A Day In My Life – The World Can Take Care Of Itself 

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I’m done being supportive and encouraging. I’ve neglected myself for long enough. I’m taking August off to take care of myself. 

It’s stressful times for oil families in Canada. We’ve been through the ringer and back. And just when we think things are getting better, they get worse again. It’s been this way for almost three years. The stress is starting to make me feel ill. Literally. 

Summer holidays is when every parent realizes how underpaid our teachers truly are. On top of doing what we normally do every day, now we have to entertain the kids that are home during summer. This is not an easy task. I don’t know who said it first, but the saying is true – trying to clean your house while the kids are home is like brushing your teeth while eating Oreos. No truer words have ever been spoken. 

I’ve been dealing with grown-out hair roots for months because I’ve been too busy to get my ass to the salon. I avoid mirrors and live in hats right now. I wear the same active baseball mom capris every day with oversized t-shirts. I’ve only worn one summer dress this year. It’s time for me to take care of myself and feel better about myself. Because that hasn’t happened yet this year. When you’re busy, taking care of yourself is always the last on the list. 

But no more. I’ve dealt with enough bullshit in the past few months from everyone and it’s time for me to take a step back. I have a hair appointment soon to fix my roots. I have a stack of books that are about to be read. And my headphones are about to get used so much that the money I paid for them will be worth it. 

I’m tapping out for the month of August. The world will just have to take care of itself because I’ll be busy taking care of me

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Managing My Home Plate – Practice Number One

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It was the first practice for my son’s competitive baseball team last night and I’m already disgusted. The head coach and I are not on good terms.

Some background for you; we’ve had Coach Marv as a hockey coach in our first year of initiation. I was the team manager, so I worked closely with him as a mediator between him and the parents. MM coached with him. Coach Marv was not a favourite coach in the division for good reason. One of those reasons was because he is one of those guys who treated 5 year olds like they are 15 and now 9 year olds like they’re 19. He was tolerable back then because there were always 5 coaches on the ice and we, as parents, didn’t have to deal with him directly most of the time.

As well, our sons are friends. They’ve been friends since the first day in kindergarten and they remain friends to this day. That was almost 5 years ago. There have been numerous sleepovers and both boys have played at each other’s houses on a regular basis. Because the boys are friends, we’ve become friends with Coach Marv and his now ex-wife, Jenn. They’ve recently divorced, but we remain friends with both of them.

We are friends. On some kind of inexplicable level. But that would be an overstatement. Because I’ve had it with him. He’s an asshole. I’ve always known it, but I chose to ignore it or laugh it off. Until now.

When I found out he was head of the 9 year old baseball division this year, I was a little disappointed because he’s known to take on too much and do too little. But, because we knew that Coach Matt and Coach Wally were also coaching, we were relieved. I was hoping that Wally and Matt would take over most of the duties on the team because they’re capable, intelligent, and sports-oriented. I knew my son would learn a lot from them. My personal hope was that Coach Marv would fade to the background and we wouldn’t even notice him.

I was wrong.

Coach Wally was out of town last night so Marv actually had to do some coaching. He didn’t seem too impressed about it when he commented to me, “I spend way too much time at this damn diamond.” To which I half-jokingly replied, “yeah, but you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t love it!” He grunted and then walked away.

While Marv was writing some notes on his clipboard as the kids were warming up in the outfield, I told Marv that my son was playing at tryouts while he was sick and I didn’t realize it until afterwards. I explained that I kept my son home from school for two days afterwards and that he missed his basketball tournament on Saturday. “He must really wanna play ball,” I stated with a smile, proud of my son’s dedication to baseball.

Marv didn’t even look me in the eye when he muttered, “well, he better not miss any ball practices.”

I was stunned. How fucking rude! My jaw dropped, I stood up from my lawn chair, and I looked him in the eye. “Seriously?? That’s what you have to say to me?? We’re done here, Marv.”

And then I walked the fuck away.

Not a good start to the season.