It keeps going...and going....and going...
Oops, I took a week off. Not that I was on vacation or anything. Actually, the lead-up to summer vacation for the kids leads to a lot of hard work on my part. First I had to finish Eve's giraffe project, then I had to help Angus make up a disco dance to Stayin' Alive - will somebody tell me why we're still in school? The report card marks are all in, it's a million degrees in the shade, and the teachers are assigning silly make-work stuff that I end up doing most of because, in addition to everything else, the weeks of rain at the beginning of the spring baseball season mean that baseball is STILL GOING, which is okay for Angus since he'd sleep in his hat and glove if I let him, but Eve and I are SO DONE. Partly because we keep losing - she's in rookie, which means it's coach pitch, and our coaches can't. Which is not their fault, they're volunteers and it's a hard job, but there it is. She's usually a really good hitter, and this year she was in a terrible slump, and I have no eye for this kind of thing, so I had to wait for Matt to take her to a game and come home and say "um, it's because of the crappy pitching", which was a bit of a relief, but still kind of a bummer because naming the problem was very decidedly not going to make it go away.
So now we're in playoffs (a week later than we should be). The end is in sight. In fact, if we lost last night we wouldn't have to play our game tonight, we'd go straight to the week-end. I don't want to say Eve and I were looking forward to losing but, um, it's really hot and and we're both tired and... anyway...
Of course they frigging won. Eleven to two. Eve was on fire. She played first base and got someone out. She played second base and got someone out. She got a hit. Everyone got a hit. I don't know if the coaches were pitching better or we just got lucky and the other coaches couldn't pitch either and their players didn't get lucky. Eve reluctantly admitted that winning was kind of cool, even thought she's less than impressed about having to play again tonight. We stopped at the ice cream truck on the way to the car (which was kind of rewarding bad behaviour on the part of the ice cream truck guy - who the hell parks right outside the baseball diamond and sits there playing the song for two innings while a bunch of six-to-eight-year-old kids are supposed to be concentrating on baseball? Actually, the other team was a little closer to the ice cream truck - maybe he won it for us) and the guy asked her if she was on the winning team and we both almost said no without even thinking.
There's also the fact that having the only girl on a baseball team full of six-to-eight-year-old boys pretty much ensures that you have the best-behaved kid on the team. The unfortunate corollary to this is that you end the season pretty much ready to wring the neck of every other player. Seriously -- you were just asked not to kick the gravel for the fourteenth time and look, three seconds later you're kicking the damned gravel again? Really? Hey you, you're playing second base, stand up. Stand up. Stand up. Stand up. No really, you have to stand up. Um, any chance you could stop throwing that helmet against the fence? No? Okay, cool.
So if they have baseball they don't really have time to do homework. So I just do the damned homework because at this point I just don't care any more. They keep asking if they can just skip the rest of school and I keep saying no, partly because I'm afraid they'll miss something fun because shouldn't they just be doing fun stuff now? and partly because it's like a rule that you have to go to school, and I'm all about the rules (except the one where you don't do your kids' homework). But I'm weakening.
So now we're in playoffs (a week later than we should be). The end is in sight. In fact, if we lost last night we wouldn't have to play our game tonight, we'd go straight to the week-end. I don't want to say Eve and I were looking forward to losing but, um, it's really hot and and we're both tired and... anyway...
Of course they frigging won. Eleven to two. Eve was on fire. She played first base and got someone out. She played second base and got someone out. She got a hit. Everyone got a hit. I don't know if the coaches were pitching better or we just got lucky and the other coaches couldn't pitch either and their players didn't get lucky. Eve reluctantly admitted that winning was kind of cool, even thought she's less than impressed about having to play again tonight. We stopped at the ice cream truck on the way to the car (which was kind of rewarding bad behaviour on the part of the ice cream truck guy - who the hell parks right outside the baseball diamond and sits there playing the song for two innings while a bunch of six-to-eight-year-old kids are supposed to be concentrating on baseball? Actually, the other team was a little closer to the ice cream truck - maybe he won it for us) and the guy asked her if she was on the winning team and we both almost said no without even thinking.
There's also the fact that having the only girl on a baseball team full of six-to-eight-year-old boys pretty much ensures that you have the best-behaved kid on the team. The unfortunate corollary to this is that you end the season pretty much ready to wring the neck of every other player. Seriously -- you were just asked not to kick the gravel for the fourteenth time and look, three seconds later you're kicking the damned gravel again? Really? Hey you, you're playing second base, stand up. Stand up. Stand up. Stand up. No really, you have to stand up. Um, any chance you could stop throwing that helmet against the fence? No? Okay, cool.
So if they have baseball they don't really have time to do homework. So I just do the damned homework because at this point I just don't care any more. They keep asking if they can just skip the rest of school and I keep saying no, partly because I'm afraid they'll miss something fun because shouldn't they just be doing fun stuff now? and partly because it's like a rule that you have to go to school, and I'm all about the rules (except the one where you don't do your kids' homework). But I'm weakening.
Comments
I will tell you this: I was on a slo-pitch team for two years in uni, and that was because I was in economics and there were almost no women and the slo-pitch rule was three women on the field at all times. I was the worst player on the team, by far. BY FAR. But our team actually won the championships one year and that was the game that I caught the ball. The one time in two years that I caught a ball. My whole team cheered and luckily it was a third out because I had no idea what to do with the ball once I caught it.
Oh! And one year I took a line drive to the throat and ended up in the ER. Luckily it was just a bruised voicebox and not a collapsed windpipe, as they feared. NOT ATHLETIC ME.
I feel a little bad for the coaches who can't pitch. Do you think they know? If I was a coach, I'd be dying of embarrassment every time I had to pitch and show off my terrible throwing skills (I received a N for Needs Improvement for throwing in Gym as a kid). The last time I pitched a game, the batter hit the ball directly into my face, which was possibly as painful as it was embarrassing.
Kyle had a research paper to do at the end of the school year, and I had him do it on his own. After he finally got the thing finished and went to bed, I went to print it out for him...then ended up staying up past midnight writing an introductory paragraph and concluding paragraph because he didn't do it...arg! I told him it was our secret...and woohoo WE made a B :) I know more about Jackie Robinson than I want to..just sayin'
Now are you going to tell me there's no Santa Claus?
*sigh* I just do NOT get organized sports. But buying an ice cream treat for your kid? I totally understand that.