T-Ball

We are nearly done with T-Ball. One son missed two games (asleep during both), and another son was kept home once due to suspected illness. So three games missed. Next week we have four to attend, and then no more.

It will be akin to heaven. No more will I have to divide my attention between the son throwing sand behind me on the playground and the son throwing sand in front of me on the baseball diamond. 

No more will I have to fish my daughter out from in between the equipment box and the backstop fence because she went back there to do her business, and then cannot even move because her diaper is too squishy.

No more will I feel like The Only Single Mom, for two hours, twice a week.

No more will I feed my kids substandard dinners in the forgotten strip mall because they have restaurant chairs and a working bathroom inside, but no operational restaurants or even grocery stores to tempt the children into throwing tantrums over their pathetic meal. 

I am doing it again next year, for all three. What’s the definition of crazy, again?

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