Triangle Mamas

A Mudcats Comedy of Errors

This past Sunday, we planned a family outing to see a minor league baseball game -- sounds like the perfect summer evening, right? I mean, what could possibly go wrong at a Mudcats game?

Well, where do I start?

Maybe with the rain, that ruined the first game we tried to see three weeks ago. After driving through a few light showers on our way out to Five County Stadium (Groupon in hand, of course), we discovered that the afternoon game was cancelled.

But as annoying as that trip was, it was only the beginning of our Mudcats mishaps. Here's a snapshot of all the things that went wrong when we tried again this past Sunday night:

• There was the parking attendant who tried to keep our change for the parking pass.
• Then we got the second parking attendant who told us we'd parked badly (even though we'd done just fine).
• And in case that wasn't enough, we met the third parking attendant (sent to track us down by the second parking attendant) who took my husband back to the car and made him move it back 18 inches.
• Once inside, the people sitting in our reserved seats furnished tickets with the exact same seat numbers on them, although he cleverly held his finger over the date on the tickets. Then my sweet husband went down to the box office, asked for four new tickets and declined to have the other people thrown out -- sadly the seats weren't as good and it took us a walk around the entire park to find them.
• They only sell hot dogs at certain concession areas, not all. Which seems ridiculous, since I go to baseball games specifically for hot dogs (not pizza or chicken sandwiches). After waiting in a very long line (made even longer because they didn't seem prepared to actually serve any hot dogs at the end of the 2nd inning) and handing over every single dollar in our pockets (because they only took cash and over-charged for every item), the hot dogs tasted more microwave than grill. Average at best and very disappointing.
• Did I mention that the rather active smoking area was parked beside the food line we were standing in? 
• After walking around the entire park, arms filled with food, drinks and children, we finally arrived at our new seats. Which were filled. Again. Thankfully there was an usher there this time to shoo the offenders back into their own seats. Which they were quite annoyed about.
• As we filed into our row near 3rd base, exhausted by the effort, we looked down to see the floor littered with peanuts and peanut shells crunching under the feet of our peanut-allergic son.

At this point, I looked at my husband with a desperate attempt at a smile and said, "I'm telling you now. If I get hit with a foul ball, it's over. We will be on national television, and I better get paid well for my 15 minutes of fame."

Thankfully, we left without further incident at the 7th inning stretch and made it safely home in time to tuck the kids in bed and fall out on the couch.

In defense of the Mudcats operation, everyone on staff inside the park was very courteous and helpful. But sadly it wasn't enough to make me want to go back any time soon. Guess it's just as well that the season is over -- gives me time to recover before spring training.

Cross-posted from My Convertible Life, where Cyndi writes about surviving all of life's craziness with the top down and two car seats in the back. For a more concise version of Cyndi, follow her on Twitter @convertiblelife.

Education Day at the DBAP

By Abby

It's baseball season and here in Durham, baseball means Bulls! I've already been to two games, and am ready for more.

My first game was last Friday night. Although a trip to the ballpark may sound like a cheap date ($8 tickets are less than the movie theater after all), when you add in several hot dogs, beers, and other "ball park only" splurges, that price quickly elevates. Despite that, a Bulls game is a near perfect date. It nicely tows the line between stare at each other, talk dates and stare at a screen, sit in silence dates. There's both entertainment and conversation. To me, that's perfection.

For my second game, I took a different date. I've written before about how perfect the 11 AM games are for little ones, and today's was no exception. Linus and I met up with our friend's Marty, CC, and lil' C for a little Spring time fun. The boys did great, spreading their attention equally between the actual game, the fun festivities, and the Matchbox cars I brought along. I still wasn't able to bring myself to indulge Linus in a hot dog or electric pink cotton candy, but he did pretty much eat a bucket of popcorn by himself. Anytime I tried to sneak a little, I was chastised, "No, Mommy, you're not hungry." Of course, one drawback of attending a game with toddlers is that you lose the conversation part of the date. It never seems I get enough chat time with Marty, but we do our best while still being the hands-on mommies we are.

I know Linus enjoyed the game. The rest of the afternoon all he wanted to do was, "Talk about the Bull, Mommy." We were lucky enough to witness a Bulls' home run before leaving the ballpark. For those of you not in the know (or who haven't seen Bull Durham), there's a great big Bull in left field that has eyes that light up, a nose that steams, and a tail that moves whenever the Bulls hit a home run. Linus was fascinated by it, and could not stop talking about it.

So, whether your date is a devilishly handsome 30-something or two sweet little tow heads, there's lots of fun to be had at the DBAP.

---

(Cross-posted at My Sweet Babboo.)

Abby, sister to two jocks, grew up living and breathing baseball. Lucky for her, a move to Durham meant the chance to support a winning team instead of haplessly following the down and out Kansas City Royals. She writes about all the ways in which she loves Durham at her personal blog My Sweet Babboo. She can also be found sending local shout-outs on Twitter.

Roller Girl Dreams

by Sue

I have this reoccurring dream.

It’s rainy, it’s dark, and the kids and I have been stuck inside all day getting on each other’s nerves.

I have finished the dishes, the laundry, have given the kids their baths and got them ready for bed. With each household chore I accomplish I can feel the tension building in my body.

