So ... what is it that lead me here? Three boys, home schooling, life. There's a heart beat and just the semblance of rhythm. Breathe. In out. Right? That's all it takes?!

Okay the lesson I am grappling with. In my youth - sometime shortly after the dark ages - baseball was about the cute butts in tight baseball pants. It was about beer on a hot summer day in a AAA stadium, it was about people watching, it was about sobering up after the game by sitting in the parking lot with others in similar states of inebriation. It was NOT about baseball. This was a sport that made no sense to me other than background noise for what I described above. Fast forward.

I now have a baseball addicted son, and a husband who has made an inexplicable conversion. And I am struggling with that transition. You know a very wise group of people decided that parents should not drink while watching their children play a sport. And, no, I am not an exception. However, I have little experience in baseball without beer. And I certainly cannot admire my son's or his peers buns - waaaaay too creepy. So I'm grappling.