Baseball season is over.
I'm of two minds about that fact.
I'm somewhat nostalgic. Baseball has been great for our family this year. This was the first organized sport the boys have ever done. And it was an amazing experience. The players and the coach made it amazing.
I don't know about you, but I am totally an "it takes a village" person, when it comes to raising my kids. There is no way on God's green earth that I can teach my kids every thing they need to know to survive and thrive! I just don't have all the skill sets.
Which is why it makes me rather weepy-eyed, squeezy-heart, choked-up feeling, when someone pours into my kids. Our Coach James poured. And poured.
What a guy! Seriously! He had the heart of a teacher. The heart of a coach. He wanted all the boys to succeed. He sacrificed his time on all the Tuesdays and Thursdays of June and July to give of his expertise and wisdom so these boys could learn to be baseball players.
And I do mean, learn. My boys were not the only boys on the team with zero baseball skills. There were 2 great players (the coaches' son, and son's friend), 2 good players, and 7 really not good players.
He taught them how to play baseball. He drilled the skills. He had easy to remember one-liners. "Play's on first." "Eyes on the ball." "Watch it into your mitt." "Get your mitt dirty."
No matter how frustrating it must have been (and I'm sure it was), he never let his frustration show. He never lost his cool. He just kept instructing, repeating, encouraging.
Consequently, each one of these players is now in love with the game. They get the game-even if their skills are a bit rough (really, really rough) still. They all improved-a lot.
I was so proud of them. I was proud of them in their orange jerseys, cleats, and gloves. I was proud of them when they lost their first 3 games. I was proud of them when they went on to win the next 5. I was proud of them for showing up. I was proud of them for every ball that was hit. I was proud of them for every ball that was caught. For each strike against the other team. For each walk for our team. For every play at first, and second, and third.
And I will miss it. I will miss sitting in my lawn chair, swatting bugs, sweating, and cheering as loud as I could.
Yes, I'm definitely nostalgic with the end of the baseball season.
I'm also somewhat panicked.
July is done! (Practically speaking.)
I knew that we were committing on Tuesdays and Thursdays through June and July. And that when baseball ended, so would July.
8 weeks of baseball done. 4 weeks of swimming lessons-winding down. The summer almost over.
I know. It really isn't. We still have all of August. But, have you seen my calendar?
My summer life-style consisting of training, naps, baseball, swimming, and occasional cooking and cleaning, is about to get a bit harried.
Summer is going out with a bang!
I'm trading baseball, naps and swim lessons for VBS, a wedding, sewing a flower girl dress for said wedding and also making pulled pork for said wedding.
Plus 2 birthdays. And our 14th(!!) anniversary.
A husband who is doing long roofing days on a huge (700 square) roof about an hour from home, with an abbreviated crew.
School curriculum that needs planned and ordered. School cabinets that need organized. School supplies that need purchased. Last year's transcripts needing to be filled out for BMV.
Grandparents in town for a week.
Peaches needing canned. Tomatoes needing canned.
And triathlon training still needs to happen. As well as working on She Plans Dinner.
It is going to be a delicate dance between careful planning and living in/enjoying the summer moments. Flexibility and scheduled. One step at a time and multi-tasking.
It's going to be a continued pattern of letting go what can be let go. Focusing on the important-for importance's sake, and before everything becomes urgent.
It's going to be a intentional focusing on enjoying the last hurrah of summer, before the seasons turn to fall.