I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would no longer be a Baseball Mom. It was my title since Kyle was in 3rd grade. To be honest Kyle played because all of his friends did, yet Connor played because he adored the game. Kyle was obsessed with anything that had a motor and wheels, while Connor’s obsession was sports. Baseball, Football and Skiing (as fast as he could go.)

They have always been 2 vastly different children, raised in the same house, by the same parents. It didn’t mean I loved them any differently or one more than the other, just that they were very different from each other. Yet they shared some things, the same temper, a love of animals, lack of patience and a shared love of picking on their mom.

Baseball Moms are a special breed. We spend our time finding gloves, and uniforms, getting water, Gatorade and snacks for games. Getting our kids to games and practices on time, even they are playing at far-flung fields that require GPS directions. We often have a houseful of teammates to feed and entertain.

In my case I was the “Team Mom”, I sat with the scorebook in my lap and a “Mary Poppins” bag of goodies at my feet. The bag contained extra pencils, snacks, an umbrella, sunscreen and bug spray. I kept score and kept the kids in line, keeping them all in the dugout and batting in order.

I always thought that I would be so glad when Connor went to Middle School and this part of my Baseball Mom life was over. But when it ended I seemed lost, I had done it for so long, it seemed odd to just sit and watch a game without having to keep track of everything and everyone.

It was the first step in learning to let go, I never expected to have to let go in this way. No parent ever does. I have learned that the unexpected is the wave that we all surf. It just so happens that my waves are hurricane force.