Well, it would appear that spring has finally sprung in the Adirondacks. This is not to say that we are completely off the hook as it would not surprise me to see a blizzard move in for Memorial Day weekend. Along with spring in my house come spring sports and along with these sports come another thousand things to keep track of.

My car has been overtaken by baseball equipment. What was once a seven passenger plus a few grocery bags sort of vehicle has turned into a five seat baseball warehouse. Should you find yourself in need of bats, balls, catching gear or an athletic cup, well then I’m your gal. I cannot however give you a ride, nor can I see our of my rear window or bring home more than three shopping bags.

There is also the issue of laundry. Having children that play on different teams makes things a little tricky. Frequently I pull the laundry from the dryer, convinced I am nearly done with uniform preparation, only to find the pants of child number one and the socks of child number two. Usually something has to go through the wash cycle for a second or third time because the clay on baseball fields is a mother’s worst enemy. You can soak and pretreat and scrub and laundry boost ‘til the cows come home, but even combining all of these things is no match for the evil stain created by sliding into home plate. And there’s always a nice surprise waiting should one forget to turn the socks right side in...this is a feat that I have tried to teach for years, but males seem resistant to this particular lesson as well as many others.

Once the various uniforms are clean there is the small matter of accessories. There is no such thing as just getting dressed and leaving the house. One must locate a belt, a hat, glove, batting gloves, Under Armour, black goo for under the eyes and various other doo-dads necessary to play an entire game. There are also the cleats. I have learned that a child (or grown man, for that matter) is capable of bringing inside enough dirt to fill a gallon bucket. They can accomplish this with the help of a single athletic cleat. If, and when, they are caught before entering the house with their shoes they will promptly empty them and bang them clean approximately two feet from an entry door. I can find the spot in the house where an athlete undressed in five-seconds flat, too. There is an outline where a human stood surrounded by dust, dirt, sand, rocks and grass. To the novice it may appear someone has spontaneously combusted from said spot or that the rapture has indeed happened, but one need look no further than the refrigerator to find the culprit.

All the running and playing requires a large amount of food and drink. There are snack graveyards left behind all over my house and car on a daily basis. Things I would have once considered a full meal are now a quick snack before they come looking for “real food.” Lord knows why I keep so much of that fake stuff around the cabinets! I so wish I had bought stock in Gatorade and sunflower seeds when my kids started tee ball years back. By now I might have enough money to feed them for a week.

Once they’re fed and clothed and loaded up with equipment I have to search for the schedules I lose on a daily basis to figure out who is going where, when and how and wonder what time we’ll all get home. Then it’s a check of the weather forecast check to make sure no one will be rained out. When I think I am finally done with the pre-show along comes the husband who doubles as a coach ... “Have you seen my hat and glove?”