Baseball Practice – Day 1

February 14, 2009 at 10:40 am (Baseball, Brody, Evan, Michael, STOOPID)

Michael decided to sign the boys up for baseball this season. I’m fine with the boys playing sports, in fact, I encourage it. However, I really think you need to find out all the details before you make the leap. You need to find out how much it’s going to cost, when the games are, where you’ll be practicing… the list goes on.

It all started with the registration fee…

Michael assumed it would be around $40 to sign them up for the 3 month season. In fact, it was $125 per boy. He seemed shocked and appalled when I told him I wasn’t paying for half because I was not aware of the large amount of money needed for registration. He had his mom sign the boys up because of her address (I never got this either… don’t you play where you are supposed to play?) – so she walked in, plunked down the $250 and then advised Michael of the amount. Uh… sorry, but I’m not having any part of that at all.  Please note, this amount does not include shoes, gloves (which Evan calls glubs), bats, balls, etc.  Not once did he talk to me about the cost – he said he didn’t know – isn’t that something you find out beforehand?

Today is the first practice, it’s pouring outside. Raindrops as big as Evan’s head are falling down hard. He started trying to get them dressed at 8:30. Phinneas and Ferb was on, which is their favorite show, and neither boy was moving. The morning went something like this:

8:30 am – Mike says “come on boys, let’s get dressed.”  He then jumps in the shower while leaving them parked in front of the tv. (DUH)

8:40 am – “come on boys, let’s get dressed.” He starts getting dressed.

8:50 – “boys, we’re leaving in 20 minutes, come on let’s get dressed.”

Much commotion ensues, Brody cannot find his penis shield (his words), he cannot find the “exercise shorts” that the cup fits into. Evan doesn’t want to get dressed by his own self, he demands that his father help him. Brody is running around naked looking for the shorts – still can’t find the cup. Finally figures out the shorts were put into the dirty laundry basket and dumps that on the floor. Finds the shorts and promptly complains they smell like pee. DEMANDS that I wash them (uh.. no) and I said there isn’t time, he’ll just have to wear normal underwear. MUCH CRYING ENSUES. Evan, miraculously, is dressed and ready to put on his cleats. Let’s remember that these are little boys playing baseball… it’s raining buckets outside – do we think we are practicing today? Is there really a need for cleats?

Brody is still naked and smoke is coming out of Michael’s ears. He is demanding that Brody wear regular underwear – Brody is refusing and is still having an absolute FIT.

9:10 am – Michael can’t find the keys to his truck. He’s lost them (a small poll, who is shocked?) The boys lost the spare set (his words… he let the boys play with the spare set, they lost them – it’s their fault, not his – the adult who thought it was okay for 2 kids to have the keys to his truck).

9:15 am – Brody is still not dressed, Michael has not been able to locate the keys to his truck. Melodie is watching this scenario and secretly giggling inside. She knows where her car keys are – including the spare set!

9:20 am – Brody is dressed! HUZZAH! Michael has not found his keys and begs to use my car. I give in, because of the boys. I help Brody put on his cleats (that he will wear inside the ferry building, which has concrete floors and will most likely be wet because of all the other little boys in their regular shoes)

9:24 am – The boys leave the house, hoping to get to the building by 9:30 to meet with the coach.

Ahh… I love it when a plan comes together. Meanwhile, Michael’s stress level is probably through the roof. The problem is, he could have had everything organized and ready to go – last night. But last night, he surfed the net and watched tv. WHICH IS SO TYPICAL!

I have to say, there are parts of him (and parts of our marriage) that I am going to miss. The unorganized mess that controls his life is not going to be missed at all.


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Is that any way to answer a question?

January 30, 2009 at 10:33 am (Ranting, STOOPID, Train)

I overheard two men talking on the train this morning. One guy asked the other “how are you?” the man responded ‘well, it’s Friday.’  I had to turn my head to see the bumpus that spoke those words.  What exactly does that mean? That is no way to answer a question. I find this so irritating! Just answer the question! Don’t make us guess how you are feeling – or is it that you think no one gives a crap anyway?

People usually don’t believe me when I tell them I am incredibly shy. I am slowly earning self esteem, but I really don’t have the confidence in myself to start a conversation etc.  Fortunately, I had parents who forced me to have good social skills. They forced me to be nice to people, to look people in the eye when I had conversations with them. I feel I was lucky to have parents who cared what other people thought.  My parents wanted to have kids who were well liked – mom always said it was for our sake. I think she knew it would make our lives easier. There were societal standards to live up to. Expectations. Consequences for our actions. She was right.

I am raising my children with those same expectations. When someone asks you a question, you can answer any way you feel, but you must say something. Because of this, my children respond when people ask them questions. They know how to order food in a restaurant; they know how to ask for more water; they are well liked. I am also teaching my children how to be comfortable NOT answering a question. That it is okay for them to say “I don’t want to answer that question.” They may not be rude about it, they must use their manners – but no one is going to force them to answer a question they aren’t comfortable answering. This may not be relevant to their age today, but it will be relevant later in life. Not only will they know how to be respectful of the other person, but more importantly they will be conscious and respectful  of their own feelings.

In today’s society, nobody gives a shit anymore. You can answer a question with “well, it’s Friday” and get away with it. I think it’s crap.

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