What Not To Wear

Hey Chicago peeps - do you and your kids like theater? A chance to win tickets to The Emperor's New Clothes from the Shakespeare Theater here.

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Last week, I talked about the ummm fun lessons I learned while coaching t-ball. Trust me, they were hilarious. At least in my head. It is possible that I'm going off my rocker after coaching eleven kids in t-ball though.

Anyway, I was going through my camera, and I realized that I had a photo that I was going to share as one of my lessons, but I completely forgot about it. It's still worth sharing though, even on its own.

Just a suggestion. BUT

Don't wear high heels to a t-ball game. Especially not in Chicago where it's been storming for days and the ground is very soft. At a t-ball game, you're likely to have to walk in muddy gravel, muddy grass, just plain mud, or all of the above. Those types of surfaces tend to enjoy swallowing up the pointy ends of heels, either ruining them or making for a not so fun cleaning job since that gravel is like cement.

I am being kind in not showing the face of the person who did this, as it's possible that she's related to me, so just consider this a public service announcement. Heels an t-ball don't mix. (I thought that one was obvious, but evidence shows I was wrong. Very, very wrong.)

T-Ball Coaching: Lessons From The Trenches

Are you a fan of sweet? Like kettle corn perhaps? Go enter here!

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Today was the last day of the t-ball season for the wee ones. This was the first time (and probably the only) time that they played on the same team. One set of games, no conflicts - oh it was lovely.

And did I mention that I coached? Yeah, there's goes that I-can't-say-no bug again. A lot of the reason I coached though was because we had such a poor coach last year. Nothing against him personally, but he had no experience, nor did he have the personality nor interest in t-ball to make it an experience where the kids got something out of it. After complaining, I sort of felt like I had to justify my complaints by getting involved.

And it has been a fun season - the kids all progressed, though obviously some at a much fast rate than others. I won't be sad to see it end completely - the hot and humid days in Chicago are upon us - but I learned a lot from the experience.

Which of course means that I need to share with you, too.

Behold, the Top Ten Things I Learned As A T-Ball Coach:

10) A snack is not optional.
We started out the year with the idea that it's a 45 minute to an hour long game. With maybe twenty minutes of practice beforehand. The kids don't need another junk food snack in their day. The other coach and I were good with that. By the second week, enough complaints were heard that we reluctantly instituted snacks.

9) The biggest challenge is ensuring there are no fistfights on the field.
Fortunately, this wasn't something that involved the adults. Instead, it was like the pee wee hockey or soccer games you see with a swarm of children following wherever the ball goes. Knowing my wee ones, I instituted a system for them that quickly spread to the whole team and seemed to work well.

As we got out onto the field, I drew a large circle with my heel approximating where each child was to stand. It was the circle "where they lived" while on the field, and they adored it. As we went out, they started to ask me to draw their circles. And some added to them, making them more square than circle or drawing an initial inside.

Once the kids were properly positioned, they were admonished that they were only allowed to leave their home and enter the burning lava where the ball was if if called their names. Thus "Peter's ball" was actually respected. Most of the time. Go fig.

8) Figuring out how to teach five and six year olds the "ready position" is pretty hopeless.
The other coach started out the season by calling that position "down and dirty." While good in concept - your glove is down where it can get dirty - it unfortunately was too open to interpretation.

Some kids sat down and got dirty. Some kids placed dirt in their gloves and tossed it. Some kids squatted all the way down. Some kids hunched their backs, resulting in eyes focused on the dirt and not the play - something that freaks me out, having seen more than one player injured in the past by not paying attention.

Over the course of the season, we tried one gambit after the other, but I'm pretty sure the video evidence will show that we never once managed to have all the kids in the ready position prior to a play at the same time. We were lucky if they all had their gloves on their hands.

7) Just about any child can hit a coach-pitch ball... once.
Midway through the season, our league switches from true t-ball to a coach pitch game, whereby each player get "four" pitches from the coach to hit the ball before resorting to the tee. By moving kids around, adjusting bat positions, etc., we achieved most kids hitting from the pitched ball within a couple weeks - with exceptions here and there throughout the games. Sometimes it isn't the kid that needs to adapt; it's the coaches.

