Baseball season has descended upon our family like a circus tent.
Every day this week- all seven, to be exact- we have been at the baseball circus, the greatest show on earth.
In rings one, two, and three, we have practices, games, and scrimmages. High over head balances my sanity, holding a parasol while doing a cartwheel on the wire.
Most nights Mr. Fantastic rolls in the door after work, changes his clothes, grabs a bite to eat, and rushes one or two or three boys out to the fields.
Some nights I pack us all up and we go together, or if two of the boys have baseball at the same time, we divide and conquer.
Tired as we may be, we are resting our souls in the thought that this is a unique time in our lives.
Line drives and laughter, stolen bases and and sandwiches eaten on the run, we are past the season of napping babies and sleepless nights.
These will be the fun years if we can remember to breathe thought them.
Tonight Boy 1 has another game, then tomorrow Boys 2 and 3 have games. I will be flying solo, as Mr. Fantastic will be at a conference.
I plan to enjoy every minute of it, and to hold tightly to the breezy grandstands as I watch my babies grow up right in front of me.
The Lady will hunt for rocks shaped like teeth and play on the playground, and the boys will play wall ball behind the fields. We will explore the creek while the team warms up, and bring books to read and crayons to color with between innings.
If one of my boys gets a home run, I’m going to cheer like there’s no tomorrow. Besides, today is perfectly wonderful and worthy of a loud yell.
I always did love a good circus.