by Kelli Bowen
You know that mom who has that partially crazy, lost, wild, dead-inside, and probably needs a drink look about her? Hi, that’s me. It’s May. If I get through the next couple weeks without incident, it will be amazing. Correction: another incident.
Last week, my coworker and I were standing by the coffee maker and she asks “Where are the kids this afternoon?” I blink at her because her children, and mine, were at the same place: school. She tries again: “Is your Hubby off this afternoon?” I respond with more blinking and add a head tilt for good measure. “Kelli, it’s early dismissal today.”
I fly to my computer, look in the school website and pull up the calendar: nothing, but in the bottom, there’s a little box…”Elementary Adjusted Calendar.” There read today’s date and “early dismissal 1:30.” I glance at my clock, 1:10 and I am 15 miles away. Oh fudge.
Today is Miss A’s first ever baseball game. They’re playing kids from a rural school district north of us about 20 miles. I want to give her time to warm up so we leave 30 minutes before the game, mainly because it took 15 minutes to effectively communicate “Get in the car NOW” to both my children. Apparently English is only their first language if I am not the one speaking.
We pull into the school with 10 minutes to spare. I think to myself, “Hey, at least we aren’t late.” Then I notice there’s an awful lot of space and no cars in this parking lot. I drive back to the baseball field: nothing. Crap.
I ask Hubby (who has taken Miss A to her practices thus far) who are the other parents on our team. He blinked at me. I call my friend Heather. No answer. I call my friend Nicole. No answer. As I slowly start creating a list of who not to call in a crisis, I decide to go random: I call my coworker who has a similarly aged kid. “Hey…random question does your kiddo play baseball?” Hesitant response, “Yeah…”
After coworker says he thinks the Littles play on a community field in one of the three neighboring towns that make up this district, he’s going to call his cousin and see.
Heather calls! “Hey Heather! Are your kid and my kid in the same team? No? Doesn’t matter. Do you know where we play when we play Rural School?” It’s 6 p.m. now. Game time.
Heather informs me that she thinks there was an email sent with the latest drafts of the game schedule that also had towns…no not that one…oh here it is: you play in North West Fargo. Thanks Heather!
We drive 20 miles a different direction. Tell Miss A to tuck-and-roll. She gets to the dugout, the coach puts a helmet on her so she’s next up to bat. She zings one off the tee. Plays two more innings and the game is over. She’s all smiles. We go to Dairy Queen. The night is salvaged.
Some of us are just hanging on by a thread here people! It is me. I am some people. Reduce judgment. Extend grace. If you need me, I’ll be wandering trying to figure out where the next sportsball game is going to be.
Kelli makes her home in Cass County with her husband, two daughters (10 and 6) and two dogs. She works for a regional seed company by day and tries to be an alright mom, wife, friend and writer by night.
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