing off the cement walls. Everyone in the restroom fell silent and you could hear a heroin needle pin drop.

We finished and of course the city doesn't provide soap dispensers for the homeless sink showers, so I instructed the boys not to touch their faces until we could get back to our bag on the field and I could wash them down with wipes and sanitizer. So, Connor picked his nose and Brandon rubbed his eyes and licked his palms.

Back at the field, Ethan, who hasn't yet learned baseball etiquette, ran across a baseball diamond mid-game for another team, causing the coach to halt the game until he finished crossing, while I stupidly yelled and gestured at him from 60 feet away to move outside of the diamond, which further confused him and caused more delay. 

Finally, the day was done and we got out of there. I was exhausted and it was only noon. Pretty typical these days.

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