My husband walks through the door, I give him a kiss and say “Their all yours.”

I skip out the door and feel the freedom on my skin. I arrive at my destination with all the tension in my body still rising, knowing that relief is just a few moments away.

I change my clothes and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I feel a level of tension leave my body. I smile at myself as I walk out under the bright lights.

“Let’s do this.” I whisper to myself.

The rest of the dream proceeds the same every time. I have left my house a tired, overstress stay-at-home mother and wife and morph into this badass motherf*@#!r of a roller derby girl.

I spend the next hour or so rolling away my stress, having fun, bonding with my friends and most importantly, kicking some booty.

Ahhhh…this dream makes me smile. I wish, wish, wish it could become a reality, but let’s face it, I am not that cool. Roller Derby? Hell yeah roller derby!

Have you seen these chicks? They are tough, beautiful, strong, fearless and not afraid to show it.
Roller Derby is my secret fantasy. If I were young/lame enough to go onto MTV’s Made, I would ask to be "made" into a kick-ass roller derby player.

Now to be honest, I don’t know much about roller derby, but this has been a secret fantasy of mine for a while now. I totally fall for all that cheesy girl power crap every time.

I drink out of a Wonder Woman mug every morning for Pete’s sake.

I think it is because it is the polar opposite of how I am on a daily basis. I have my real life where I am a mom and wife first and Sue second.

I miss the days when I was able to work out hard, when I wanted and how I wanted. I used to be immersed in Tae Kwon Do and Kickboxing and not afraid to put myself out there and learn new things.
Now for the first time in my life I feel meek, detached from my new body, the body that motherhood has given. I no longer hold my head up high as I walk and almost feel betrayed by the strength I used to posses.

Could I make this a reality? Maybe? I did however, contact the Carolina Roller Girls to get more information about how try outs work and when and where they occur.

Am I crazy?

Possibly, but I think it would be worth it to at least go see the Carolina Roller Girls in action. If I like what I see and don’t think the girls are too scary, maybe it will motivate me to get my strength back.

Do you have an alter ego you wish you could live out?

For now I will live vicariously through my dreams. Besides, it is fun to come up with what my roller derby name would be.

When Sue isn't dreaming of banging heads, she blogs at Motherhood 'n' Me. You can follow her on Twitter.

Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

If you're looking for Springtime activities for kids here in the Triangle, look no further than DBAP. That's Durham Bulls Athletic Park for the uninitiated. With sunshine, hot dogs, and cotton candy, it's got all the ingredients for a perfect kid day. Plus, with ice cold beer, baseball, and cotton candy, it's a fun for the parents as well. Linus, slathered from head to toe in sunscreen, attended his first game on Education Day. Although much busier than originally planned, it made for an exciting atmosphere with enthusiastic renditions of "Charge!" and the Sponge Bob Square Pants theme song.

Our family attended an 11AM game which worked perfectly around naptime but there are also early afternoon games and evening games. If you splurge ($2 more per seat), you can get seats under the awning which, for a fair child like mine, will ease your fears of sunburn. Linus was enthralled with the game, crowd, and Wool E. Bull and managed to sit through 6 innings during which we indulged in all the regular ballpark foods.

Just don't forget to purchase your Bulls hat before you leave the ballpark so you can root for the Bulls even outside of the ballpark.

Home Team

I have never cheered for a team where I went to school. College, that is. There wasn't a big competitive sports scene at the woman's college where I spent the first part of my higher education, and the second part - well - I was into my own scene, let's just say.

My family are die hard bleeding maroon Mississippi State fans, myself included. Great greats and grands, my father, uncle, brother, everyone - except moi - went up north to Starkpatch to get their higher education. There is even a dorm which bares my maiden name.

Momma and Daddy always had season tickets to the basketball games, and when my dad couldn't go, my mom would often give me the chance to ride up with her and see the game. Or see who I could see, was usually my agenda.

One trip up was a race against the clock to get me back in time for the SubDeb Formal. I think I got home with about 15 minutes to get ready. The pictures show it too. The Bulldogs were playing LSU, and my mom said it was going to be worth the drive to see the game. Not because it was going to be a good game, but because a little dude named Shaquille O'Neal was playing for LSU. Momma said that we shouldn't miss seeing him playing college ball. She was right.

Anyway, my NCAA bracket this year had my Bulldogs going up against the Tarheels for the Championship game. I tend to make my bracket out by who I like best. It usually doesn't go well, for I never ever advance any team from Florida and I definitely never advance UCLA no matter how good they are supposed to be.

Of course the Dawgs were knocked right out in the first round. We knew they would be, but I had to root for them anyway. They were my home team.

Were.

I sit here tonight, rooting for the Tarheels and feeling at home doing so. It's not my alma mater. It's not Kevin's either, but they do ever so graciously employ him. More and more Carolina blue has been making its way into our home. A sweatshirt here, a t-shirt there. We are becoming a Tarheel family through and through.

And it feels good. It feels good to be able to let go a little bit more of the things that keep me from being completely rooted here in North Carolina.

It feels good to be home.

Crossposted at Don't Take the Repeats, Marty's personal blog. If you want less words more often, follow Marty on Twitter. Come on now, it's fun.