For the Love (of Me) and Baseball

Shortly after my second daughter was born, my husband, his dad, and his brother signed up for a fantasy baseball camp. If you aren't familiar with fantasy baseball camps, it's what you might imagine. Adult men, spend a week, usually at a pro baseball team's spring training facility, receiving instruction on the field from major leaguers, playing games and getting exclusive time with the VIP's. Participants even get their own team uniforms to wear at camp and to take home as memorabilia- or wear around town, if they choose to.

While my spouse chilled in the dugout next to famous dudes, soaked in the Florida sunshine, and bonded over baseball with his dad and brother, I juggled an infant, a toddler, a job, and a busy house for five or six very cold, very dark and very tiring days and nights. As you can imagine, the camp was very fun, so they decided to participate in subsequent years. Several times, my mom or my mother-in-law spent the week with me, helping me with all the tasks required to keep the house running, and the providing the companionship I needed to prevent me from falling apart. Another time, dear friends offered to watch my kiddos, taking vacation time to cuddle my babies so I could save my vacation time for what my partner may think of as a non-fantasy vacation, aka, a family trip with me and the kids.

Not only was I exhausted when he returned home, I was envious.

Raising kids is a 24/7 experience and I resented that he had the opportunity to escape from the commitments and obligations of child rearing, even if only for a short period of time. I envied his ability to pick up and leave so easily when I chose not to. Yes, I, like he, could have chosen to go on vacation for a week. Playing baseball was not my fantasy, but at the time, going to a hotel an hour away, getting room service, and sleeping in would’ve been my fantasy. While he chose to go away, I chose not to, but at the time, it didn’t really feel like I had a choice.

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Logistically, spending time away from my family required time-intensive pre-planning, including food and clothing planning, and childcare to fill the gaps due to my husband's busy schedule. I would start an email or text chain, with all caregivers involved in the week, with a link to a Google spreadsheet with a color-coded schedule and contact information. I would inform daycares and teachers that I was away, and remind them that my other half was the emergency contact for the week, knowing they would still call me with questions. I'd create a folder enclosing social security and insurance cards, labeled and tacked to the fridge.

Would I really do this, you ask? Yes, I would and I did. I didn't choose to take a vacation at this time in my life, but I did choose to continue my employment, which required me to travel for days at a time, several times a year, and to plan household and childcare needs, in my absence, well in advance.

Emotionally, I felt guilty if I wasn’t taking care of my kids all of the time. Physically, my body and soul seemed magnetically attracted to them and I became sad and anxious from physical separation. Additionally, my body was a primary source of food for my infant and very full breasts were painful, as was pumping and dumping my precious, hard-earned milk.

How could I participate in a fantasy when I would get text messages inquiring about the location of baby food jars, hear from a friend that my husband sent my daughter to school wearing only ballet tights and a t-shirt, or feel immense sadness because I couldn’t hold my baby in my arms and be the last person she saw and heard before falling asleep?

Fifteen years ago, I was not my own priority. Fifteen years ago, my husband was still his own priority. We can blame hormones, personalities, social constructs, and a lack of communication for the creation of my martyrdom. His fantasy trips evolved into buddy adventures, which I named Mancations. He wouldn't share much about the trips, despite my asking for details. We both knew I only wanted to know so I could stew in my envy, and ratchet up my status as a martyr. Ultimately, the logistics and the mother/child attachment aside, I didn't think I deserved a break and I needed someone to tell me I deserved that break. My husband never told me he thought I needed a trip with family or friends, and I never brought it up.

Until six years ago.

Six years ago, a friend asked me to train for a marathon. I had recently run my first half marathon, mostly training on a treadmill, with my youngest penned in on the floor next to me. I was nervous, but she assured me that I had a solid base to support a mileage increase, especially if we took our time training. For the next several months, I left the house each Saturday morning and ran with my partner. We ran in snow, sleet, freezing rain, and even a small hurricane. Training for a marathon takes physical and emotional stamina. I allocated between 10-20 hours a week training, stretching, and strategizing, and many more hours to resting and food intake planning. Previously, I had developed a habit of asking my husband if he thought I should do something alone, or at least checking his schedule before planning any activity without kids in tow. He had developed a habit of relying on me as the primary parent, free to come and go, as long as he'd not been asked to step in as my pinch hitter when necessary. During the first weeks of training, my spouse seemed mildly irritated when I walked out the door outfitted with my fanny pack, snacks and water bottle. I took a page from his play book, and ignored the irritation. The weeks turned to months and we had established new habits. I prioritized me and, though he never said it out loud, I knew my husband supported me because he saw the powerful impact the choice had on me. Remember, if momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

He left at 3 am this morning for his yearly Mancation trip and I'm not envious at all. I no longer feel that he is being selfish for prioritizing himself and time with friends. Caring for the girls is much easier and the minute-to-minute, immediate needs of teens pales in comparison to those of an infant and toddler. It's actually fun when Daddy leaves on his trip, the house filled with girl power and giggles.

I no longer run due to a prolonged injury, but I still prioritize myself. I found other outlets, like spinning, hiking, and kayaking. I spent a glorious weekend away with two friends this summer and three more days hiding out and participating in a writer's conference. Everyone missed me, but they survived. I missed them, but that time away allows me to thrive.