I Think Golf Had the Right Idea

                    As a proud parent of athletic boys, I was a little surprised and dismayed to hear that high school sports participation is declining, not just in our area but across the country.

                    I’m sure that there are a variety of factors that have contributed to this decline: lack of funding and equipment, lack of volunteers for coaching, and the increase of digital consumption to name a few. But if I had to hazard a guess as to the main reason, it’s the parents.

                    In my experience as a sports parent and frequent spectator at these events, there are 4 main types of sports parents: The quiet supporter, the snowflake protector, the one living vicariously through their child, and the aggressive sports douche that you thought only existed in sports movies. (Surprise! They were actually based on real life events!)

                    Obviously, the quiet supporter is the parent that shows up to support their child and knows how to behave and be quiet. They aren’t there to make a spectacle, will never mutter a word related to “bad calls”, and the word “unfair” will never pass their lips. You’ll usually find them off to the side or sitting away from most of the crowd. They are there to watch their kid and enjoy the moment. 

                    Until the other 3 types of sports parents join the party. Yup, they are the entire reason why we can’t have nice things.

                    The snowflake protector is the parent who never thinks that their kid does anything wrong. They are the most perfect specimen and the standard that every other child should be measuring themselves against. Nothing is ever their fault, and they are never held accountable for their actions. These parents don’t promote learning teamwork because their snowflake is the most special and important player.  They are the type to go on social media and criticize coaches, teammates, and the world in general for ruining their kids’ experiences or demand meetings with school principals when poor grades or actions bench their kid.  

                    These parents think that they are doing their child a favor by being their “biggest cheerleader” when in fact, they are doing their child a huge disservice. This kid is going to be wholly unprepared for the real world that doesn’t give out participation trophies and only rewards those who put in the work. They are going to have problems with people in authority when mommy and daddy can’t be there to swoop in after “mistakes” to place the blame on someone else. They are going to grow up with a sense of entitlement, and the real world is going to say “Hold my beer” while it doles out a case of knocking this punk kid down a peg.

                    The vicarious parent is living through their child in one of two ways: Either they are reliving their former athletic glory days, or they were never athletic and wistful about it. (Cue sad montage of an awkward kid sitting on the sidelines, watching their classmates play sportsball while they are sad and pensive.) These parents are generally harmless but can be annoying in their overachieving need to have a great child athlete and like to coach from the sidelines. I once saw a parent tell their child to move their position on the baseball field that directly contradicted what the coach had told the kid. But since it was his dad, who was he to argue? (This is probably 85% of the frustration of being a youth sports coach.) These kinds of parents are the reason I mutter “Let the coaches coach” at least once per every single game I’ve ever attended.

                    Sometimes, however, the vicarious parent crosses over into aggressive sports douche territory. This is the parent who is yelling criticism at his kid during the game, loudly complaining about the ref’s calls, or making jeering comments about the opposing team’s players. These meatheads, male OR female, are the worst kind of people and sincerely need to be reminded that these are CHILDREN. An adult making negative commentary or insults about any child is just an abusive bully. Act your age and get a freaking grip. This is a sport with school aged participants. These kids aren’t pros. They aren’t being paid millions for their performance. They are being taught skills and teamwork by volunteers who are taking time away from their own lives and families. They are not asking to be berated by Donny D-bag whose only current skill is being loudly aggressive and a moron. Sometimes it’s Danielle D-bag getting in on the action though. Cheering too loudly when the opposing teams makes a bad play or when the pitcher strikes out a kid. There is a difference between being supportive and being passive aggressive. If your “cheerleading” relies on putting someone else down, well, that’s not support, that’s back into bullying territory.

                    I’d like to say that this is solely the behavior of high school sports parents, but it’s not. At my son’s most recent 12U baseball game, the opposing team’s coaches were berating their kids and the parents were aggressive in their whoops and cheers for an overthrow from our boys. It’s at that point that I just begin to feel sorry for those kids. What kind of example are those immature people setting? Do they think that yelling at the ref for his “bad calls” is helpful to their child's team? The refs, may I point out, that are also volunteering their time so that your kid can play this sport?

                    While I am fortunate enough to tune most of the negativity out, sometimes I tune back in to catch snippets of conversations that make me chuckle or scratch my head. I present the following gems that were overheard at my son's last game:

                    “I’m going to wear my house coat….AGAIN.” (Zero context for this, which made it even funnier.)

                    “Let’s go Killer!”

                    <Growling>

                    (Opposing coach to their pitcher) “Remember that game in coach pitch when I hit you because the sun was in your eyes? (Was this his version of a pep talk??)

                    “Put some sauce on that meatball!”

                    (Opposing coach in their dugout) “There needs to be a hero in every game.” (Way to teach teamwork champ. Eyeroll)

                    I really do think that golf is onto something by making their spectators be silent. And if they can’t put both their phone AND their mouth on silent, the bouncer gets to eject them from the viewing arena posthaste. Can somebody please make this happen?

 

Looking for additional mayhem?

