After a hurried kiss to my girls, E and I left for the ball field last night. He was adorned in his blindingly white baseball pants, his cherry red team shirt that falls to his knees, and his too big ball cap that pushes his ears out just so. In this mother's eyes, he was too stinking cute for words. (Of course, I am biased, but I will try to attach photos later so you can judge for yourself!) On the way to the game, we chatted about the oh so important things in life like, how worms eat, and where the mcnugget part of a chicken is located. Deep stuff for a four year old. Clearly, E's mind was on the game.
When we arrived at the field, I opened my newly clean van (see my last post) and the little man jumped out. It was 6:15 and his game was set to start at 6:30. Plenty of time, I figured, until I asked E the following question.
"Bud. Where's your mitt?"
He didn't immediately answer, he just looked around the ground at the gravel parking lot as if the mitt would magically appear there. "Mom," he started, "I think it's on the front porch." And then big, fat, slow tears made tracks down that stinking cute face. I'll be honest. I was mad! So mad! Before we had left the house, we had already spent 10 minutes searching for the said glove, and then after finally finding it . . . he forgot it?!? EEEKKKKKK! I wanted to just scream, but instead, somehow, I held my composure. I realized that it wouldn't help the situation by losing it, so I just loaded E right back up into the van to head home.
"Let's go E!" I said with a cheeriness that I didn't feel. "We'll just run right back to the house, grab your glove, and be back. No prob!" I smiled. E's tense little body instantly relaxed and off we went.
So, after driving home, retrieving the glove, and driving back to the baseball park, it was now closer to 6:40. I knew that E's game started at 6:30, but when he asked in a nervous voice, "Am I late mom? Coach will be soooo mad!" I answered quickly.
"Nope! Let's go!" (Yes, I lied. But it was necessary to avoid a meltdown, therefore, it doesn't count. Kind of like when your mom asks, "Do I look fat in this?" The automatic answer every time should be, "No! Of course not!")
With that, I hurried E to the field. I know that I was moving fast, because a few times, he actually remarked, "Mom! Slow down!" but I didn't want him to be even later than he already was. Remember, E is my rule follower, so the thought of letting down his coach by being late would send him into a panic. Once at the field, I stopped dragging the poor kid by the arm, and I glanced around. There were no other little kiddies in cherry red anywhere. Only orange and turquoise hats bobbed around the diamond.
"Hmmmm. Where are they?" I thought. I couldn't say this out loud, because E was still in the dark about his situation.
"Let's go check the other 3 fields, bud. Maybe mom wrote down the wrong one," I rationalized. E seemed to be ok with my explanation and he trotted amiably next to me as we went from field to field. We saw black uniforms, navy uniforms, and yellow uniforms. We saw white uniforms and green uniforms but no red uniforms. I was busted.
"Mom?" E questioned in a tiny voice. "Where is my team?"
I knew what had happened, but there was no part of me that wanted to explain it to my cute, game-ready, baseball-loving little boy. I knelt down to look him in the eye under his ball cap.
"E. I think Mommy made a mistake with the time of your game. I think that we may have missed it." I paused and waited for his reaction.
He didn't lose it right away. "So, I don't have a game?" he clarified.
"No. You did have a game, but Mommy got the time wrong, so it already happened without you."
He looked away from me to the big kid ball field, and when his gaze returned, his eyes were brimming full with tears. And then, bless his little heart, he said through his tears, "It's ok mom. Mrs. Pitzer says everyone makes mistakes."
At that point, you could have just run me over with your car and dragged me from the back bumper, because there is no way that I could have felt any worse.
"I'm sorry little guy, " I replied as we walked back to the car.
E was quiet.
On the ride home, I called hubby to share my misadventure in motherhood. I think he felt badly for E, but he also felt badly for me too, because he tracked down the coach's number and gave him a call. When he called me back, he filled me in.
"Hon. . . I talked to Coach Jones," he paused. "There was no game tonight."
"What?????" I shrieked.
"Yep. No game. You went down there for nothing."
And then it dawned on me. I had hired a babysitter for the girls, searched for and found a missing glove, drove to the ball park twice, and walked around the park hunting for red uniforms. My son had cried not once, but twice, and I felt like the worst mom on the face of the planet all for nothing. There was no game. I had the wrong date completely.
So, my sanity was tossed about yesterday. It's a bit battered and bruised today.
But, it is feeling much better after the ice cream that E and I shared on the way home.
I love ice cream.
It can fix almost anything.