Another Season of Progress

 

I am down on my knees under the bleachers, retrieving Sam's baseball cap that Eva has thrown up and behind us, and the knee of my pants sinks into the wet mud and stains. It is not the first thing Eva has thrown in this general direction this season, and most tee ball nights she and I move circles around each other as she climbs and grabs and runs and teases and tests the boundaries of what she can get away with. I surrendered the battle over her having to wear shoes a long time ago, and tonight she's been playing with my car key like a little switchblade during the entire game, popping the key in and out and laughing. I gave her Sam's cap in hopes of getting the keys back before the end of Sammy's game.

A few weeks ago I had left Eva with a friend while Sam's blue team played a late game in the hot sun and I actually got to watch Sam nervously wait to be lined up at bat and run the bases like he was ice skating. I saw him walk slowly out to the infield and listened to him complain that he never ever ever got to touch the ball. I handed him his water and gave him 30 second pep talks during breaks, and I took pictures and cheered while he played. I commented to the parents in the stands that tee ball was a completely different experience when I wasn't wrestling a 2-year-old. Espn's dad, a father of 5 whose wife used to sit on a blanket next to the field with an army of small children while her oldest was just starting tee ball, said to me, "You realize who you're complaining to, don't you?" And I laughed.

My friend Tammy, who juggles 4 children and a full time job as an amazing photographer, recently posted a link to another mother's essay about what it means when people say "I don't know how you do it." The essay was about how no matter how many children you have and how long you're at it, you're maxed out. When I see other mothers juggling 3 or 4 or 5 children and I feel overwhelmed with exhaustion just managing my two, I wonder what I’m doing wrong, why this little girl who constantly challenges me emotionally and physically is winning the battle for control of our household and the keys to my sanity.

After I dust the grass and mud off my pants leg, I hand the cap back to Eva and I go to sit among friends on the bleachers. Eva puts the cap back on her head and goes to stand by the fence and jiggles my keys and I sigh as Sam and his team line up for the freezie pops that celebrate the end of another season of progress.