All around America little children were crying this weekend, shitting their pants, and refusing to follow rules.
Was it the first day of preschool or lots of really bad playdates?
It was “Opening Day” of baseball of course!!!
Things have improved a lot since the kids were little, but there are a lot of things that have stayed the same. There’s still a good bit of crying. There’s crying because they strike out, because they get hit with a pitch, because they don’t play the position that they want, crying because they think the umpire made a bad a call, and of course, they cry when they lose.
God I wish Tom Hanks would visit Goopville.
Besides all of the crying – there are a few other tell-tale signs that baseball season has begun:
YOU CANNOT KEEP UP WITH THE LAUNDRY:
Laundry is not my forte during any season, so this constant washing of important mandatory clothing is very stressful. Over the years, I have learned to be very efficient with the baseball uniform situation. Despite my efforts, it doesn’t always work out. The children have strict instructions to enter the house and immediately strip naked and throw the clothes into the laundry room. The clothes include their shirt (they only are given one) pants, sliding shorts, a belt, hat and cup. Daily scrubbing and washing of baseball pants is imperative. I have 2-3 pairs per kid, and still struggle to keep up. More than once I have woken up in the night in a cold sweat realizing that I forgot to wash the game pants and run down to the basement with a stain stick just in time.
NOBODY KNOWS WHERE THEIR CUP IS:
Every day before a practice or game, Mr. Gaga is in the driveway honking the horn and me and my kids are running up and down stairs, digging through closets, screaming and crying, because none of us knows where the “cups” are. When they first started playing they would come home and leave the cup on the kitchen table or somewhere else that was a clear hygienic disaster.
Because I don’t enjoy preparing or eating meals next to their sweaty dick protectors, I have told them to put them somewhere else. Preferably somewhere that they can find them again. That seems to be a request that is too difficult in this household.
We now own 4 cups, because I had a great idea to have extra-backup cups, but this has proven to be fruitless. Instead of 2 lost cups every day – we now have 4 lost cups.
The last time this happened i gave up. I said, defeatedly over the roar of Mr. Gaga’s honking horn, “There’s nothing we can do – you have to leave and you just have to pray that you don’t get a penis injury.”
Michael stared back at me with horror, “Well it can’t break right?”
“Yes – it actually can – and also you won’t be able to have children.” I answered matter-of-factly.
That was the last day that Michael couldn’t find his cup. Fingers crossed that this continues.
HEALTHY SNACKS AND BEVERAGES ARE OUT THE WINDOW:
Today one son came home at 6 PM eating an ice cream sandwich, the other had a bag of Doritos and a huge Gatorade. It’s dinner-time but apparently during baseball season – it’s acceptable to just give children inappropriate food and drink at inappropriate times.
It starts the first week when you get an email from the “TEAM MOM” who is busy organizing the drink assignments. This is when you get assigned a week when you are in charge of delivering a humongous cooler filled with Gatorade to the team to keep them “hydrated.”
I’m sorry – do we live in Cancun or Connecticut?
Are children so tired and thirsty that they need these huge chemical-ridden beverages?
Are children’s electrolytes that depleted that they need to consume large lemon-lime beverages filled with poison?
I don’t believe in sodas and sports drinks and they are banned from my household – but magically just because “TEAM MOM” fails to read or watch DR. OZ – she has arranged things so that my children are suddenly downing flame retardant disguised as a “sports drink” necessary to getting through the game.
Our kids are soft Connecticut kids that are playing spring baseball for an hour.
They don’t deserve a sports drink. They barely deserve water.
CHILDREN EAT 3 DINNERS:
The timing is usually such that they need to be at the field by 4:30 and they won’t be home until after 8 PM. They are starving after school and they eat a normal snack. Then they want to eat more so they won’t be hungry during the game so on the ride over they consume another huge “snack” to hold them over. A chicken cutlet or meatball sandwich or some nuggets are consumed. Then they come home throw their cup somewhere that we will never remember and announce that they are “starving!” Another dinner now needs to be readily available because we still have to do homework and showers.
The crock pot and fast food restaurants are used steadily until mid-June.
THERE’S A TROPHY:
I came home at the end of basketball this year, and noticed when I entered our “trophy room” that the amount of trophies that my children have accrued has become ridiculous.
If you are currently thinking “Wow – your kids must be amazing 9 and 11-year-old athletes to receive this many trophies!”
The answer to that would be “No – they suck…but this is the amount of trophies and awards that children receive in today’s world of overindulgence excessive accolades.”
PARENTS PRETEND THAT THEIR CHILD IS GOING TO BE DRAFTED TO THE MAJORS:
You know the type – the guy who coaches all the teams and screams and swears and acts like a complete douchebag. He argues with the umpire. He gets totally stressed out on the sidelines. The guy that actually never played baseball in highschool or college, but was in fact just a huge nerd and now he thinks he knows everything. This guy that is living vicariously through his child and your child, that has unrealistic expectations of how this will all work out.
I have an announcement to make Goopville:
NOBODY IS GOING TO THE MAJORS!!
YOU DIDN’T MAKE IT TO A MAJOR LEAGUE TEAM. IT IS VERY LIKELY NEITHER WILL YOUR KID.
ACCEPT IT AND BEHAVE LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN.
These people act like complete maniacs. They clutch their heads in despair as they watch from the sidelines, they pace back and forth and yell at their kids as thought their lives and futures depend upon their performance on the baseball fields filled with ten-year-olds.
Several sources (Ad Counsel, etc) have suggested that 1 in 16,000 HS players make the Majors. In most towns less than half of 12 y/o’s make the HS team. That would suggest a number somewhere upwards of 1 out of every 32 thousand kids that play in youth leagues will make the majors!!!
Nobody wants to believe these facts. They send the kids to baseball camps and sign them up for travel teams in the fall, spring and summer. Some kids are in more than one league so they arrive to their second games tired and winded.
What is the point of all of this?
It’s just a game after all. Somehow parents across America have lost sight of that and it’s sad and pathetic.
IT’S JUST A “GAME” THAT RULES OUR LIFE TILL JUNE!!! PLEASE SHARE ON FACEBOOK FOR ALL OF THE BASEBALL MOM AND DADS – XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA