Being a baseball mom is not for the faint of heart. Did you know what you were signing up for?

It’s getting in and out of cars taking your child to practice when the sun is beating down and picking them up when it’s setting in the distance.

It’s asking over and over “are you sure you have your bag, your glove, your bat, your belt, your correct uniform, your cup? Are you sure? I’m not turning this car around if you forgot it!”

It’s cheering from wet, soggy sidelines, blazing hot sidelines, and early morning sidelines where the dew still drips from the fence.

It’s backyard pickup games, hot box for days, and grabbing your own faded glove to play catch with your son.

It means dirty cleats and long winded pep talks in muddy vans.

It’s trying to be a miracle worker while you scrub set in stains on white pants at 10 pm at night.

It’s being that crazy mom screaming from behind the bench to stop hanging your head and to cheer on their teammates.

It’s sometimes losing your own temper because the ump made a critically bad call.

It’s mini panic attacks when your son’s up to bat or he’s trying to get that last out after a long inning.

It is the beautiful moments where moms cheer on other moms and bury their heads in her shoulder when the game is just too close to watch.

“Tell me when it’s over,” she says, and her friend willingly lets her anxious tears spill onto her “Baseball Mom Life” t-shirt.

It’s full of exhilarating wins and soul crushing losses.

But we wouldn’t have it any other way. Our boys love the game and we love our boys.

Win or lose.

Rain or shine.

We keep coming back for more.

It’s the love of the game . . . and we’re a special kind of family.