6) Although the coach meeting prior to the season and the rules of the game state that kids are to given only four coach pitched balls before moving back to the tee, this didn't often happen in reality.
Our team was one of the very few that would bring out the tee after the fourth missed ball to ensure the game moved along and that no child was embarrassed after five minutes of swinging and missing. Really, after Suzy has missed the ball by a mile four times in a row, another four balls isn't magically going to turn her into Sammy Sosa.

5) Getting hit in the face with a ball isn't conducive to improving your skills.
Poor Mister Man. At a game I couldn't attend because I was on my way from work (don't ask), another father was helping to warm up the kids before the game by playing catch. He unfortunately threw a ball when Mister Man wasn't looking, and it hit him in the face. I did make it to the game in time to see him foul off a ball into his face (though luckily, I talked him into continuing to bat, and he got a hit the next pitch - phew!). Ever since that point, he's been afriaid of the ball and looks away when it comes close enough to catch. We're still working on breaking him of that habit, but unfortunately, his skills both in the field and at the plate have taken a nosedive since then.

Note to self: Always make sure a kid is looking and acknowledges you before throwing a ball. I can't handle the pressure of ruining another kid's game!

4) Don't serve snacks until after the post-game meeting.
After each game, we would always gather up to talk about who did what things really well during the game. Each kid loved puffing up with pride as we talked about great throws or hustle or hitting, etc. But once a parent opened up the snack bin immediately following the game? Yeah, we lost them. They're working on their sugar highs and anything we may have to say to them takes a backseat. We haven't had a good meeting since.

3) The game ball is a great motivator.
Another purpose of the post game meeting is to hand out the game ball, which kids treasure far more than I imagined they would (our coach last year didn't hand out game balls, so I can only assume that he kept the extra twenty-four balls he was provided - ahem). Every week, kids would ask if they were getting the game ball and what they needed to do to earn it. While we were sure that each kid got the game ball an equal number of times, we weren't shy in reminding them that things like not saying mean things to players on the other team (in the instances where they needed to use the tee) or ensuring they kept their gloves on their hands and the like were prerequisites for earning a game ball.

Now that I think about it, maybe we should have made down and dirty a motivator. Oops, too late.

2) Grandparents are an integral part of the t-ball experience.
Inevitably, one of the wee ones comes to me while at a game. Moooommmmmmy, I have to go potty! So what do I do? I simply point the offending wee one (who did go before we left the house, btw) at the nearest grandparent and send them to the gross, nasty Port-a-Potty. Ahhhh, crisis averted.

And the number one thing I learned while coaching t-ball?

1) Don't assume kids know any of the rules of baseball.
At the beginning of the year, some of our practices consisted of running the bases and teaching the kids where each base was and where to run. It was, sadly, a necessary lesson - for my wee ones, too. (Hey dads, go watch more baseball with your little kids!) Throughout the season, we rotated where kids played in the field with each inning. We would tell Joey to go to second base and lead him to it. We would tell Ricky that he was playing pitcher and lead him to it.

At today's last game? Mikey, you're playing third base. Ummm Coach, where's third base? Oh vey.

So what have you learned from your sports experiences?

Another One Bites The Dust

We're getting down to the finals days for a couple of these. If you've been thinking about entering, go do it now - a week of summer day camp for ages 5-12 here, a fun Shrek-tacular prize pack here, or a $25 Wal-Mart gift card here.

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Today, I went to the wee ones' t-ball game. It was hot. I really, really didn't want to put on socks and sneakers, even though I knew I should if I was going to be out on the field coaching (ummm yeah, sucker me is also the t-ball coach).

Nope, I instead chose to wear my favorite pair of oh so comfy summer mules that I wear almost daily - alternating with a couple other similar styles. Granted, they've been due for an update in terms of fashion and wear, but I wasn't quite ready to go shoe shopping yet (and ummm yeah, I know it's odd, but I hate shopping for shoes and have probably fewer pairs than my husband does).

On the field of play, I did my usual - drawing of circles for the children in the field to show them "where you live" while playing each position, helping each child get a batting helmet on and ensuring they are all correctly positioned in the batter's box.

All was well, and I was very contentedly looking forward to my post game freezer pop. I changed Mister Man out of his cleats and back into his gym shoes. As I stood up and began walking over to his equipment bag (I use this term loosely, but bear with me), I noticed that walking was a challenge.

For some reason, my right shoe was making it really hard for me to walk. I kept going and finally realized something was wrong - maybe a stick stuck in my shoe?

No. No, it couldn't be that simple. Somewhere in my overuse and misuse of my shoe, I managed to pull apart the leather upper.

