I had worried over what to do with four kids for the entire summer for almost a year. This was the first real test for me, because last year we were all focused on the fourth being born and my husband had plenty of time off. School vacations were chaos since then, and I was quickly realizing that I was in for almost three months of a chaotic "vacation." Late spring, my husband joined a softball league and games were scheduled three times a week at a school with a huge park and open field and plenty of security so that the children were absolutely free to roam. Softball saved my summer.

I gave myself an important set of tasks this summer, and that was to enjoy life, love those babies o'mine, and intoxicate oneself on beautiful summer evenings. I felt compelled to bring alcohol with me if I was to endure grown adults running around on the softball field. I never left home without a few bottles of Corona (limes in a baggie) or a homemade brew of sangria or pomegranate martinis depending on the flavor of my mood. FYI, these drinks don't come cheap on the calories. The softball field is almost exactly one mile away, so I walked to and from (happier on the "from") the field each game. I figured the walking negates the calories, so softball saved me a$$.

Games were great. I met new friends. My children had a blast. I felt like a mover. And a shaker. It's all too fun to hear the response, "You have four children?" I don't know why. I try to act coy, but it's hard. I mostly beam with pride and sit with a halo beam and cuddle my two littlest and nurse my bottle (the one with the alcohol in it). I nonchalantly send off the signal that I'm up for a playdate and a girls' night out, we could even mix these things.

At the final game, there was a foul ball. Normally, the foul balls pop up and they are going way away from me. But, when you see them in the air, it's hard to know where they're going. So, I hug my babies close and gasp and maybe cover my drink with one hand to avoid any spillage, and the ball lands on the other side of the field somewhere and far away.

However, the final foul ball of the season was coming straight for me. It was over my head and I had a two year old on my left. I had a one year old in the stroller on my right. I don't know where my drink was. When I realized how close the ball was, I closed my eyes tight, covered my own head, and ducked. Thankfully, the ball landed about 10 feet behind us all. Softball ruined my image.