Tookie and I are packing up the van in preparation for 2 months of non-stop base-ball and soft-ball games. By non-stop I mean every. single. week-night. for. 2. months.

Okay....I've exaggerated. There are 4 nights in May that there are no games scheduled. And our June calendar isn't quite as filled as May. But I haven't received the t-ball schedule yet.

So. We are packing blankets, winter coats, umbrellas, first-aide stuff, magazines and books, snacks and hot chocolate mix. As well as spring jackets, sun-screen, water bottles, more bandaides, juice-boxes and more snacks. And wipes.

Ohhhhh, the all-purpose, home-made diaper-wipes. We no longer need them for, well, diapers. But they are great for cleaning hands and faces and scratched knees.

And for poorly-lit-porta-pottys.

That's probably the only thing I hate about ball games. I would rather eat dirt that spend any time in a porta-potty.

When my kids who are playing the game don't hear me yelling and cheering....a form of embarassment they have come to excpect (and enjoy?).....they know that mom is helping a preschooler in the bathroom.

And what is it about the....ahem....conversations that preschoolers need to have with their moms....but can only be talked about in a public restroom? Do you know what I am saying? The topics that make you not want to make eye contact with anyone else once you come out of the bathroom because you aren't sure who was in the next stall or if they were offended or not.

Or if they will bust out laughing at you. Is it just me?


On a different-yet-somewhat-related-note: Fred is wondering which team my boyfriend is coaching.