How many strikes, Yogi?
In baseball, three strikes and you’re out. Which seems harsh to the seven-year-old batter because you know, if you keep swinging, you’ll probably eventually hit the darn ball. But if you only get three chances, then well. Huh. Phht.
I’m thinking though, that three strikes and then out would be kind of a relief when it comes to parenthood. I mean, I keep missing that darn ball and I’m still not allowed to go and sit on the bench and have a rest, even a sulky one. No. I have to keeping standing up here, trying to keep my eye on the ball, holding the bat steady, keeping my nerve, focusing my thoughts. Hoping that this time I won’t screw up.
But I do. Swing. Swish. Strike 131, 893!
And again. Swing. Pop. Foul ball. Strike 131, 894!
And again and again and again.
I’m tired of getting it wrong. Of trying to do it right, keeping my chin up, hoping I’ll not lose my temper, get too tired, forget to pack snack, answer big, important questions flippantly because I’m not concentrating, cut bathtime short because I’m ready for bed, lose track of time, drive too fast, silently will my child to chose short bedtime stories because all I want to do is go somewhere quiet quiet quiet and not, for ten minutes in a row, do anything wrong at all.
I want to be benched. I want to be thrown out of the game. I want to kick dust in the umpire’s face (Strrrrrrrrrrike 183, 905!) and get ejected. I want to do something where the stakes aren’t so damn high all the time. Like flower arranging. Or skeet shooting. Or international diplomacy.
I want my own frailty to not matter so much.
Still, I’m up here swinging. (Swish.) And swinging. (Swish.) Because I do hit the ball sometimes, if only rarely in any sort of grand way. And there’s no way to do that, except by keeping my nerve. Eye on the ball. Level bat. And swinging.
Yeah, a little bench-warming break would be grand, wouldn’t it? My arms are tired too, from holding it up all the time.
Me? I’m glad you’re out there swinging, that you share bits and pieces of when you miss…and when you hit. It makes me (and a bunch of others, I’m sure) feel not so alone.
Ain’t it the truth!! Can I join you in the penalty box? (Are there penalty boxes in baseball?) Some days I wish an injury or something could keep me out of the whole season….
And sometimes you actually hit the ball. The feeling of accomplishment is overwhelming… until invariably, it’s caught and you’re OUT!
I have a (yellowed) newspaper clipping attached to my refrigerator door that simply states:
FAILURE: The Raw Material of Success.
Oh boy, was that a good post. Been feeling the same way lately. I have no advice of course, but I did want to let you know that hit home (ugh, did I write that?).
Great post. You really hit the blogging ball with this swing!
As a practical aside, sounds like you need a long weekend to yourself. Can your husband take the children to visit relatives or friends without you one weekend, or can you go visit a (quiet) friend in another city for a few days? Sometimes one needs to fill the old internal reservoir.
This time of year, I think “I can’t wait for school to start!!!” We’re both cranky and irritable and tired of each other.
But then the first day of school comes (today) and I look at him with longing and love and think “Why was I so cranky? Why wasn’t I more patient with him? Would it have been so hard to make more of an effort?”
I guess we just keep trying to learn the same lesson over and over again. Boats against the current and all that stuff….
yup, yup. unlike ball players though, we don’t get to rest after our turn at bat, or between innings. And it creates this vicious cycle where we can’t fill our wells back up with patience and sanity.
Someone[I don't know who] said the only way to not fail[occasionally]is to never try. Keep swinging Stomper. Great post. We’ve all been there, but this says it best.
Moms.
The best thing since sliced bread.
But I’m pretty sure a mom was responsible for the sliced bread, so, ’nuff said.
I’ll bat for you once your arms get tired.
you do hit the ball every now and then, just keep remembering that. And while you may not think it all that spectacular when you do, I suspect you are just not seeing how far the ball flies.