I think my family should win the suite at a Rockies game because we can fill it!

Let me put it this way: if my husband is the pitcher and I'm the catcher, then the bases are loaded and there are seven more hitters lined up to bat. Or perhaps this way: the pitcher is batting and he's already scored ten home runs.

You get the picture.

Feeding and clothing a family of ten kids requires certain skills. I've learned how to make a casserole that'll feed an army with two pounds of hamburger, an onion and whatever's left in the cupboard. I can tell you where to buy kids' shoes cheap. I can spot the "buy-one-get-one-free" signs at 100 yards. I can navigate a 15-passenger van through the drive-up lane at McDonald's like I'm an Olympic slalom skier and order a dozen burgers from the dollar menu before you can say "super-size." I can do all this while ignoring the slack-jawed stares from fellow McDiners.

Last summer, I heard about a great deal on some Rockies tickets. We revved up the monster van and said, "Hey kids, wanna share a box of Cracker Jacks and root, root, root for the Home Team?" Thinking we meant we had two-for-one deals on root beer floats, they naively climbed aboard.

It was one of those absolutely drop-dead gorgeous Colorado September days. The game opened with a military march-on and jet fly-over. The kids were hooked. Nine innings, four hours, and 25 pounds of peanuts later, the game ended. We had cheered the Rockies on as they scored 3 runs in the first inning to the Dodgers nil. The Dodgers woke up for the second and third innings and scored 4 runs each inning. The Rockies rallied in the fourth inning and scored an incredible 7 runs! We were stoked! The Home Team was ahead again, 10 to 8. We weren't able to maintain the advantage however, and the Rockies lost to the Dodgers that day, despite scoring 11 runs. Too bad the Dodgers had 19.

Unbeknownst to us, this was the last home game of the season. In accordance with the rubrics of baseball etiquette, this is the day of the Great Give-Aways. Nice people on the field began throwing gifts of t-shirts, hats, and other cool items to the sun-burned fans in the bleachers. My kids, knowing a good deal when they see one, began climbing over little old ladies to grab at the gifts. Each was able to walk away with some Rockies memorabilia that day. My newly minted Rockies fans, energized by their first taste of baseball, eagerly inquired as to the next time we would partake of the Great American Past Time. "Next season," I assured them.They smiled, hugged their many souvenirs, and drifted off to sleep as we headed for home.