You’ve seen them, all the posts and humor about being in the homestretch of school almost letting out.
I wonder if they call it homestretch because a majority of us have children in baseball and softball at this time.
This year I’m finishing up my first full year of being back to work. It happens to be for a school district. Being an adult waiting for summer break is no comparison to when you’re a child. It’s like senior-itis has set in – only you’re an aging woman who has big plans to catch up on laundry and house work that’s been neglected since nightly sports practices started at the beginning of April.
We’re living out of crockpots, concession stands, and fast food joints. Dry shampoo & baseball caps are our saviors and for goodness sake can we all just agree to look away…….the pants are going to get dirty again at the next game.
Our calendars are color coded, our bedtimes are challenged and is tomorrow hat day or beach day? “Just wear both, you’re going to miss the bus!”
I realize the older our kids get the more I’m stretched thin. We’re running on an air tight schedule, and as much as we love sitting watching our kiddos play ball, a rain cancellation wouldn’t be the worst thing. We had one last night and I rocked out 7 loads of laundry that had been sitting in baskets for an embarrassing amount of time.
Embarrassing. Amount. Of. Time.
I love this squad of women I have meshed with over the years. My squad. The friend that sends me a snap of exhaustion with the caption of how much she’s completed since 3pm with a whole night ahead of her.
I tell her I’m proud of her, and I want to write an article about this if I can ever find the time!
She says “we can do this, we’re almost there”
I reply “moms unite”
We haven’t seen each other physically for at least two months because – baseball, dance, music lessons, and whatever else we used to do before May hit: but we’re still encouraging each other to keep plugging along.
Our husbands are still working while we drive to practices. I’m half coherent to the kids screaming in the back of the car, trying to remember what possessed me to become a T-ball coach.
MAY MOM LIFE – IS THE REAL DEAL. It’s the Tour de France, the Super Bowl, the World Series, the month where we should be shimmering like glitter for all the crap were pulling off but in reality we look like we’ve been hit by a semi.
Look away people. Look away. We’re almost to the finish line ladies. ✌🏻