Listening to:  Maroon 5 Wait

Currently reading:  LBJ (STILL, I am not going to to bother to write the title) and At my father’s wedding by John Lee

Back in the days when I was a baseball mom, I was an organized baseball mom.  Rather I was a creature comfort baseball mom.  I wasn’t the Team Mom who provided all the snacks and knickknacks, buckets and banners.  I wa a strictly in it for me kind of baseball mom.

I wallowed in this.  I loved watching my kiddos’ baseball games because of the homey conditions of my vantage point.  I came bearing covered wagon.  A wagon filled with blankets, books, snacks, chairs, and drinks.  I was like a traveling gypsy who simply brought her home around with her.

I would pick out a spot on the cement. Grass I couldn’t stand. Grass equaled moisture and wet blankets and dirt.  I would search for any cement spot, usually by the grandstand benches.  Often times there would be this wonderful cement area,  one time much to my delight a push broom was provided.  I swept off all the dirt and leaves, and set up shop.

The blanket came first then was quickly piled with a low sitting lawn chair, another blanket nearby in case I got cold.  The wagon carried cup holders for my drink (hot coffee) and I packed numerous Ziploc bags filled with anything from popcorn to nutrition bars.

I usually had at least one child with me.  This child also required his stuff. Stickers, books, toys, and goldfish crackers.

Upon completion of camp set up, I hunkered into the little home I created.  There I’d be, sipping coffee, writing in my journal, reading books, or munching on chocolate raisins.  A delightful existence.