Read This, Instead

I don't have time to blog. It is softball season, people. And while my husband is not coaching this season, (Thank you, Jesus! Because this past summer, when he was assistant coach for the travel ball team and Paul was newly home, I well and truly lost my mind. And I haven't yet gotten it all back.) he is keeping the scorebook. And so is still otherwise occupied during every single softball game. Of which there are about a gazillion. Double headers (varsity and junior varsity) every night but Wednesday this week and a tournament in Bowling Green this weekend.

He is very serious about this scorebook keeping job, too. I love that he's conscientious, but really? Saturday night and Sunday he was immersed in the official high school softball rules book to determine how to score one of our daughter's at bat issues. (If you know - email me. So here's the situation: Runner on second. Sam hits a grounder to third. The third baseman should have thrown her out at first. (In which case Sam might have beat the throw. You never know, right?) But the third baseman instead steps on the third base bag, thinking there is a force at third. But there is NOT a force at third. So all the runners are safe. I'm calling it a hit because I like handing out hits. Trent is debating fielder's choice (except I'm arguing there was no choice - the only choice for the out was to throw to first then back to third to keep the runner from advancing) versus error on third baseman.)

So this is what is occupying our time. Watching softball and then debating everything that happened during those gazillion softball games. Oh, and also it's spring, so the weeds have taken this opportunity to grow prolifically. And I should really do something about that. And also we signed Paul up for baseball. Because the kid can HIT. Oh, wow, can he hit! But turns out there is a lot more to baseball than hitting. And he's not much interested in the other parts. And the coaches keep saying things like, "This isn't tee-ball anymore" and "Keep your head on it" and "Round the bag" and other things that make no sense.

Coach is talking. Paul hears, "Blah, blah, hit. Blah, blah, hit."

Also our one year anniversary of the day we met Paul is coming up. On May 7th we will have known each other for one year. We're talking about ways to commemorate this special day. (Not sure what to call it. I'm not fond of Gotcha Day. It's not really our Adoption Day. A friend uses Hello, Love Day, which I like, but it's hard to say.) Paul wants me to read his Life Story book to his class, which is a big deal. A very big deal. We have a lot to occupy our thoughts and our time.

Jen Hatmaker wrote a blog after her two had been home one year. It captures beautifully the phases of the first year home. So read this, instead...