Oh good lord. I've turned into one of those parents.
I could give you a litany of all the things Q's baseball coach is doing wrong, but then there'd be no debate amongst you that I've become one of those parents. But gee whiz, by golly, these poor children. They have a record of 1 (one) win and 9 (nine) losses. The one win came against the team currently winning the division. It was a forfeit. The lousy coaching is just assuring that they do not win a game. And even more heinous, he's not playing Q enough as catcher. See? If there were any question of whether I am in the ranks of those parents, that should settle the issue. I can't tell you for sure when I made the transition, but I noticed I was fully there tonight. DH (darling husband) just laughed at me. I made a valient effort not to bite his head off. After all, we're talking youth baseball here. Good lord. Someone better come save me. Steve R. (aka TM) I'm expecting you to fully understand. Thank you.
In other news, I discovered the value of blisters today. I've got some lovely blisters, one on each foot, from walking too much in my flip-flops...which reminds me of a funny story from a neighbor about flip-flops, or thongs, as they are called in parts of the U.S. including these here parts; and in particular, this story is about crocheted thongs (aka flip-flops) which she bought for her daughter and which were recorded on the store receipt as "crocheted thong", which in turn caused her husband's eyebrows to pop up along with his excitement level when he saw the receipt until she figured out what in the hell a "crocheted thong" was doing on her receipt.
Anyway, decked out in band-aids and a bejeweled thong - I mean bejewled flip flops, I headed over to the cafeteria for my daily veggie sub, and realized I needed to walk slowly. Very slowly, to be more correct. It was the blisters you see. Or maybe the bejeweled thong, who knows? But the critical story element here is that I was forced to slow down. And you know, everything just changed as a result. It was very nice. I didn't rush through my well-worn routine of grabbing the sub and a diet Dr. Pepper in one fell swoop and paying the $3.30 to the same cashier I see every day as I grab napkins and a paper bag to stuff everything into and rush back to my office to eat at my desk. Instead, I calmly observed the nice flowers in front of the cafeteria as I slowly ambled up to the front steps. I spoke to a very nice lady at the mailbox about how gorgeous the day was. I even thought about getting a different lunch since I was forced out of my groove, but I love me my veggie sub. I looked the cashier in the eye and spoke to her for a few minutes. I enjoyed the nice Virginia air as I shuffled slowly back to the office. It does pay to slow down a little bit. Don't know why, really, that I'm in such a habit of rushing. I guess it's a focus on the goal rather than the path.
So good can even come from blisters, see? Or maybe it was the bejeweled thong that provided the magic. Hmm.
2 comments:
OMG.... Caitlin's team was the same way. They did win 2 games outright though. I totally understand your frustration about him not playing him enough. The situation that I was in that made me mad was that the girl that was playing in Caitlin's position was the coaches daughter and the coach told me, "I paid for all of her equipment and she's going to catch". She was probably the laziest catcher that I've ever seen and I tried so hard to get the coach to let them just compete with each other because it was a no brainer who the better one was, but he told me that "his wife wore the pants and told him to put their daughter behind the plate". Can you believe that garbage? So to make a short story long, I surely can understand your frustration and DH deserved to have his head bit off! LOL....
Ya'll take care.
Trouble maker.
What?! You don't have another pair of shoes to wear? You must be a stronger woman than I.
Q's baseball experience reminds me of K's soccer experience. Two years and not only no wins, but only one or two goals...and those both came towards the end of the second season. We no longer DO soccer.
And here I thought the thong v. flip-flop thing was a generational thing. I'm teaching myself not to refer to the shoes as thongs, since to my kids that means "underwear." Bejeweled undergarments sound nearly as painful as walking around with blisters, ya know? Sending quick blister healing vibes to you.
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