No Crying in Baseball

For those that truly know me, you know that I always put Elijah first in my life.  I pride myself on being the kind of parent that I want to be.  I do not strive for greatness, but just to be a good parent for Elijah.  Sacrifices are never easy.  Elijah is fortunate enough to have 2 parents that never ask him to sacrifice much.  If Elijah wants to do something, we try and make it happen.  This is what has led us to play all three sports: baseball, basketball and football.  After all, he’s only going to be a child for so long.  Tonight was a particularly rough night in our household.  We had a wonderful church service, where Jason and I were invited to assist in the youth and it was a blast!  We visited with our church family for an hour afterwards.  After we returned home, we looked at our schedule to plan our Memorial Day weekend.  It was at this time that I decided to write Elijah’s baseball schedule on the calendar, along with our Foster PRIDE classes. Both of these events only last through the month of May, but I had never considered that they would conflict with each other.  I never dreamed that with only one child, our lives would become hectic and someone would have to sacrifice.  After everything was laid out on the calendar, I noticed I would only be able to attend four of Elijah’s games. Four? What?

I shook my head. This can’t be right.

I was right.  With Jason’s work schedule, he could only attend one. I swallowed hard. Something was about to give.  I’m not the kind of parent that drops my child off at the sporting event and meets up with them afterwards to hear all the details. I’m always in the stands, cheering him on. 

The choice was obvious.  Our Foster PRIDE classes are a one-time event that will forever alter our future.  We will be opening our homes to children that have been ripped from theirs.  We will have high hopes of adopting at least two of these children.  Jason and I discussed it in detail before Elijah appeared in the dining room, asking for a drink. I looked at my son.  Five years, he has been a part of this team. Five years, he’s looked forward to baseball. Five years, he has never had to sacrifice this sport, or any sport, for that matter.

I asked Elijah how he would feel about quitting baseball this year, this ONE year. He began with his usual, “what do you mean?” How did you get to this point, mom? When did you think it would become okay to ask me this? His big, brown eyes stared at me in confusion. I brushed over the details quickly, and tried to make baseball seem minor this year, to soften the blow that I wasn’t actually asking him. He took a sip of milk and nodded that he could do that. He put his glass up, kissed my cheek and went back to bed. It can’t be that easy to ask your child to give up something that they had been involved with for so long? I went to Elijah’s bed, crawled into it and hugged him.  I explained in detail what was happening, how I didn’t want to ask him to do this and I sniffled.  The thought of letting down my child broke my heart.

“Don’t be sad, mom. Baseball is always there. It’s no big deal.” He touched the beams of the top bunk above his head. “You only have this one time to get a new kid in this house.  You have to go to those classes.  Besides, there’s no crying in baseball.” He knew there was no other option and I wasn’t going to be an absentee parent.  But I was wondering if I was being selfish, if we were being selfish. We have prayed about this, planned for this, had our heart set on this for so long, talked to Elijah for hours about this but was he truly prepared?

In a word: yes. 

My son handled the news magnificently.  He basically, shrugged and went on. He knew it wasn’t a big deal. In that moment, I realized I was being selfish as a parent. I was more concerned how I felt about my parenting skills then how Elijah actually felt. It’s okay to say no. It’s okay to admit that you have too much on your plate. It’s okay to sit out a season. We are doing what’s in the best interest of our family, and baseball isn’t going anywhere.  Once again, I was reminded that our trials and tribulations do not define us, how we react to them does.  I felt silly as I went to bed.  If facing a baseball disappointment is my only trial today, then I am blessed.  And I am ~ very blessd.  Thank you, God, for all the blessings, and I apologize for not always seeing them.

As of today, for the first time in five seasons, Elijah is no longer a Mud Dog.