Put Me In, Coach

Here's a question I've been pondering lately: If I were a baseball player, what would my walk-up song be?

Now, you're probably wondering why this has been on my brain. Keep reading, and I'll explain. A few weeks ago, my Sunday school class had a social at a Columbia Fireflies game, and one of my friends, noticing how I like to break it down to every batter's music, posed said question and suggested I turn it into a blog post, so here we are.

Unfortunately, I'm really struggling with my song. Part of my problem is I can never remember if it's a "walk-up" or a "walk-out" song, just like I can never remember if it's "whitey tighties" or "tighty whities," but that's really neither here nor there. Whatever the song is called, I can't seem to choose just one. And so I ponder . . .

While that question has been floating around in my head, so has the game of baseball in general. The one conclusion I can come to with certainty is that baseball is a lot like parenting.

The biggest take away from the game a few weeks ago was this: some of us were able to enjoy the game more than others, and that level of enjoyment depended solely upon the age of the kids we brought with us.

See, the parents of the older kids were able to sit back, relax, and actually watch the game, while those of us with younger kids ended up watching the kids more than the game. We were on the edges of our seats, not because of any excitement on the field, mind you, but because it made it easier to constantly count heads and monitor behavior. I will admit, there were times during the game when I was a little jealous of the peace those other parents seemed to exude.

Some of us voiced our envy to one of our friends with older kids, and she assured us there was no need to worry, we'd be in her shoes soon enough. She gave us hope that there's a light at the end of the toddler tunnel, and she even confessed to missing some of the good parts of the stage we're in, like the sweet snuggles and hugs.

By the time the 8th inning rolled around, the game was tied, and those of us with young children started to panic. Personally, I know I was thinking, "Oh, sweet Jesus, please don't let this game go into extra innings. We need it over, and we need it over now!" There's no joy in trying to drag two little boys out of a ballpark before they shoot off the fireworks.

While extra innings were a very real fear at 9:30 on a Saturday night, I started to wonder if I wish away too many stages in general. Do I try to hurry this phase up so much that the good part is over before I'm really ready for it to be . . . or even worse, before I'm even aware of its passing? I would hate to get to the end of the game and realize I missed a lot of great hits. I'm sure there are plenty of parents who have already sent their kids to the outfield of adulthood and now spend their days longing for their children to come back to the home dugout more often.

What I've realized since then is that as parents, we're ultimately all playing the same game, it's just that we're all on different bases. And while I could spend my time being jealous of the other moms who have already reached second and third while I'm still sweating it out on first, that's not going to help me advance. Instead, I can see those other parents as my base coaches, supporters who can use their experience to send me helpful signals along the way.

Once I figured all of this out, I decided my walk-up song should be more about my life than just a song with a good beat. The first song that came to mind was Ozzy Osbourne's Crazy Train. It actually does have an awesome instrumental intro, perfect to get the crowd pumped. Plus, it kinda summarizes my life at the moment, since most days I feel like I'm going off the rails of this crazy train called parenthood. Yet, while I liked it, there was a part of me that wasn't completely sold.

So, using Crazy Train as as a starting point, I began searching through my iTunes to see if the perfect song would jump out at me. I considered Running on Empty (again, how I sometimes feel as a parent and as a teacher in May), I Will Survive (a little pep talk for myself), and Sexy and I Know It (pretty sure that one speaks for itself), but none of those was 100 percent right either. Finally, I found just what I was looking for.

In the end, I came back to where I started and landed on a song about a different train--Quad City DJ's C'mon n' Ride It (The Train). It has a good intro, but more importantly, it reminds me of a key lesson I'm learning: as crazy as this parenting train can be, I sure am glad to be riding it. And when I feel like throwing in the towel, I just have to sing, "I think I can, I think I can . . . "