We quit T-Ball in the spring. My delightful child was miserable, my husband was absolutely right that we were spending our time poorly, and I was devastated because it hurts to quit a thing you’ve invested time and money into. I wrote about it here.
Imagine my surprise when I signed our child up for the fall league a few weeks ago.
Leo said he was older now, and would listen better.
Please note: I am a sucker for peer pressure; don’t be surprised when I land in jail for being someone’s drug mule— I can’t turn down a friend’s request. It’s a life-long issue that I suppose I should get help for. So when a dad from the preschool crew asked about joining up, we gently deferred to our previous poor experience. He persisted. And then over half my mom-friend group signed their kids up for the league. So yours truly caved like an igloo in Panama.
We all emailed the league, indicating our kids were friends and would like to be on the same team. So our 5 kids are now enrolled in the quintessential childhood sport. Again.
We’re older, and will listen better.
My husband and I have a renewed faith in the game courtesy of a different and clearly more dedicated coaching staff. They’re all volunteers, so bless them for their work, but a little communication and forethought go a long way in the little leagues. And the biggest benefit this time around is the knowingness of what’s to come, because experience works like that. Plus we’ve got community, friends who also know what it is like to emotionally wrestle a child into a good enough mood to play ball. We’re all in it together, and that feels positive.
That’s been the glue of making new friends here: the discovery of how common our successes and failures are. It’s comforting having a shared narrative, individual but alike. Maybe that’s what group therapy is like— and maybe that’s why having intentional friendships and hang outs feels a lot like having a breakthrough at a therapy session. It’s an absolute delight having people I can send a goofy picture of my kid to, knowing there will be shared joy. And I’ll show up for all the birthday parties, because it feels good to be seen and celebrated.
Which is probably why I keep trying T-Ball for the kid— I want him to feel seen and celebrated. That and I want him to develop social skills, a talent I’m still working on.
The best thing that came out of practice this weekend, outside of seeing our child smile with pride when he nailed a pitch at a target on the fence, was shooting the breeze with a couple of moms who were willing to joke about the possibility of making purple meth with edible glitter— inspired by Dimetapp and unicorn poop. Who knows how we got there in our conversation, but there we were, planning our next big moves in the dark underbelly of the suburbs. I’d source the glitter, naturally.
Appropriate social skills may be overrated.
We’re all just playing ball.
I think it’s worth swinging for the fences.