Wishing the Tough Calls were Left to the Umps

Life can be painful. High heels. Paper cuts. Taxes. Love lost. Childbirth. Smacking yourself in the mouth when you're trying to pry open a the lid on a sports water bottle.

But one of the most painful things in life is seeing your child hurting.

We all know by now that I'm not the warm and fuzzy-type mommy. I'm not above making my child cry when he has it coming. However, when someone or something else makes my child cry, it hurts me, too.

Ian is playing baseball this season. Against his will. Rob signed him up based on Ian having enjoyed tolerated the sport last year. Ian is not a natural athlete. He much prefers his activities to include a screen rather than a bat, ball, or net. Needless to say, in an effort to keep him from becoming the definition of sedentary, Rob and I are always trying to keep him involved in something that doesn't require only the use of his thumbs. Hence, baseball.

This year, Ian isn't enjoying tolerating the experience. Our pre-game ritual involves Ian "standing up for himself" and fighting with whichever parent has the misfortune of having to take him to the ballpark. Once there, he puts on a reasonably good face until which time he misses the fly ball, hesitates on the throw, bobbles the ball, or strikes out, and then the game is over for him mentally and emotionally. Ian believes he is the worst player on the team and it's taking its toll on him.

Having never stuck with anything I wasn't good at until I hit my thirties, I am sympathetic to Ian and his overwhelming desire to quit baseball. It pains me to see him in tears in the dugout, knowing that the embarrassment of the tears themselves is probably as bad or worse than the play he just failed to make and the feeling that he's let his team down again. If this was an individual sport like karate, golf, or tennis, it would be easier to force him to stick with it for a determined amount of time, but being a team sport makes it that much more difficult for me to not kidnap him from the dugout and tuck him away safely somewhere.

I don't think Rob will allow Ian to quit baseball until this season is over, and it's not because he's cruel. I'm sure he believes that this experience will build Ian's character and hopefully teach him something about teamwork and perseverance. I hope he's right. In the meantime, I'll try to keep my sympathetic tears for Ian to myself.