break out the bats

Not that anyone needs a reminder that spring is around the corner, but I'm dishing one out anyway. We've had a really mild winter this year. The first snow of the season didn't appear until we were expecting Punxatawney Phil, and that was just a dusting. Even my midwestern bred snow-nose let me down. We didn't get the major snow storm, closing schools for 3-5 days the last week in February that I predicted. Well, we got an ice storm the week before that, but that just wasn't the same. Now we've set our clocks back, laid in bed listening to the mad chirping of twitterpated birds, cleaned off and fired up the grill and played outside 'til our cheeks turned red. Oh, and in our family, certain of us began to sneeze and wheeze uncontrollably. Spring is definitely here.

An All-American family we are, with bats, balls and gloves in all sizes. Even Princess has a wee little pink glove and a teeball bat. On this gorgeous Saturday afternoon, we loaded up the bat-bag, piled the kids and their Gap sweaters into the Family-mobile and headed to the elementary school for some much needed spring training. Hercules and Princess played happily on the school equipment while Bear and the Schmoo practiced various stages of throwing, catching and batting. After a few rusty pitches and swings all around, we finally got into a good rhythm and we were having fun. Which was the point, right?

Out of nowhere, Fergus decided he needs to run home. Now. There are no public bathrooms on the school playground. So with one eye on the wee ones and one eye on the ball, we keep playing until the return of the dad. We play. And play some more. And lots more after that. Kids are beginning to whine about things like drinks and home. It's my turn at bat again. A crunching sound and large movement catch my attention in the direction of the parking lot. I missed my pitch, but it's a minivan-HUZZAH! I turn back to face the Bear, who's waiting for Schmoo to throw the ball back. I glance over my shoulder at our would-be catcher, just in time to realize that the ball is already in motion.

The thunk wasn't as loud as I expected, but pain, oohhhhh, the pain. I am flat on my back screaming to the kids to tell daddy to bring a plastic trash bag and fill it with snow to make me an ice pack, while rolling the metal bat towards me with my foot in the hopes that it is cold from laying on the ground. Only to find out there is no snow left in the schoolyard. Well, there is in my yard!!! Fergus limps me into the car and hands me an ice-cold can of green tea from the trunk. Oh, how goood that feels on the swelling, throbbing lump that is now my eye! The Bear called shotgun, the Littles all piled into the back seat and I stretched across the middle, reassuring my little Johnny Bench that I wasn't mad at him. I told them that I was glad I was the first to get beaned in the eye so that they could see that it hurt, yes, but it was no big deal and it would heal, and hopefully they won't be turned off the sport out of fear.

It didn't look too bad the first day or so, but then the bright Mardi Gras colors came out to play. The swooshing greens and purples colored my eye and cheek so nicely, I thought I'd paint the other side to make it look like a butterfly. I got so many looks; Fergus got so many more!! I had people telling me they could direct me to the battered women's shelters, I was given tips online about domestic violence hotlines, but the ones that got under my skin the most were the ones who shook their heads and "tsk-ed" at me. If one were polite enough to ask why I'm proudly sporting my very first shiner, one would know that it doesn't require a "tsk."

Now we just hope the bruise fades completely before I have my wisdom teeth out in two weeks.....the surgeon predicts severe bruising for those with fair skin....like mine....