Little League Baseball Begins again!

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . August 19, 2009 . 1:59PM

It’s time for fall baseball! My loyal readers, bless your hearts, know that I’ve been in something of a withdrawal since spring baseball was finished in mid-June. There have been no funny stories about parents going at each other, no heroic stories about kids doing brave deeds in the name of the game and no friendship stories that center around the team spirit that comes from the love that can only happen in a dugout (during gametime, not after game fumbling between two teenagers).

A.J. has a new team and he doesn’t know a single player. He’s not the only tall boy because he’s moved up to the 9/10 age range and these kids mean business. The fall season is predominantly about learning. No score is kept and coaches focus on teaching the mechanics of each position and being a good sportsman. At least, in theory, that is the goal.

In order to keep A.J. in something of prime shape, we’d tried to pair him with a coach during his down time to help him focus on some problem areas that we thought fixing might help make him feel more comfortable with his game-play. He adored his downtime coach, even though his time with the coach was cut short due to what A.J. refers to as “the Kentucky Incident.”

I don’t know that I’ve blogged this, but after a short time of telling everyone, including the clients at my job site and the people I work with, about the Kentucky Incident, he has now decided that he is refusing to ever discuss this tragedy ever again.

So, A.J. had met a coach he liked and this week we found out that A.J. is on this coach’s team for the fall season. A.J. is happier than a pig in slop. He had his first practice with his new team today and I had some observations.

One, kids will remember the last thing you said. And that’s it. Coach said, “I need half of you to line up behind shortstop and half of you to line up behind second base.” All 11 children lined up behind second base.

Two, there are some children who aren’t cut out for the sport. I viewed this instance in what seemed like slow-motion. One child looked at a pop-up with a quizzical expression, stuck his tongue out thoughtfully, clasped his hand and glove together, shook his head and let the ball fall next to him. And then nodded to himself as if to say, “Yep. And there it went.” I nodded with him.

Three, even if they are lining up for something unpleasant, if you tell kids to line up, they will run like their pants are on fire to be first in line. In this particular case, they were lining up to simply run the bases. I would rather eat my arm off my body.

Four, and this is going to sound cheesy, but children are like flowers. If you give them strict boundaries, discipline and compliments every time they do things exactly right, it’s like water, air and sunshine to flowers. They will flourish, work hard and try even harder to do their absolute best.

They GROW. I’ve never seen my son run so hard.

With the exception of the time he ran from the upstairs to the street for the ice cream truck.

Baseball’s over, my life is back, why am I sad?

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . June 15, 2009 . 1:22PM

A.J.’s team ended the season as first in their age bracket and 2nd in the tournament. After 2 games a week, for 3 months, the season is over and we can finally have our weekends back. So, why am I sad?

I woke up Sunday morning feeling slightly melancholy. A.J.’s team finished their time together on Saturday and they won’t play together as a team again, as he’ll enter a new age bracket and it gets “serious” now. You don’t understand. At age 9, they start “majors” and “minors” and “drafts” and all kinds of craziness that turns this from a hobby into a pressure-crazed event that takes all of sports-centric parents into lean, mean, stage-mom machines.

Before I pulled my sunburned body out of bed, I lay there for a couple of minutes and contemplated the reasons why I might be feeling down over the end of this particular season.

Was it because they got along so well? This team worked very well together and anyone that has an 8-year-old knows that getting 12 of them together is just asking for temper tantrums and egos. We didn’t have any of that.

Was it because I like winning and they were, hands down, the strongest team overall? True, I have a competitive nature and I enjoyed watching them win, however I’m ok with them losing, too. Watching them was a joy.

Was it because I now have nothing to do on my weekends? Hardly. I’ve got a wedding next weekend and I haven’t been able to go out of town on a weekend in ages. Shopping? I try to “work it in” between baseball games.

I think, what I’ll miss most, is the true sense of community that this experience has brought to me and my family. We moved to this home over a year ago, but the majority of our friends are still those that we made at college or who live in the big city. Having friends who have families and live in this small community is new for us. They have similar values and connect with us in different ways than our other friends do. It only enriches our lives more.

What made this more poignant was that I didn’t truly realize the value of our baseball community until the end of the season. I’ve grown attached to these children because I’ve watched them grow and cheered them on all season. When one of them got hurt on Saturday, my heart jumped into my throat and I felt sick to my stomach the same way I would if A.J. got hurt. Evolutionary psychologists would imply that this is a basic function of community: we stick together to ensure our survival and take care of one another. We’ve done that all season.

I’ve commiserated with parents. Been angry with umpires. Consoled and encouraged children. Hugged most of them and adored all of them. Fed them and watched them all become such amazing players and move out of their comfort zones. Most of all, I’ve felt as proud of all of them as I feel for my own child. They are a special group and, as his first team, they hold a special place for me and for him. I hope that I can continue to watch them grow and excel.

While I’m sad for myself, I’m excited and curious to see where they are heading. I know that it will be somewhere special.

AJ’s leftovers

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . June 4, 2009 . 11:31AM

May 8, 2009
Trip time in the car

AJ: “Mom, can we get some shade over here? I’m really hot?”
Me: “How would you like me to do that?”
AJ: “I don’t know, but I’m really hot.”
Me: “I tell you what, I can turn up the air, but that’s all I can do. I’m sorry I can’t turn off the sun for you.”

May 15, 2009

Last night, I’d broken down and had Leon get us some cookies to satisfy a minor craving I’d been having. We’d had them less than 24 hours and had hidden them from AJ because the only thing he likes more than cookies and cake is ice cream.

He went in the kitchen to find a spoon and lo and behold:

Messenger conversation:3:45pm
Me: He has already found the cookies. Amazing.
Leon: What? What was he looking for?
Me: A spoon. Even though they were right in front of his face. I’m telling you–he has cookie sixth sense.

May 16, 2009

We’d gotten up early for a Little League game that had, at the last minute, been canceled due to rain, but could possibly be rescheduled for later in the day. AJ was trying to decide which of the dogs I would bring to the game with me, as is normal for us.

Me: “I don’t know that I will bring any dog to the game. You don’t get to decide if I bring one because you don’t have to keep an eye on them during the game.”

AJ: (eyeing me closely and shrewdly) “You can always go back to bed.”

Was he implying I was cranky?