I signed JD up for Little League on Saturday. Last year, I was able to sign him up online and didn’t have to interact with humans. My dad came with us to a sporting goods store to get his mitt, cleats and pants. Opening day was fun! There was a parade and ceremony. T-ball itself was somewhat chaotic, but adorable.
Every Saturday at 9 AM we went to the field to play ball. Two dads of kids on the team coached, but because the kids were so little, most parents hung out on the field to help out. A lot of the kids were with their dads, or moms and dads.
I borrowed Carlo’s glove and rolled JD grounders, caught the ball when he flung it
back at my head and positioned his stance when he was batting.
My dad routinely came to the practices and games too, in these amazing, ridic’ “so Jersey” track suits. He often told me to sit on the bleachers so he could help JD. He coached both Carlo and Brian’s teams, so I let him have his fun. I didn’t feel like he was telling me to sit down because I was a woman in a pink t-shirt, ballerina bun atop my head and Converse on my feet. I recognize women are awesome and capable of anything a man is, but I also whole-heartedly believe my son needs men in his life… to show him the way.
It has nothing to do with baseball being a stereotypical “boy sport,” because uncle Carlo often reads to JD and my dad showed him how to make meatballs. It has nada to do with the activity, just the presence of a guy.
All this said, I was amused, not pissed or slighted, on Saturday when I took JD to sign up for Little League. We entered the community center to find four men, presumably dads, seated at four different stations: Sign-up, candy sales, uniform sizing, and payment. It was us and them. Upon stopping at the sign-up, I was asked if JD was a returning player. Yes. Then I was asked if my husband wanted to coach. No.
“I don’t have a husband. I can’t commit to coaching, but I’ll volunteer like I did last year,” I said nonchalantly, but laughing in my head. JD was already eyeing up the candy.
The guy that asked me about my non-existent husband, said, “Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry!” I said cooly with a smirk.
Strange though, I’ve gotten “the dad” questions, but no one really asks about my man. In this day and age, does a woman need a ring to have a kiddo? NO! So many scenarios: I’m divorced. My husband is dead. My husband is an a*shole. I’m a choice mom. I’m a lesbian. I adopted. I GOT STORKED! Hello!
“Wanna sell candy?” the next guy said to us.
“Heck yeah, we’re selling candy!” I said. JD literally fist-pumped and said, “Woo!”
Next, the sizing of the uniform. The sizing guy said, “By looking at him, XS pants, Miss.” At this point I’m grinning and refraining from laughter. It was assumed I had a husband, couldn’t coach as a woman and now these four guys were attempting to size my kid. I get paid to size and dress models at photo shoots for a national top-selling mag. NO, I did not tell these men that aside from not having a husband and not being coach-worthy because I have a glorious vagina, that I DO in fact have a successful career.
“XS is too small for him. He has a small waist and long legs,” I said grabbing the size S pants. I held them up to JD and stretched them around his waist. “Waist might be a little big, but I can adjust that,” I said.
Our last stop was payment and oh MAN, was I excited to pull out MY checkbook with my name on it. $120 for signup and candy. Signed.
Batter up boys, it’s gonna be a great season. Single moms, women, girls … PREVAIL.
Batter Up 1 of 5Poppy taught JD how to bat even though I knew I could.
Opening Day 2 of 5The parade and ceremony was a huge deal for the kiddos. Pssst: JD was #11 last year.
JD For The Catch 3 of 5Cute and chaotic, often times, more than one kiddo goes for the ball. LOL.
Round The Bases 4 of 5JD is a fast runner and sharp batter! His mom is a loud cheerleader.
Fashion Qs? 5 of 5Here we are in Zara working on a colored denim story for the magazine. I had market work to do and no sitter, so I took JD along and called him my intern. Ahem, don't tell me what size my kid wears, honey.
Ladies … and gentlemen, I’d love your opinion!
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