Strike One...

So baseball has started back up. And for me, that means all of my not-so-new insecurities are right back front and center. Every year I struggle with feeling like I just don't fit in with the other baseball moms in my community. For one reason or a thousand, I feel like a misfit.

So as usual, I try and arrange things so that Matt has to take the boys and I can comfortably avoid the situation as much as possible. And that way he can come home and give me the skinny before I walk onto the field cold turkey introducing myself to all the other parents who already seem to know each other from their kids being in the T-ball league since their birth.

Well, this plan failed this year. Elliot's first practice rolled around and Matt called from work at 4:30(the exact time practice started mind you) to inform me that he wasn't going to make it because an important client had popped in and he couldn't get away. WHATEVER! I wonder if he told that client what this was costing his poor wife! I almost passed out. What could I do? There was not even time for deodorant, and I hadn't even had a shower that day! My hair was in bobby pins and I was wearing dirty clothes that I had been painting in all afternoon.

But before I could think, we were off.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I tried to think of every reason why it was OK just to drive up, slow down, throw my son out of the van and speed off. Feeling that he was a bit more important than my insecurities, I decided against it. Most of the men were on the field, and all the moms were on the sidelines wearing outfits that looked as if they cost as much as my mini van. (Reason number one that I don't fit in). I was instantly ashamed of my smelly, tacky, redneck self, so I decided to just stand by the back fence.

But then on second thought, I said to myself, "What? Am I in junior high school?? Just go introduce yourself and get on with life already!"

So that's what I did. I just walked right up, introduced myself and before I knew it, we were talking and laughing about motherhood. Well, what do ya know? Instant common ground. And I was fine. They were nice. It was great. I had grown up a bit and was extremely proud of my progress in this area.

"I'm really a confident person." I thought to myself. "Most people would have just stayed by the fence. But not me. No way. I'm too mature for that." They may have nicer clothes and cars and smell really pretty, but they can't touch me in the confident, maturity department." I was so proud of myself I couldn't even concentrate on anything they were saying.

Then Matt arrived to relieve me so I could go home and clean up for church. I wasn't mad at him at all anymore for leaving me hanging. It had turned out to be a good thing for me. I was ridin' my pride. But before I left, he leaned down close and effortlessly shattered my dreams with one simple statement...

"Hey, honey? You have a booger in the right side of your nose."

Why? Why Lord? Why did I have to have the booger? It just couldn't be that simple, could it? There just had to be a booger involved. It wasn't enough that I was unclean, had paint in my pinned back hair, and was dressed like most of the men on the field. Nope. Something was missing. I know!!! Let's throw a booger in the mix!

Wow. Let the record show that the proud will be humbled. Even if it takes a booger to get the job done.

Oh, I just can hardly wait for the next practice!!

Stike one!!!


Peace, Love & all that Jazz....