I’ve never really been around much sports in my life. My parents divorced when I was 7 and my father was a computer guy. So, I never had a Sunday filled with football growing up. Being from Queens, it was even worse. There were no teams to join. We would just hang out on our stoop and play 4 corners. Cement games… yes, that’s how I rolled.

Now that I live in a town that is OBSESSED with sports, I find it hard to fit in sometimes. Not that I don’t get along with the moms – because I do. But I just don’t get it. I don’t know what I’m looking at. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m in a foreign world.

For instance, this weekend we all went to Liam’s baseball game. He was running onto the field and I yelled, “Liam!! Don’t forget your mitten!!!”

Heads turned from all over.

“Mitten!!!! Vera! It’s a MITT!”


Then I asked someone when the rehearsal was going to end…. but I guess I should have said practice. And finally I said something about the team’s outfit and was reminded that they are called uniforms.

I don’t know. This isn’t my world. We are all laughing which is good… but I feel like I need to do some freaking research for this new role. Soccer mom? Baseball mom? Me? I guess so…



At least Caleb still thinks I’m right. 🙂

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