My Love/Hate Relationship with Baseball

I grew up playing softball, just like my mom did. I love it! I love going to baseball games and I went to a lot of games growing up. I love cheering for the team and singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game." I love watching my boys play baseball. Mark just finished coach pitch....and, I mean this in the most humble way possible, he was awesome. He could stroke the ball! He caught fly balls and stopped grounders. Mark works hard to be good though. You will often find him practicing baseball all by himself for hours in our yard. Dax just started T-ball and is so excited. He played really well at his first game and hit the ball pretty hard. Dax also stopped all the balls that came to him and always knew to throw it to first base.

Intense--always!

Mark getting ready to hit.

Dax is SO excited about his first game!

Uh oh...just as intense as his older brother!

Now, there are a few reasons I am starting to hate baseball. First, it monopolizes my husband's and children's lives. They watch every Red Sox game, read everything they can about the Sox, and sometimes I just want to toss the computer/TV out the window. I guess baseball is a good obsession, right?

Well, a few days ago, I found out about another reason to hate baseball. It is starting to cost me a lot of money.

Mark and Dax were playing baseball together. Dax hit the ball after Mark pitched to him and lost his grip on the bat (a plastic bat, by the way), and it shattered that window. So now we have to fix it.

Then, a day later Mark was hitting with the same plastic bat but using a soft baseball instead of a wiffle ball. He fouled it off and did this to our fence.

I've kind of been waiting for all of this to happen, but now that it's here I'm starting to have mixed emotions about baseball. Don't worry, I'm sure my love of the game will win out, but right now, I'm still a little peeved.