Take me out to the ball game

I'll admit, I've had some pretty good ideas in my short time as a mom. But sometimes I ask myself, "what were you thinking?" and today was one of those times. Why? I'm in charge of planning play group activities for the month and decided we should all go to a minor league baseball game.

Pros: kids under 2 are free (GA seats for adults are only $6); there's a large grassy area on the outfield berm for blankets and running around; there's a playground just off the grass seating; little kids can bring in their own food and drink; it's a day game; parking is free.

Cons: all of our kids are under 18 months, just learning their independence; none of them understand the concept of "stand still"; they don't grasp what it means when the swings are full of other kids; it rained.

These are general things that applied to all of us. But of course, the G-man has to go above and beyond. While some duos in our group finished their day on a high note, I was ready to sneak my child onto one of the gazillions of day care buses in the parking lot and then run away.

Part of it was lack of planning on my end. I've only been to major league games, the kind where strollers are heavily frowned upon so I didn't bring one. Big mistake. After all, I had to lug a gigantic diaper bag with extra clothes, his lunch and snacks and enough sundries to open my own convenience store, plus a bag with blankets stuffed, crammed inside and another blanket/tarp to hopefully serve as a waterproof barrier on the grass. Oh, and the boy. Which frankly, I wasn't really counting on.

G-man likes to walk free. He seems to revel in a stroll. So I thought I'd just have him walk beside me as I did an impression of a pack mule. Before you freak out, I wasn't going to let him wander willy-nilly; I have a baby leash! Hey, don't judge me. It's cute, with a monkey backpack. So I pictured him toddling next to me, but attached to me, so we'd safely and easily reach our destination.

Oh, I am funny.

It so didn't happen that way. As soon as we were out of the car, I popped the monkey on him, plopped him on to the ground so I could get our bags and witnessed the first tantrum of this outing. He threw himself into a puddle at the indignity of being asked to walk himself. It's been 25 seconds, he's already dirty, wants to be picked up and I wore my new white shirt. Another moment of poor planning.

But really, is it so bad for your child to want to be held? Not at all. Of course I picked him up and secretly relished the feeling of him clinging to me, while simultaneously wondering how someone who weighs so little could seem so heavy. Pack mule plus one, we ventured towards the ball park.

I should have been tipped me off that this would literally be no picnic. 

Once in the ballpark, the no-walking rule was lifted as he took off upon being released from my arms like a wind-up spring car. Unfortunately, I was trying to set up our blankets with the other mommies and chasing him certainly slowed me down in making camp.

But does he run for the playground, with swings, a slide and a paid chaperone to help supervise? Hell no. He finds the concrete steps (which he only thinks he can navigate); tries to unplug the inflatable bounce house; goes behind the batting cages; attempts to empty other fans' strollers. Any effort on my part to get him to sit down for just a moment was met with staunch resistance. 

I tried to get him to eat anything, just a freakin' bite!, for lunch but he was too distracted. While our fellow playmates munched on their goodies - one even eating nicely off of a plate; whoa - G-man promptly fed his portion of chick'n to the ants, discovered he could dump his snacks on the ground and stomp them with his feet, emptied his juice box on his shoes, and ran from the cookie I offered like it was poison. They made an announcement about real fruit smoothies and off we dashed to get him one. He took 10 sips, realized the straw came out with smoothie clinging to it and proceeded to try to empty the cup on the ground to play in the mess. I threw it away. Bye-bye $4.

Meanwhile, I'm starving but there is no way I can get some food, much less eat it, without having a place to strap him in to. I need two hands for this day. Hell, I really needed three.

I spent much of my day scooping him up and trying to redirect him, most of it to no avail. I ended up having to carry him away from things, only to have him take off again. With every lift and carry, he got heavier.

At the first sprinkle of rain, I'd had it. All I needed to do was change his diaper and we'd be on our way. He's starting to get really tired, you could tell. The others in our group had a similar 'run for the exit' look on their faces. Mother Nature gazed upon us, saw the desperation creeping in as we set into action to pack, and took pity upon us. Nope, not really! Instead, she sent a downpour. 

We scrambled for shelter, grabbing our items and piling them on anything/anyone we could find. Now I just need to finish packing so we could zoom out as soon as the deluge let up. G-man had other ideas. The rain called to him and he went to it, disappearing several times so that I had to stop what I was doing and take off after him. Oh NOW he wants the playground! Awesome. What should have taken only a few moments was a 15-minute ordeal just to put things back into their bags.

The monkey leash came back out and he acted like a cat - as soon as I put it on him he dropped to the ground and wouldn't move. At least he's in one place.

Damp and muddy, we head for the restroom for a quick diaper change. At last, he's walking nicely beside me with the monkey on. Once inside the family bathroom, I let him hold the leash end while I get his supplies out. He's happy, he likes it, he drops it in the drain. Yuck. Wet monkey leash.

Finally, we are done and walking towards the exit. We go slowly, both tired but both trying to make the most of our outing. I notice the game for what seems like the first time and see that we are behind 3-0 in the eighth. And we're playing a team from Fargo. I didn't even know that.

Will I do it again? Um...maybe. Now that I know what I can bring and what he'll be attracted to, I might try again. Despite not getting his way and having what probably looked like a pretty harried mom all day, I think G-man had fun. And that's the only game that counts.