R.I.P. my dear mule.

My $1 flip flops from Target that have been my shower shoes at the gym for the past year and a half fortunately stepped up and managed to get me home, but they are not the long term solution.

Anyone want to go shoe shopping with me?

Wanted!

We're in week three of t-ball. That means I've done uniform laundry twice so far. Twice. Mister Man's team is the Mets, as in the Bingham Mets of minor league fame.

And they're apparently orange. His shirt is orange. And his socks are orange.

Orange is kind of a hard color to miss -- at least in my house. And those socks are big. They literally go up to mid-thigh on him. Plus, they're really thick, wool socks, apparently because we start playing in the middle of winter around here (mid-April).

So can someone please explain why this weekend I was only able to find one hideously orange sock?



Seriously, where can the other one be? I had no idea that the laundry gnomes were this ... lacking in taste.

The worst part? What store possibly sells bright orange t-ball socks? Do you think anyone will notice if I pull the t-ball pants all the way down to his ankles next weekend?

Play Ball!

I’ve learned quite a bit about t-ball in the past couple of days, and even my childless friend who was visiting this weekend and got stuck chasing the wee ones’ schedules today claims to have enjoyed it.



First, if there are opening day ceremonies, find out from experience parents whether or not this is truly a worthwhile event. Our opening ceremonies consisted of a parade, $1 burgers and custards from Culver’s, moon walks and more. Or so they claimed.

Really, we stood by the south entrance of the football stadium for a really long time trying with all our might to ensure that our children didn’t scale the locked fence. We made sure that no child disappeared. We searched for additional teammates. And twenty minutes after our parade was to have started – add in fifteen minutes planned prep time and you have squirrely five and six year olds confined in a small space for over a half hour, ha! – we began our parade.

The parade consisted of everyone, including parents and kids, walking about a half mile to the baseball fields. Then we stood with the other four members of our team amidst other teams while various officials gave twenty-three minutes of speeches. And yes, I kept track.



Fortunately, Mister Man wasn’t bored. He did sand angels with his legs – as did his teammates – until I caught him. He then picked up sand and poured it over his head and onto his shirt. Then he made roads in the sand. When I finally gave up and moved him four feet onto the grass so he could no longer reach the sand, he made like a billy goat and pulled up the grass.

I then had a conversation with him about how playing with sand and grass during a game was not going to be ok. And I mentally planned in some time for a shower later in the day.

The ceremonies finally ended, and the 400 kids were released to go have fun on the moon walks. Yep, both of them. One was a ten foot high slide and the other a moonwalk. And the bigger Little League kids of course came over after awhile and spent most of their time either sitting at the top of the slide blocking everyone from going down or kicking and shoving kids down. If they were knocked down, they bounced on kids at the bottom and them climbed back up the wrong way, stepping on kids on the way up. Yep, I've got a letter to write to the league about suggested either disuse of the moonwalks in the future or potentially some authority monitoring the moonwalks.

And the line for the Culver's food? Yeah, we didn't even try that one. Even after hanging out for over an hour, the lines were twenty people deep. We're just not that patient!

That was at 11am. At 5pm, we had our game. You can imagine how much wound up and exhausted all those five and six year olds were by yesterday evening. Our coach is also new to t-ball, so in our single practice on Thursday, we didn't exactly discuss how a game works or what is expected of t-ball.

Fortunately, parents are allowed on the field in t-ball, so my husband helped Mister Man out at "shortstop." He tried giving him all the hints, from the ready position to what to do if there is a man on first and second and the ball comes to him. Forget the fact that there are no outs in t-ball and the ball is supposed to always just be thrown to first. Mister Man appreciated the advice, however....



After the practice on Thursday, I realized Mister Man needed some remedial t-ball skills. I taught him how to stand and swing, and it really made a huge difference. He's a rules based kid, so drawing two lines on the driveway where his feet belonged made a huge difference -- compared to the "stand here, step forward, swing with your hips" that was being coached. Too amorphous for my boy!

It made a huge difference, and he actually was hitting the ball instead of the tee and hitting it well.



The last batter each inning hits a "home run," and Mister Man was that batter in the second inning. He was so thrilled as he rounded the bases!



Today, we were supposed to have another game. In fact, we should be there this second. Unfortunately, the rains have returned, so we were called off. I think one game this weekend was enough though. Both wee ones went up for naps before one, and I haven't heard a peep for either!



