The Ballgame

Dear people without kids. Please do me a favor. Get in your car and go somewhere. Go anywhere. Just pick yourself up, on the slightest whim, and go.

First, appreciate the fact that it didn't take you 20 minutes to pack a diaper bag, feed a baby, and load kids in the car. Then as you drive, please relish the fact that there is not an unhappy screaming baby in your backseat. Soak in the luxury of not having a toddler incessantly screeching in your ear, "What does disturbed mean," "What does frustrated mean," "Why don't trees sleep?"  Finally, arrive at your destination without having to first unbuckle two children, throw a diaper bag over your shoulder, and lift the world's heaviest carseat from your vehicle.

Please. Just soak it in. Every moment. So that I can live vicariously through you! Ok. Now that that's done, we can move on.

So, my husband won tickets to a local minor leage baseball game. Because we can never find enough ways to torture ourselves, we decided to take the kids along with us.

The first obstacle was my 45 minute drive to the game where we were meeting my husband. As I predicted, Ryan began crying the second we hit the open freeway. After listening to him scream for 20 minutes, I did what any rational person would do. I drove the car WHILE feeding him a bottle. I was in the front seat. He was in the seat directly BEHIND me. Kids, don't try this at home:

After 10 minutes, my arm felt like it was going to fall off. Amazingly, I managed to stay in my lane and go the speed limit the entire time. I honestly think I deserved some kind of gold nedal for that performance.

We arrived at the game just in time for the first inning. Seats behind home plate! Perfect view... of the backside of the baseball players, that is!

Unfortunaly, I only watched about 7 fragmented minutes of the entire game. The rest of the time I was chasing Jacob, who quickly became surrounded by a gaggle of new toddler friends, or feeding Ryan, who was very content to just sit on my lap and smile at the people around us.

We got into the spirit of the game and dressed Jacob accordingly.

Then we found the team mascot. I learned the hard way that the Rainier Raindeer does not like to be called a moose. If you ask me, I think someone's jockey straps are on a little tight.

When I wasn't chasing Jacob, I was escorting him to the bathroom. Either he likes to annoy me or his bladder is the size of a kidney bean. Ryan and I hung out in the bathroom while we waited for Jake to do his business.

Hanging out.

 

We left the game at the top of the ninth but not before Jacob's new girlfriends all gave him big, wet goodbye smooches. It was a shame we were leaving early, but also very necessary. Truth: a kid who misses his bedtime the night before is worse than discovering a turd in your coffee. After you've already taken a sip!