Take Me Out To The Ballgame

Last summer, part of our vacation was a planned trip into NY so that we could see one of the final games in Yankee stadium. The husband had been there before, but I had never been...and The Boy, though not a Yankees fan, was really looking forward to it. Before we left, The Husband and I had a brief conversation on how much we wanted to spend on tickets before he started bidding on them. Now these conversations are just "for show", because The Husband never has any intention of listening to anything I have to say on these matters. But he does nod his head and pretend like he is listening. On the drive up there, I noticed that he was still "bidding" at each hotel stop we made. When questioned about it, he just said "Well, I'm trying to get better tickets." I was a little worried, because I had told him that outfield cheap seats would be fine...but this is not how he operates....

When we arrived at Yankee stadium, it was a beautiful, albeit HOT, day. Imagine my surprise (not really) when we were led to seats about 2 rows back right behind home plate. I looked over at The Husband...and he just smiled smugly and refused to reveal the price of the tickets. I was actually thrilled, because I am a closet Yankees fan, and I really like Derek Jeter. It was exciting to see them in person. But there was a problem...due to the very hot day, and a phobia that cannot be explained here, Little One was not a happy camper. In fact, as soon as we entered the stadium, I knew we were in for trouble. I did everything I could to accomodate her issues...begged, cajoled, threatened....but by the second inning, we were in the really horrible restrooms waiting for her to throw up. (All the sentimental feelings I had about Yankee stadium being torn down flew out the door that day as I kneeled on the filthy floor in the restroom to help Little One. I was longing for my cool and clean Turner Stadium). Each time we returned to our seats, The Husband got madder and madder....I could just see the dollar signs in his head...I could tell that he was out of patience...

Finally, in the 6th inning, after several trips to the restroom, I just took Little One outside the stadium on a bench under a tree where I planned to spend the rest of the game so that Husband and Boy could watch in peace. But minutes later, 2 angry faces appeared and demanded that we head to the car. Little One was in tears, feeling sick and guilty, The Boy was frustrated...and the Husband was just beyond it all.....we were suppose to go into NYC afterwards and stay at a nice hotel, see a show, take Little One to the American Girl store...but instead...well, suffice it to say that did not happen...but that is a story for another blog...

Last night, The Husband, his BFF and The Boy "allowed" me to accompany them to the Braves vs Yankees game at Turner field. (Little One bowed out due to re-occuring nightmares of last summer's game) It was a hot, but beautiful evening, and I had so much fun. It was a perfect evening...except that I committed the huge mistake of clapping for Jeter when he came to bat...so The Boy refused to speak to me the rest of the night. Although he was being silly...I didn't REALLY mind, because I can be a real baby too when my team loses. The Braves lost...but it was ok. We had a good time...and I spent very little time in the VERY clean restroom...Also...where else can you eat a foot-long hotdog, Edy's ice cream, and a frozen strawberry lemonade, and not feel guilty for doing it???

So until tomorrow, when hopefully The Boy will be speaking to me again...