Published: May 04, 2008 12:48 am            

Love and baseball in the time of high gas prices

NEW ALBANY, Ind. — It’s become obvious to me lately that we’re at a crossroads. The suburban soccer mom lifestyle, long ridiculed by some, idealized by others, is becoming far too expensive for the average family to maintain. Most of us have never been the “ladies who lunch,” camera-ready, “Desperate Housewives” look-alikes with perfect hair and nails in the first place — many American moms hold part-time jobs and juggle a lack of retirement benefits with the investment of time put into our children — but right now, as we speak, the very hallmark of our existence is endangered.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the plight of the Mobile Operator of the Minivan, or MOM, for short.

Personally, I’ve never been a fan of the minivan. I resisted driving one as long as I could. Big, bulky, uncool, no fun — what was to like? Eventually, my boys were so packed into the back of our Volvo station wagon that they fairly sighed in boredom before the requisite clawing of one another’s faces. Short of putting them into straight jackets, we had no other choice but to “upgrade” our vehicle to the ubiquitous gas guzzling family transport unit.

And, I have to admit, despite its quirks (mostly due to age), our minivan has been a real blessing. The boys can’t reach each other as easily with their fingernails, and the bruises from the kicks they land on one another’s knees seem far less serious than the gashes they used to leave. Ah, progress.

I still don’t fool myself that the minivan is cool. It is so not cool. But it’s a necessary evil. The higher gas prices get, the more evil it becomes — and I’m starting to question its necessity.

The boys don’t seem to mind the process of climbing in and out of the thing — they’re a passel of monkeys, jumping nimbly into their seats, or swinging from the safety bars on the way out. Now that the weather is heating up, I’m glad they’ve got the energy because, woe unto us who have to pay for gasoline, it is Little League season.

Driving past the local field, my oldest has asked for weeks, “Do I get to play baseball today?” Finally, his time has come. Not only do we have to invest in those hideous baseball pants, but someone has to be appointed to keep all the uniform articles and equipment together. It would be great if my 6-year-old would take that responsibility himself, and maybe before the end of the season (all 14 games of it), he’ll master that concept, but I’m not placing any bets. I’m too busy trying to figure out how to budget my errands around town so that I don’t end up spending $20 a week on gas to and from the field.

My 4-year-old son is missing out on T-ball, and that actually bothers me. We asked him if he wanted to join Little League, and he said no, so we didn’t sign him up. By the time he’d changed his mind, it was too late to get in, and our plaintive phone calls have gone unanswered. I told him we would sign him up for Fall ball, and he thought I meant a different sport altogether. “No! I don’t want to play Fall ball! I want to play baseball!”

As a mom, I don’t want him to miss out, but as a MOM, I’m thinking that if we do pull together a staggered-season sports schedule, perhaps I won’t be driving that hulking minivan five days a week in the summer heat. Currently, we’ve got two games a week. If we had double that amount, it might be cheaper to pitch a tent on the field, or flop down in the dugout with sleeping bags.

We’ve toyed with the idea of buying a Vespa while gas prices are so silly. I’m sure the kids would love rolling up to the game on a scooter, but then what about the cheering section? The Harmon Family bounces as one cohesive unit, or they don’t bounce at all. I suppose we could show up on two Vespas, and a sidecar ...

I realize the SuperMoms with the expensive coiffures and meticulously applied makeup will choke at this, but I’m looking forward to purchasing our first open-air Human Car someday. A hyper-engineered framework of pumps, pulleys, and levers (at least in my mind), the videos on the net show it traveling up to 60 miles per hour on merely the energy of one human operator. Naturally, I have fantasies about my kids being too busy pumping their assigned levers to kick and punch one another, or throw action figures at the driver. It sounds like so much fun to drive, maybe we could ditch baseball altogether and just tool around town.

OK, so the day my kids abandon team sports may never come, but until fuel expenses become a smaller chunk of our budget, we’re certainly going to be exploring our neighborhood parks on foot, enjoying our back yard, and hosting play dates at our house more often. The days of cruising around in the old family minivan, an outing for every day of the week, are at an end. I’m trying not to see it as a lack of freedom, but as an investment in our future, in our environment, in following through on our promises, as a family.

It isn’t easy being green, but right now, this MOM has no choice.



Leslea M. Harmon writes for The Tribune in New Albany, Ind. She can be reached online at lmharmon.com.

        

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