Why My Butt Gets Bigger During Baseball Season

iStock_000001607985XSmall.jpgOnce upon a time I went to the gym. I roller bladed. I took hip hop classes. I even went to weekly Weight Watcher meetings. That was before baseball. You see B.B. (before baseball) or B.S. (before softball), I had at least six hours in the day to do the things I wanted to accomplish on a weekend. From hitting the gym, to getting a mani/pedi to food shopping (yes, I’m one of those people who happens to like to skip out on my family as I peruse the aisles of our local supermarket), I had the world at my feet. And then my kids took up team sports. And life as I knew it was never the same.
Now, every weekend is like ground hogs day. I wake up to find out if I’m going to get a few more hours on my side only to learn that my daughter has a double header in Hastings while my son has to be somewhere about 10 miles away at the same time. I can honestly write a word problem about our weekend ball game travails:
If you have two children and one has a baseball game at 11am and the other has a game at noon but must be at the ball field for practice at 11:30am, how do you make it to both fields to watch them play? Answer: You don’t.
So back to my butt. Ever since my kids have been playing ball, I head to the bleachers and plant my buns there for hours at a time as I yap away with moms. As I unconsciously start snacking on my son’s cheetohs, or polish off the rest of the Mister Softie cone that my daughter doesn’t feel like finishing, the damage done to my posterior during fall ball is quite embarrassing to say the least.
Sure, I start out every year thinking this will be the season I make an effort to lose at least 10 pounds and then I just don’t. I mean, how can you when you spend half the day on the bleachers, then the other half running to another ball field, picking up lunch or snacks for someone, eating those snacks and then collapsing in a heap after you’ve been out baking in the sun?
I guess I need to get motivated and start doing some clenching exercises while I’m on the bench. Or better yet, maybe I should ride my bike to the field and tell the kids to carpool with someone else. Either way, I will not let my butt be held hostage by youth baseball. It’s time to take a stand. Or better yet, just stand up and stretch.