Pee-Ball

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! This is the (lucky) 13th week of this fun-filled event from dad-blogs.com. Welcome to readers new and old. If you were a fan of Big Big Brother's soccer season, then I’ve got more blog-worthy youth sports antics in store.

WeaselMomma, this post carries a Yellow Level "Pee-Alert", so please protect your furniture accordingly.

It’s the middle of spring, which can only mean one thing: pee tee-ball season!

Big Brother had his first tee-ball practice last week, and it did not disappoint.

I really enjoyed being on the parent-END of practice, instead of the coach-END. First of all, I got to sit on my hind-END during practice (most of the parents pretty much tailgate with folding chairs and snacks).

Second, it was reassuring that the one kid who threw a FIT complete with screaming, crying, and refusing to play was the COACH’S son (aka NOT MINE). This really helped normalize my soccer experience. I felt bad for the coach, but it was still quite refreshing.

Big Brother, on the other hand, had a LOT of fun. In fact, he got SO excited that he had to pee, and pee, and uh, pee.

If there was a small bladder club for 4 year-olds, Big Brother would be the VEE-PEE.

In the course of a 50 minute practice, Big Brother went potty 3 more times than the other 10 players on the team COMBINED (they went zero times). (It probably didn’t help that he drank part of a lemonade at Panera Bread before practice, and that his bladder capacity is about the size of a peanut shell.)

He was quite a sight standing on the pitcher’s mound. You knew he had to go potty when he started jerking around like a cross between a Fernando Valenzuela's wind-up and having ants in his pants. (If he continues to be able to dance like that in high school, he’ll have his pick of prom dates.) But he was having so much fun that he protested leaving the field.

And there were more signs that it should really be called PEE-BALL.

Even though his team is the White Sox, their team hats and jerseys are YELLOW.

Not only are the jerseys yellow, the “sponsor” is JIFFY LUBE.

One of his two coaches, who rides a Harley and looks like he once wrestled in the WWF (not WWE, I’m talkin’ old-school), wore a shirt that said “Size Matters.”

Let me tell you firsthand, that it DOES matter. If your child has a small bladder, then they will have to pee A LOT.

And the best part is that there’s only one Port o’ Potty at the baseball field (the same place where they had soccer). The THIRD time Big Brother had to pee, there was another kid who literally spent about 10 minutes in the potty. The other kids waiting in line started throwing rocks at the door. This did not speed things up. It felt like we were in “A Christmas Story” when Randy had to pee while Raphie was busy decoding Little Orphan Annie’s secret society message. You know, if you drink a lot of Ovaltine, that’ll make you have to pee, too.

Big Brother found it completely hysterical when the kids started throwing rocks at the Port o’ Potty. He giggled uncontrollably. (He probably would’ve thrown rocks, too, if I didn’t proactively give him the “we don’t throw rocks” speech for about the millionth time (only a million more before it finally sinks in). Obviously throwing rocks is potentially dangerous, but sometimes it’s still hard to tell your kids not to do something with a straight face when you yourself find it a little funny.) The rock-throwing only made him have to pee even MORE. We finally resorted to peeing on a tree (far) behind one of the dugouts.

Still, Big Brother managed to field the ball a few times, throw (albeit underhand), hit off the tee, andrun saunter around the bases once.

It was the hitting and running the bases part where shades his personality really came out. You see, Big Brother is like his Dad-E in that in social situations he is rather shy, quiet, and reserved (he talks in a whisper and he could make you think he’s deaf, but he’s really just taking it all in). By contrast, in the comforts of home he is quite outgoing and outspoken.

So, when it came time to hit the ball, he swung the bat like he was in a china shop, unlike at home when he tries to smack the tar out of Little Brother with any toy that resembles a bat (Don’t worry Little Brother, someday you may be bigger than Big Brother, and you can pin him down on the ground and hold ice on his forehead). And unlike when he has to pee, when he hit the ball it trickled out to the pitcher’s mound.

And when it came time to run the bases, you’d think the child had never run before. The same boy who literally FLIES around the house naked and requires two adults to catch him had to be coaxed to circle the bases.

After practice, the coaches had snacks for the players. Of course, Big Brother, my picky eater, snarfed down a bag of Spicy Nacho Doritos?!? He who would never eat anything spicy or nachoey at home. Go figure. Apparently if it’s a chip, he’ll eat it. Frito-Lay needs to start making chicken chips and peanut butter chips.

Oh yeah, and they had Capri-Sun drinks, too. I think that made him have to pee another 3 times after we got home.

I’d tell you more, but I have to go pee now myself.

Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E

PEE-S: Next Fatherhood Friday, we’re going to have the first guest-post ever on Busy-Dad-E. That’s right, Busy-Mom-E is going to steal the show. “Why?” you may be asking.

I’m currently out of town for back-to-back conferences. On Saturday (tomorrow), Busy-Mom-E is going to fly SOLO with the boys to California so that we can all rendez-vous at the site of the second conference. Oh yeah, and she’s running a 5-mile race that’s 90 minutes away from the airport 6 hours before her flight because she doesn’t have enough to do that day.

I mean, flying with young kids is easy for two parents, so it shouldn’t be a problem for one parent, right?

Please note that she spontaneously volunteered to do this. As a peace offering, I got her an iPod Touch for Mother’s Day. Hopefully a few games and videos will help ease the burden slightly.

But I don’t think it’ll help when Big Brother has to pee, and she has to fit him, herself, and Little Brother in an airport lavatory. Talk about “three’s a crowd.”

Who votes for fluid restriction for Big Brother?

If you see a woman in an airport with two young kids looking frazzled, please be nice and offer to help because it might be her.

Stay tuned! If I don’t post between now and then, you’ll understand that I’m bus-E helping her recover from the flight.