Take me out to the ball game

On Wednesday we decided to take our kiddos to see the (then) undefeated Texas Rangers. I was a little bit leery because three years later, the memories of Elise's first game still haunt me. There was much screaming. And home runs by the Rangers. That second part is important because every time the Rangers would hit a homer, the fireworks would go off and the screaming would start anew. I think we left after the 3rd inning.

Strangely enough, the Rangers were playing the same team as Elise's inaugural game... the Seattle Mariners. I hoped that wasn't going to be a sign. Thankfully, despite arriving a few innings late, we had a great time. Elise LOVES going to the ballpark, and Mattias did amazing, falling asleep towards the end. And the Rangers won, so.. Woo-hoo!

Go Rangers!

Already a fan at 6 months

Doing the wave

Love. Him.

Starting to get tired


Sleepy boy

Almost there

Aaaaand... he's OUT!


Rangers win!

It's time!

What a great day to be a Texas Ranger Fan! World series, here we come! And what a sweet way to end the game; A-Rod striking out looking.

The Rangers are really the only Dallas-area sports team I can stand. I don't like the Cowboys for the exact same reason I don't like the Yankees. The ego. The entitlement. The "we're-awesome-just-because-we're-the-Cowboys-and-it-doesn't-matter-that-we-suck" attitude. Plus I'm not really a fan of the game anyway. The only thing football is good for is putting me to sleep fast on a Sunday afternoon.

The Mavs don't do it for me either, mostly because their owner is a dink. It's like watching a 13-year old trapped in an adult's body. Seriously, he reminds me of Tom Hanks in Big, only not cute or lovable at all. Disliking the owner is another reason the Cowboys bug me. Need I expand on that?

And the Stars? Well, I don't like any hockey team that isn't the Canucks. And what is a hockey team doing in Texas anyway? Somebody took a very wrong turn somewhere. I think Elise says it best... "Boo Stars!"

But the Rangers are a different story. Especially this year's team. They are extremely talented, yet seem humble. They seem to genuinely like each other and love what they do. I think the fact that they use Ginger Ale to spray during the celebrations so Josh Hamilton can take part is aweome. And the "Claw and Antlers" thing tickles me to death.

So bring on the Giants/Phillies... because, It's Time!

Proof

Et voilà. This one's for you, Maria. Proof. Baby steps out the door...

Oh, and you may remember when I wrote about my foray back into the wonderful world of athletics. I had so many excuses as to why I shouldn't play softball (I'm out of shape, I don't know anyone on the team, it conflicts with Elise's bed time, I'm just a big baby and I'd rather come up with reasons why I can't play than go out and enjoy something I'm actually good at...).

Well, last night, our team (The Naturals) won the Grapevine Summer Softball League Championship. As Elise would say, "go go team!"

Two days later and I'm still sore

Well, Friday night was a success; if by success I mean I didn't die, I didn't get hurt, I didn't hurt anybody, and didn't make a complete fool out of myself.

A demi-fool, maybe.

All in all, I think I did pretty well. I got on base once, scored, coached the crap out of third base, didn't drop any of the balls thrown at me while playing first base, and was error-free.

Because technically, I didn't touch the ball that was rocketed down the first base line by the 6 foot 5 giant man who was hitting from the left side of the plate. I waved my glove at it, but I really don't have any interest in throwing my body in front of something actually whistles as it flies by me because it's going to fast.

The last time I sacrificed my body was bringing Elise into this world, and I still haven't recovered from that.

Put me in coach...

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...