A Royal Pain

In honor of the Royal wedding that took place this morning across the pond, I give you 'A Royal Pain'....

I was flipping through some pictures the other day and came across one that brought back memories. Memories of sanity, even if I didn’t think so at the time. Memories of symmetry, where we played man-on-kid action with a 1:1 parent-child ratio. I can’t find the electronic copy of it and my scanner isn’t hooked up so I can’t show you but picture it -Sicily, 1924 {oh wait, that’s Sophia’s line on Golden Girls – oops!}. Rewind……picture it – Greer, 2008. I am the mother of two {2} {dos} fine, young men. We are enjoying a day in the sun at Century Park, taking in a t-ball game of d1. We, as in me and d2, since D1 is coaching. In this picture, I see my two-year-old d2 sitting so nicely on the bleachers, slowly eating his Teddy Grahams. I recall the sweet sound of him cheering his ‘bubby’ on. Oh, the memories.**

Let’s fast forward three short years. We’re at Century Park again, it’s still sunny, d1 is playing ball again and I still have a two-year-old {ok, a different one, obviously} but that’s the end of the parallel. That’s where the similarities stop. This is every Thursday night but, since last night’s recollections are still so dreadfully fresh in my mind, I’ll recount the ‘fun.’ I sat our lawn chairs next to the dugout in a way to barricade d3 in {which, P.S., he doesn’t find nearly as awesome as I would like him to} before heading to the adjacent park to burn off some energy prior to game time. When we came back to our sectioned-off seats, we watched the first pitch take place and then the cooler of chow was introduced. Most people bring a pack of crackers, maybe a bag of grapes for their toddler to snack on. I bring a buffet. No, really. Last night’s spread consisted of sandwiches, Goldfish, banana cookies, Ritz crackers, raisins, Twizzlers, chocolate eggs, applesauce, juice and water. Keep in mind that this is not an MLB game lasting 3 hours. We have a time limit of an hour-fifteen and yet he still blew through it all. And since he exceeded my expectations on his consumption, I pulled out my last resort – a sucker. No, I’m not against suckers but he just turned two and hasn’t had one yet. That helped hold his attention for a few additional minutes and I have made a mental note to bring multiple flavors next week…..and to buy extra-strength kiddy toothpaste before then.

After the grub is gone, I pulled out some toys from my bag of tricks. I even handed over my beloved iPhone and d2’s GameBoy {unbeknownst to him} for him to do whatever he wanted. Sadly, by the end of the 2nd inning, d3 was done with all of the above. I realized that we either needed to walk around or our fellow spectators would be treated to a full-fledged meltdown. But there’s this thing about d3. He’s an over achiever. In the words of Forrest Gump, if he {d3, not Forrest} is ever going somewhere, he is runNING. And he is fast. For a Shorty McBee with a St. Nick belly {from all the nutritional manna his mother provides}, he sure can disappear in the blink of an eye. I’ve already played the role of ‘Frantic Mother Searches For Lost Child’ last season in the same park and I really wasn’t interested in letting history repeat itself so I cannot, for one minute, lose sight of him. For the most part, I was triumphant. I mean, he did escape a few times but was quickly found. The first time he broke away, I found him trying to climb a very steep set of stairs. The second time, he was trying to enter the door of the concession stand. And the third {and fourth} time…..well, let’s just say he was only trying to be a part of the team. Just not our team. See below.



Thanks to BAC for the picture. It’s a sweet picture of her oldest boy, W, after wards where he was awarded the game ball for exceptional effort. Way to go, W! So, admire the picture and then follow the fuchsia arrows. Up top, you will see d3. A little down and to the left, you will see a box of chips. Where is Mommy? Oh, you won’t see me in the picture. But if we zoomed in enough, you would see that ornery little grin. Yes, he’s looking right at me and, if he could clearly speak, I believe he would be saying, ‘Come get me, Mommy. Here I am. But you won’t be able to catch me. Na-na na-na boo boo!’ And the significance of the chips? Well, on more than one occasion {the third and fourth times noted above}, I was removing his hand from that chip box. Or rather placing the chips back in the box. Our field was on the right side of this picture. The left side was another team and another team’s snack box. I was trying to pack up our chairs so that the next group of spectators could come in but every time I turned around, he was right back in the box. The nice team mom in charge of the beloved box of goodies eventually just told us that he could have one {after all, he had managed to get one bag open and she probably didn't want his leftovers} but I politely declined. I have my pride. Oh, who am I kidding. I should have just thanked her and went on....

Since we have many a Thursday nights ahead this season, I am re-evaluating my options. I’ve got a few things up my sleeve starting with the kiddie harness. Yes, I’m sure he will just love that. I'll take suggestions. Clearly this third child wants to keep me on my toes. Keep in mind that my goal is to please him AND watch my boy play ball. If I’m not watching the game, at least out of one eye, I might as well be in the comfort of my filthy home. I realize my expectations are a litle high for his age. I've already identified myself with that truth so let's not beat it to death. I am determined to make it work and pray that next year it gets easier. What can I bring, aside from a pony ride or a life-size Gobstopper, that will amuse him for an hour?

And I thought last year was bad.....pfft.


**{Confession - I do vaguely recall an incident following that picture-perfect photo when d2 flipped off the bleachers backwards. However, I prefer to revel in my fantasy world for a few minutes before I revert back to reality so, if you don’t mind….}