We just started baseball season a couple of weeks ago.
I slipped back into the practice and game days two days a week business pretty seamlessly. The good thing: the boys have practice on the same days. This frees up an extra two days for us in the week and we don't feel like we're living at the baseball field. The bad: they practice on two different fields with the same start and ending time.
So I drop off one a little bit early at field number one. Race along this road to get to field number two so he won't be late.
Get there by the skin of my teeth.
Then, I usually hang out with the kids at field number two. And then the second practice is over, we race back down the same road to get to field number one. We usually find Diego, standing in the parking lot with one of the coaches and his son, and everyone has already left.
All of this is fueled by Starbucks, of course.
Those are my Tuesday and Thursday evenings. I know, fun right? Oh, and this isn't counting the fact that Noah has guitar practice earlier in the afternoon on Tuesdays. And Sol has dance class every Thursday evening.
Anyhow, while I'm racing around like a madwoman down this road, I pass by a small farm. Or a ranch. Whatever you want to call it. I think they have animals, too. The name of the farm is stenciled on their wooden fence. It says, "Dizzle Ranch".
Being ghetto fabulous like I am, everytime I pass it I say
Fo shizzle my nizzle dime brizzle Dizzle RanchIn a total Snoop Dogg voice and everything.
It's a visual marker for us. The kids know they'll be at practice soon (no one wants to be late or else they have to run laps). They also know that when mama sees it, she starts talking like a tall, skinny black man from the LBC.