Contributed by: Beth Schwartz on 7/6/2008
You know? I love being a mom, but all of those wonderful activities with your children you fantasize about so lovingly happening before you actually have children, never seem to go the way they were dreamed.
At least with my kids! Take my son's baseball game the other day. A perfect example:
It's a beautiful summer evening as we arrive at the baseball field for my 8 year old's game, teenage daughter and middle son in tow along with the excited player himself.
The kids excitedly take off for the field while I lock up the car and when I turn the corner, I see my 11 year old laying helplessly on the sidewalk writhing in pain and crying. He had taken a major digger and was bleeding from the elbow, side and knee.
Now you have to know that I have been really excited the past few years because I have been reaching some mile stones in the parenting world; no more car seats, sippy cup and bottles, being able to NOT get in the pool anymore with the kids.. (a big one), and of course not having to lug a baby seat, stroller and diaper bag full of drinks, snacks, toys (scotch tape is a good toy for some reason) and of course the first aid kit and bandaids!
So I help him up and have to use my.. ugh shirt to wipe of the dirt, blood and tears the best I can. A nice mom, who apparently still has smaller children and is thus still very well equipped, takes pity on me and lends me a couple bandaids.
Ah, trauma over, not so bad.
My younger son has a great game!!!!!!! He made 3 outs, was hitting 3 for 3 and had a few RBI's and I think to myself, "Yeah. Now THIS is what I have always dreamed" which, in hindsight , really means now something really bad is about to happen..
He is at short stop, pop fly! I know he can catch it! He has practiced so hard!
I see the ball flying through the air and it is coming right for him! In a spit second I glance at him and there he is, mit up, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, eyes on the ball when .... I lose sight of the ball in the sun.
Apparently he did too and it finds its way down, a direct hit to his nose. Play stops for a second while the third base coach from the other team sees if he is ok. I see my son nodding his head , "shaking it off.. manning up" and within a flash, play resumes, but my eyes never leave him.
His left hand is in his glove, held up for the ready, but his right hand is still covering his nose.. Hard to see if it is bleeding. I scan the feild, all players and coaches (except the third base coach) have totally moved on to the next batter and the game.
I scan the onlookers, parents watching, for their son's next great play, my 11 year old still holding his elbow in his hand, trying to hold back tears for an arm he is sure is broken, daughter oblivious to the world with her phone in hand texting her fan club and smiling in her own little universe.
No one but me (and the third base coach) thinking it is not right that he won't take his hand away. I see his little eyes dart to me with the look of "HELP"!! So I ask him to take his hand away.
He does and a Mt. St Helens eruption of gushing blood starts making its way down his face and onto his shirt and cleats below. Immediately he puts his hand back to his nose andI can see it starting to flow through his fingers!
And again, I look the the players , coaches and parents. Nothing. Finally the third base coach , looking a little peeked perhaps at the sight of blood, again asks him if he is ok and he too starts looking to stop play.
Finally I decide i have to do the unthinkable (at least in the mind of a child) and go out on the field to pull him out. The second my son sees mom walking onto the field he takes off, running away from the ONE person who just seconds before he had been screaming silently to help him with his huge brown eyes!
When I finally catch him, I realize how unpreparedI am and again, have to use my shirt to try and block the flow of blood coming from his now gushing nostril.
Thankfully the game ended there after and as we walked back to the car I could just imagine what we looked like.
The 4 of us, walking in slow motion away from a "battle". One with his bat slung over his shoulder and a piece of toilet paper wedged and protruding from his nose, one with his head down, cradling his damaged elbow in his good arm, me covered in blood and dirt looking like I just shot a spot in "Die Hard 5 - Nightmare at the Ball Park", and my daughter, trailing behind, phone still in her hand with fingers busily pressing keys, totaly unaware that she is even on the planet.
The nice mom who offered up the bandaids earlier said , "Boy, this just wasn't your night" with a polite smile and I thought to myself... "Ya, but it makes my life.. mine and I wouldn't give it up for the world".
I'm glad life doesn't always go on like you dream ...