Batter Up!

I recently joined a softball team - this runs counter to my entire non-athletic persona. Maybe stranger than me actually joining is that someone asked me to join...perhaps they were being nice and thought I'd say no...anyway, I joined the Brave New Workshop Skirt Turtles. (as you can tell by the name, we are total bad asses)

To be honest, I did it entirely for my boys. They think baseball (and softball, by extension) is one of the greatest things of all time. They are Sid Hartmans in the making - only right now they provide the play-by-play in question form: Who is batting? Why did she miss? Did she get a strike? Is she out?

Yesterday was my first game as a Skirt Turtle. My last softball experience was in 8th grade and I only remember being hit in the face while trying to catch a ball in the outfield. Good times. But I played. I even hit the ball twice, although I hit them both right into the other team's mitts, so I never made it to a base, but oh well. 

If all goes well, I should be able to continue to hide the feelings of fear and inadequacy that seem to be triggered when a ball is coming at my face...or at least not breakdown in tears. 

It's all worth it to hear my little cheerleaders on the side line. If only they could sub in for me.