Pray For Me.

It's Friday night and I'm spent.

My child was awake from 12am to 3am, then we were all up early for 8am clients. I blended my protein shake without affixing the lid tightly. Then I dropped - and shattered - a dinner plate. My mom ordered everyone around the shards of glass, then shuttled Ben off to school - as my first client arrived - ten minutes early.

I re-organized my entire schedule so that I could go on the field trip today, the Teddy Bear Picnic, which involved a last minute scramble to produce a stuffed pelican. I have always abolished stuffed animals of any kind in my home.

The field trip rolled into a play date across town, which turned into dinner and meant that bedtime was pushed out by an hour.

Ben fell into bed; and after last night's antics of "I'm too hot," and "My head hurts" and my personal favorite, "Let me try sleeping with you," I should be fast asleep and giving the lines in my forehead a big break.

But I'm not. Because I seriously agonizing over the afternoon activity that I have scheduled for tomorrow (Saturday).

I have to work a three hour shift at the Little League Concession Stand.

Oh, but it gets better. I am the Shift Supervisor.

And to top that, my ex is working the shift with me.

The only saving grace is that this is the last game day of the season. In fact, it's also the last concession shift of the season.

Since I have absolutely no food service background whatsoever, I have the whole thing planned out:

Nachos? Sorry, we're out of cheese. And the chips are stale.

Soda? Nope, carbonation is done for the season.

Tri-tip? That's only served on Mondays.

Two red ropes? No way, that's far too much sugar for one child.

Hot dog? Only if you let me tell you what the ingredients are.

Capri Sun? That's not really juice. You may as well have a red rope.

Cheet-os? Sorry, can't find them. But here's a Zone bar. You'll thank me later.

The tall, dark and handsome guy? Yeah, he's single. But let me tell you a few things. You'll thank me later, too.

A homerun? My son just hit a homerun?! Here, take him a bag of Cheet-os! Oh, and Pepsi too!

Hamburger? You don't want that. Aren't they serving hamburgers at your end-of-season party that's happening RIGHT NOW?

A cup of coffee? Starbucks is down the street. I'm pretty sure we've been out of Folger's since Opening Day.

And so it goes. The price of Little League participation.

I can guarantee three things at this point:

1. I will screw up royally on a transaction with the cash register. Hopefully, only once.

2. My ex will make at least one comment that will make me blush, while everyone else doubles over in laughter. And at some point, someone will ask - incredulously, "You guys aren't married? But you act like you are!"

3. Missing my son's last game will be disappointing but any lingering sadness will be quickly forgotten with a girls night out (if I don't collapse from exhaustion).

Wish me luck.