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writing some wrongs
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As a celebration to end the baseball season, my son's team coach decided we should have a mom/son game. When I got the e-mail, I swear my heart stopped for a moment. Me? Baseball? OK, I think I know which end of the bat to hold. :)

Actually, I used to be pretty good at hitting, if nothing else. I'm not shabby at catching and throwing; it's the chasing and running that get to me! I was kind of nervous. Nobody expects real athletic prowess here, but I didn't want to embarrass myself either.

Well, I hit the first pitch - very first one - and made it all the way around, one base at a time. :) On my next two bats, my hitting ability seemed to have fled. I finally *barely* hit the ball into the fair zone and chugged on to first...phooey, out each time.



Now we know that my son doesn't get his sports talent from me. :D

I can't field either. I tried to place myself into the position where I'd do the least harm. I played third base, and one of the coaches told me to be careful if I didn't have good reaction time. Sheesh. :rolleyes: What do they take me for, a dumpy middle-aged woman? Oh...right, that's what I am. :Bawling:

Fortunately, so is everyone else's mom. :) Gonna be a lot of sore muscles tomorrow.

Guess what? We TIED, 13-13! Whoohoo! Then we all headed to the dairy bar for some ice cream. What a wonderful way to end the season.

 

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They did a similar activity with my daughter's high school volleyball team last summer. The parents participated - It was fun - oh for about 11 minutes.... then I fell and broke my wrist.
 
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