Baseball season, it is my busiest time of year. Both of my boys play baseball so there is a lot of running from practice to practice, game to game, and some traveling to tournaments on the weekends just for good measure. I scrub jerseys, to free the knees from the grass stains and red dirt that mark a well-played game. We hunt for the elusive “cups” that somehow seem to leave the sliding shorts and get lost as soon as we are home from a practice or game. Shoot, who needs dryer eating socks; I have a house that eats athletic supporters.
Baseball also means the end of the school year is fast approaching. We have 5 more weeks left here in our little school district. Where did this school year go? I swear I just packed their backpacks with all the shiny new school supplies that were so painstakingly picked out. Their fresh shoes that we spent hours picking out just the right pair…have been discarded as too small and too worn out. Jeans are starting to get the high in the ankle look. The school year is ending and their jeans are a testament to how much they have grown.
Five weeks left in the school year puts us just about the time to start planting the garden. I had been planning to do some raised beds this year. I just like the look of them for my small town backyard garden. However, I have been a compost queen and I spent some time outside turning my dirt and noticing how wonderfully dark and rich it has become. I may just have to sow directly into the ground. So many decisions, Spring, or as we refer to it as Baseball Season, has so much work to do. So many things to get done. How is someone supposed to live simple? Well simple does not always meaning not busy does it? I have certainly come to that conclusion. It is the simple thought that I am practicing this seasons. Spend time with my family and plant a garden. In the moments I want to feel overwhelmed with it all, I am just reminding myself that these are the times that matter. My children love to eat from a garden and they will grow up to remember the garden we planted year after year. They will, hopefully, look back on the memories of baseball and the friendships gained on the field with awesome nostalgia. Actually, to think of it, my oldest is in 7th grade, I am still friends with the people I was friends with in 7th grade. So, as the kids grow and look back, may they all laugh about the summer before 8th grade while they sit around a campfire when they are 30. I hope their kids are playing baseball in a backyard somewhere while they are at it.
Now, I just have to remember to breathe slow, deep, breaths and laugh and I will make it through just fine. A glass of wine probably won’t hurt either.