So apparently, I've reached new heights of pathetic-ness. My wonderful husband, most likely sick of hearing me moan and wail about having no life outside of being a Mom, took it upon himself to pimp me out (as a softball player, come on people... minds outta the gutter) on facebook to any interested co-ed teams.
To my total surprise, some poor, misguided individual (a co-worker of a friend of a friend, or something convoluted like that) out there was interested and I will be making my debut tonight.
To say I'm a little nervous and frightened would be a vast understatement. It's not that I can't play. I'm actually quite secure in my athletic prowess.
It's that I haven't done any sort of activity since the night before I found out I was pregnant with Elise. In that instance, it was a soccer game and I was mowed over no less than 3 times that evening. Further proof that Elise has been a tough little bean from the word "go".
I actually did try to work out during my first trimester, but the other gym patrons did not seem to appreciate the "spew catcher" I carried around with me because I seemed to have difficulty going a full 10 minutes without revisiting the last thing I ate.
I also tried rollerblading, but gave that up when my OB told me in no uncertain terms that that was one of the dumbest things he's ever heard a pregnant woman admit to. I was all like, "Dude, I'm from Canada, we glide into to hospital on ice skates, already in labour up there."
Anyway, the saving grace of all this is that I don't know anybody on the team, so if I show up and make a total jackass out of myself, no biggie. I'll just give them a fake address, and nobody will be any the wiser.
All I can really hope for is that; I get a few hits, don't drop the ball, remember which one is second base, don't get hit by the ball because I'm too busy chatting (that actually did almost happen one game, I was playing third and talking to the other team's base coach. I didn't realize the game had started and almost got smoked by a line-drive), and that I won't be so sore that I can't get out of bed the next morning.
On second thought, that last one might be a good thing...
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