1. Recognizing all local towns by the ball diamonds.
2. Tuesday being the only free night. Occasionally.
3. Arguing with the entire ball team to let "my husband come out to play."
4. Sunday Fun Day.
5. Staying home alone on Friday, Saturday, and/or Sunday night(s) with the kids to put them to bed and sit and wonder if there was an accident involving bleachers and a drunk, maybe he got lost on the way home, OR maybe whether the games were actually 2 hours behind. Because apparently "sometimes they do that." Yeah. And I bet they were only serving root beer and ring pops at the concession stand.
6. Spending enough money to send 2 kids to college on turkey hot dogs, nachos for the millionth time, and enough licorice rope to rot all the teeth out of our mouths.
7. The wonderful 'talks' we have on the drives to and from the games.
8. Sitting under a pavilion while 30 gallons of rain pour down and trying to convince 5 children they cannot soak their entire bodies in the puddles.
9. The sheer joy of being around cussing, scratching, spitting, dead sexy, sweaty men.
10. Carrying 5 sleeping children covered in mud, dirt, sand, nacho cheese, and some sticky material into the house at 11:30 p.m. Saturday night only to wake them all up at 7:00 a.m. Sunday morning (inadequate amount of sleep) and enjoy an hour long mass with not-so-well-behaved angels.
(I could go on and on... )
Don't get me wrong... I enjoy softball games 90% of the time but the other 10% of the time... I have a hard time not packing everyone up and leaving the ball diamond. Forever.
Then there are times like last night where the kids were completely covered head to toe in the stankiest mud you have ever smelled, running around eating ring pops, playing a kids game of softball, and later the kids are getting washed up at the end of the night and Dave is wondering if anyone brought his trophy in...
...and I won't change any of it... Congrats Dave! You do deserve it :)
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