Put Me In Coach...

Do you smell something? It’s the smell of the fresh cut grass in the outfield. Do you see that? It is the sun beating down on the deep Georgia red clay in the infield. That’s right people it’s little league baseball season in the south! As for you critics, I realize it is baseball season throughout the country, but I am from the south and let’s face it…it’s all about me. I am pumped about this season. Gone are the days of no umpires, no score keeping (at least not officially), no outs, and hitting off the infamous “T”. This is REAL live baseball baby! I am so excited (more than Carter), but that’s ok…he’ll adapt!


Most of my life has been spent on a ball field and in my 36 years I have observed two types of parents. First, you have the “Bleacher Creatures”. They are usually found sitting on the bleachers in a crowd of people. They have never really played sports themselves and know just enough about the game to be dangerous. Bleacher Creatures sit in the stands and criticize the coach, but only loud enough for their “peeps” to hear. When they are not being “creatures” they can be found hanging out at the concession stand having a sampler platter.

Next there are the “Parent Coaches”. I qualify as an expert on these because I have a set! In case it was not obvious, these are the parents that choose to coach their children. They spend countless hours on the practice field not only with the team, but with their kids individually. They dream of their kid being the homerun hitter and the perfect defensive player. They dream of the “perfect” batting order and spend a small fortune on practice gear. These types “coach” their kids from sun up to sun down and sometimes even when they are sleeping. The funny thing is, no matter how much time passes or how old they get…they never quit coaching. It’s in their blood and gives them such a rush!

Last but not least there are “Monster Moms”. These are the type A personality daughters of the above mentioned “Parent Coaches”. I can speak at length on this subject because I am one. Yes, I am a “Monster Mom” and proud of it. I am SUPER competitive. Second place is just another name for 1st loser. Little league, big league, or somewhere in between it does not matter because you are out there to play ball, not have fun! Carter came to me a few days before his first ballgame this year and said “mom, I can’t wait until my first REAL baseball game. I will do my very best, but I know that our team cannot always win. Everybody has to lose some time.” Hugh? Seriously? Yep, my kid said that. I bit the preverbal tongue and mumbled “if you say so”. These kinds of words send chills up a monster mom’s spine. We will spend many hours and many dollars on the “perfect” bat to ensure the “proper hitting” or the “perfect” glove to ensure the “proper play”. We also know the importance of “looking like a ball player”. My motto has always been, you might not know what you are doing, but by George you need to look good doing it! We MM’s take this stuff seriously. We are in it to win it. After all, we have to make our “parent coaches”proud!

Batter up!

- I dedicate this post to my Mom and Pop. Keep on coaching! Love you!

Feeding Time at the Zoo

Don’t pay the ransom, I have escaped! Yes, I am slowly emerging from nine months of barfing, swelling and drastic mood swings. Addison Taylor Reynolds was born February 8, 2010 at 8lbs. 10oz. and 20 ½ inches long. I apologize for not blogging during the pregnancy. Frankly, I did not write because the mood I was in, who knows what I might have said or who I might have offended along the way. It was best that I just kept quiet.

I tried to be proactive and prepare Carter & Kate for a new baby. We talked about how much babies sleep and how we NEVER wake a sleeping baby. I explained that babies do not “play” with toys or eat Goldfish crackers. I was feeling pretty confident with myself until about an hour after Addy was born. I was lying in my hospital bed feeling euphoric over the power I had being able to control my morphine drip when reality stood up and smacked me in the face. The nurse walked in the room with the baby and said “feeding time”. OH SNAP! I didn’t explain breastfeeding. Kate would not have a clue and Carter was too young to remember me nursing Kate. I had to formulate a plan and quick.

I decided to play it cool and let them ask the questions. It went over without a hitch; at least I thought it did. A few days later, after we were home from the hospital, the phone rang and Carter answered. He talked at length to the other person and it was obvious they were asking him about his plans for the day. What came next I could not have scripted myself. Carter said “As soon as my mom finishes milking the baby we are going to have lunch”. MILKING! Seriously? I already felt like Bessie the cow, but now Carter tells people I’m MILKING the baby! The sad thing is I have continuously corrected him and repeated FEEDING; I am FEEDING the baby, but for some reason milking stuck. I can only imagine what he tells the people at school! Oh well, out of the mouths of babes!