Managing My Home Plate – Why Are People So Rude??

Standard

I have had it with people today. Everyone has been so fucking rude and demanding. 

And, to think, my day started off so well…

I woke up this morning to a text from one of the baseball moms telling me she knows it may be too late, but could I order a Team shirt for her son. No problem, that’s what I do because I’m the team manager. After a short conversation about our kids, I texted, I hope you guys have a great weekend! And she texted back that I was such a kind and thoughtful person for letting her order a shirt late. I indulged in the compliment for a few moments and smiled my way through the rest of this god damned day. 

Fast-forward to this afternoon. My son and I had some errands to run so we got MM to drop us off at the mall near our house. I ran into my aunt who asked for my son’s baseball schedule because she’s hoping to catch a game. I told her about the up-coming home tournament in July and gave her the dates. She told me to text her that weekend to remind her. I explained that I would try, but I couldn’t guarantee anything because MM coaches, son plays on two baseball teams and is on the field 5 days a week, and I manage the competitive team so we’re kinda busy and it might slip my mind. Right there, in the middle of the mall, she started scolding me about family obligations. To which I thought to myself, are you fucking kidding me right now?? The friend who was with my aunt, must have seen me roll my eyes into next week because she looked at my aunt and said, “maybe you could put it in your phone calendar so that you’ll remember.” Like a lightbulb going on, she lit up and replied, “oh, yeah, I guess I could.” And on that note, my son and I left. My mood had shifted. 

Then, when MM picked us up at the mall, I told him we were running late and that maybe he should go do what he needed to do and come back for us. For the second consecutive day, he snapped at me. To which I put him in his place and told him to stop being so damn rude. He snapped that he had about two hours of work ahead and he couldn’t waste time because he has a lot on his plate. Well, so do I. Everybody does. It’s called adulting. I explained to him that he didn’t have to be so mean just because he’s having a bad day. So the rest of our shopping trip was ruined by everyone’s bad moods. 

Don’t kid yourself into thinking that my day was over yet. The rude people in my life never fucking end. I’m starting to think I surround myself with the wrong kind of people. I sense a change coming in the near future. But I digress. 

After we dropped the kid off at his friends place for a sleepover, we were close to our old house so we thought we’d take a drive through our old neighbourhood. We noticed one of our old neighbours in her yard and stopped to say hello. As soon as she saw me, she squeezed my arm and said, “my goodness, you’ve put on some weight since you left the neighbourhood!” This woman obviously does not have a filter about anything. She’s critical, judgmental, and down-right rude. Thanks, mean neighbour lady, for reminding me that 40 has not been kind to me. The wrinkles, the weight, the grey hair…I mean, it’s not like I see it in the mirror every morning and I had almost forgotten. Seriously though, it’s been hard, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not a waif-ish, anorexic 97lbs anymore. Age has a way of forcing you to accept the things you cannot change. Instead of starving myself, I’m now a healthy, happy yoga-loving 110lbs. This is who I am, lady. Accept me or go the fuck away. And thanks again for reminding me why I wanted to leave that community of judgey seniors.

Demanding, judgmental, self-absorbed, and fucking mean – these are the people I’ve had to deal with today. But I’m holding onto my morning conversation with the baseball mom because her conversation was the only one that has mattered to me. And I am grateful for that. 

Namaste, MFers. 

Rainy Baseball Days

Standard

Let the good times roll!

The mound has been covered for days. It’s been raining all week and the practices haven’t been cancelled. It rained the first week of baseball as well, but the coaches were more inclined to cancel when the weather wasn’t warm (maybe because the kids weren’t used to it yet…?).

Some parents are bitching about the weather or the lack of play their kid is getting. Other parents are late to every practice and game. And everyone has an opinion on what everyone else is doing. I knew this was going to happen, but I still refuse to be part of it.

Instead, I’m focusing on something more important. I see a kid who found his true love in life at the age of nine. I see a kid who has practiced in the wind and rain and felt as though it was the “best practice ever!” I’ve seen a kid win games and shine or lose games and shake it off quickly. I see a kid who has fallen in love with the game of baseball like he’s never fallen before.

I’m so proud of my son. He hasn’t missed a practice or a game and he has cried – literally cried! – when there were two cancellations due to rain or scheduling conflicts. He’s told me he’s learned so much in only a few short weeks and I believe him. I believe him because I can see the changes in him on a weekly basis. For example, the other night, we got home and my son was literally jumping up and down when he explained that he finally knows how to pitch a ball properly. That’s all it took – for the coaches to show him how to hold a ball and pitch. His happiness seems so simple. And that makes me happy.

At the last practice, he stood on the mound for pitching practice and I noticed a strange look on his face, one of disappointment and sadness because he wasn’t pitching to the best of his ability. The coach walked over to my son, had a few words, tapped him encouragingly on the brim of his hat, and then walked back to the catchers position. It was like a lightbulb went on and suddenly my kid was throwing strikes. Strike after strike after strike, this kid was nailing it! I swelled with pride. I said a silent prayer of thanks to the coach.

And then it was off to the batting cages. Without much prompting, my kid nailed it again. Hit after hit, his new bat seemed to work perfectly well. He seems to have found his natural talent and he’s taking full advantage of it. At one point, as we sat having dinner one night, he mentioned that instead of hockey, he’d prefer to find a winter baseball league. In our small community, winter consists of hockey and curling…that’s it. He was seriously disappointed when realized he couldn’t play baseball all year long.

I remember the feeling of finding the thing you’re meant to do. I was 11 years old. My son found his at age 9. I remember the swelling in my chest as my heart beat a little faster with my successes. And I remember the bitter disappointment and the ambition to get better with my failures. It was like I knew what I was meant to do. And I see the same thing in my son. The realization and recognition is written all over his face. 

Maybe some day he’ll play in the MLB like he wants to or maybe he won’t. It doesn’t matter to me. But I know we have a lot of years of baseball ahead. As long as he’s happy, I’m here to support and encourage him through the sunshine and the rain.