PS I promise the next post won't be about t-ball!

Take Me Out To The Ballgame!

Spring has finally arrived. I knew this partly because I wanted to go sit on my deck in the sunshine to work this afternoon and partly because we finally had our first t-ball practice.

Opening Day happens to be Saturday, but that's what happens in Chicago. Our first pratice was snowed/colded out. Our second practice was rained/colded out. And Tuesday? Yep, more rain and cold.

Tonight... Mister Man was introduced to t-ball. While they aren't yet best friends (my husband is currently at Play It Again Sports hunting for a tee among other accoutrements), they seemed to do ok for a first meeting.

He wasn't the kid who got hit in the face by a batted ball and started crying (yes, that happened). He actually knew where first base was. He eagerly charged every ball.

The rest of it though? Well, we might need to practice a bit. This is our first organized sport, so I know it will take awhile. He did hit the ball though (and I'm doing my darndest to make him a lefty!), and he had fun doing it.







At the end of practice, we received our shirts, hats and socks. Mister Man was thrilled that his cap and shirt had his name. But best of all? He loved the idea of being number four!

I asked him to model his new uniform, but he was too tired by the time we got home. This big boy was still at practice when bedtime rolled around, and he's smart enough to know to go to bed when he's tired.



So can anyone guess what team we are?

Anyone?

*crickets*

Yep, we're the Mets! Ok, if you can figure that one out, let me know. I'm completely confused.

Happy Spring!

Welcome, Spring!

Today is Palm Sunday. Next week is Easter, and in preparation for this, my church had its opening outside church where a donkey was to meet us and escort us inside for the processional.

Except that it was so cold that half the parishioners refused to go outside. And the donkey never showed. But it was still a neat idea.

Today was also Mister Man's first t-ball practice.

What, you say he has a broken arm? You say he can't play because he's in a cast? Well, yeah... I know. But I sorta forgot that he had a broken arm when I signed him up. I blame too little sleep.

I've thought about it though. Technically, he can still throw the ball, and he can learn the rules and hang out with his teammates before he's fully cleared to play. He won't be able to bat, I don't think, but that's only for a few weeks. And with laid back t-ball, I can help him practice in the field by handing him the ball when it comes his way so he can throw it in.

I've also found out that they pretty much stack the infield so there's got to be another kid nearby who can help out during games. And come April 14, his cast comes off and he's allowed to play a week or two after that. No big deal.

Today was the big day though when he was to have his first practice. I was all set for it, including having my camera with me so that I can take pictures of him on that first day. We knew that one of his buddies from preschool last year was going to be on the team, as was a buddy from school this year. That makes it even more fun.

My husband decided that being the man in the house, he wanted to take Mister Man to the practice since his baseball game had been canceled due to concerns over sleet and snow in the forecast -- and the fact that the fields they play one were still wet from rain earlier in the week.

Nothing against my husband, but I'm definitely going. So we all packed up, including Little Miss who really needed a nap, and we headed out.

Did I mention the weather forecast? You know, the sleet and one to three inches of snow tonight, with an additional one to three inches tomorrow expected? And the gusty winds? And the 36 degrees?

Mister Man's practice was -- fortunately -- canceled. Instead, we were to meet at a local pizza parlor and get to know each other and let the coach know shirt sizes since apparently the shirts get names on the backs and hats get names embroidered in them. Fancy!

We arrived at the pizza place, and it was apparent that the restaurant was closed. Ugh. There was one car in the parking lot that looked like it was changing a tire. We pulled into the parking lot anyway, hoping that I could get ahold of the coach and find out plan B. Luckily, the car that was getting a tire changed was the coach, and they just had the bat case sitting out by the rear of the car and a batting helmet on the front hood so we'd recognize it as part of the t-ball team. Obviously that didn't work so well for me.

Plan B was heading to the local Pizza Hut where we ummm ate at the buffet (I can't really say enjoyed, can I?). Mister Man was thrilled to see his buddies and was almost too excited to eat anything. We got the rules, and we also found out some more good news -- for us anyway.

The coach is out of town for Easter next week. When we're supposed to have our next practice. We likely won't practice until the 16th or later, which means Mister Man will have his cast off. Rockin'!

You've really got to hate it when you try to put together a submission for Mother Of The Year and fate conspires against you so that your entry become almost meaningless, eh?