Check me out on FaceBook at Modern Mom Mayhem.

Or over on Instagram (@modernmommayhem)

Maybe send an email to modernmommayhem@gmail.com.

Perhaps Medium League is More Apt

             This week marked the official start of the Little League season in our household. As with many other Northeast baseball parents, this means that we get sunburn one day and hypothermia the next. April, and sometimes much of May, are not for the faint of heart for outdoor sports in these parts. It's best to be prepared with your sunscreen, wool socks, portable fan, umbrella, and electric hand warmers to be on the safe side.

            This season is a little bittersweet as it's the last one's last one. (Translation: The last child is in his last year of little league.) Next year I won't have to worry about the chaos of trying to keep the book while simultaneously trying to keep 10 through 12 year old boys from killing each other. It's the last year of mouth fart noises and cliched sayings that I don't understand anymore because I'm old. It's the final year of dugout-momming.

            And I'm not going to lie and pretend that I signed up for this gig in the first place. My husband volun-told me to help out in the last one's first one. (Translation: The last child's first year in little league.) I remember how out of my league (pun intended) that I felt because a book nerd has no place in sports ball. Truth be told, the first week of every season brings that feeling back, though I now get over it a heck of a lot more quickly. So the irony of this final year being such a poignant moment, that I didn't even think I'd want to do, isn't lost on me.

            For any parent who coaches, dugout parents, or even just volunteers, I appreciate you. I don't even know you, I just know that you have the courage and grit to wade through those child infested grasslands and come out the victor. Because, as any parent who has chaperoned a field trip or been a classroom parent can tell you, it's a big job. It's like herding cats in an open cat nip field using only one arm and having both shoes untied.

            Ok, ok, so not ALL the games are like that. Just the ones that are on days ending in "y".

            Not to mention that there's something more feral about a gaggle of kids than a few. Once you multiply them past a handful, they become exactly that: a handful. They also seem to escalate their energy levels three notches past rambunctious. I'm not sure exactly what that level is called, but it does sometimes require an ibuprofen after 2 straight hours of exposure. 

            Even if you end up with a mostly great group of kids, there will always be one or two who will make you need the ibuprofen all on their own, no extra help needed. I'm guessing that these are the kids who are enrolled to "get the wiggles out" or who need to "channel that energy somewhere productive". This is, of course, parent code for "Oh my god, I just need a break. Please go be someone else's problem for 120 minutes."

             Not that I am familiar with this strategy at all. <awkward laugh>

            So if you see me in the next 2 months, just know that I am doing my best to stay sane. And if sometimes that looks like hiding in a quiet closet for 40 minutes to decompress on game nights, well, move over vacuum, I need some prime floor space.

Have some of your own chaperoning stories to share? Send me an email: modernmommayhem@gmail.com.

If you're looking for more mayhem, occasionally I remember to post on IG (modernmommayhem) or FaceBook (Modern Mom Mayhem)

            

Screen Shotting My Way to Mediocrity

             As a busy working mom of an athletic kid involved in year-round sports, sometimes I find my brain to be an unreliable source of information. I am not sure if I am just cramming too much data in there or if my processor has slow retrieval options, but it’s not as great of a system in my 40’s as it was in my 20’s.

Here is where my phone has come to the rescue. I’ve always embraced technology but admittedly never adopted it as a personality…like I have with my phone. Face it, if that’s lost, I don’t know anything anymore. Zero. Zip. Zilch. (And other z-words that mean nothing.)

But who can blame me? It’s a camera, an appointment calendar, a music player, an entertainment source, a bank, a vacation planner, a communication center, a television, and occasionally it’s even used as a telephone. This tiny little 6-inch box is pretty much my life made portable.

And while all that is great, it’s also enabling some bad habits. Most notably the screen shots. Of recipes. Jokes that I want to remember to tell a co-worker. Funny memes I want to post later. DIY projects. Gardening hacks. Online shopping receipts. More recipes. I might even have a picture or video on there. You know, using the camera function “old school” style.

Although this is super helpful sometimes, it also annoys the OCD side of me that constantly likes to declutter and organize. My camera roll is a haphazard mess of kid pictures, recipes that I’m convinced I’ll actually make, and random screen shots of things that I don’t want to forget, but will also probably never look at again.

Every once in a while the OCD troll comes out and decides to clean up the camera roll by going on a deleting frenzy or writing the recipes down on a paper and putting them into the recipe binder, thus increasing the chances that I might actually try them. In order for this to happen though,  there’s usually some sort of down time component involved (or a frenetic cleaning spree) and lately I haven’t found that elusive down time. I’ve tried penciling it in multiple times but keep having to reschedule. So annoying.

Until I find a better plan, however, I guess I’ll continue to screen shot my way to greatness. Or if not greatness, mid-level okay at least. Perhaps one day my brain’s internal storage drive will get an upgrade, maybe take some St. John’s Wort or ginko biloba or whatever. Let's be honest, unless a breakthrough in human CPU capacity is discovered or I find the lottery cure for free time, memory supplements are probably my only hope.

 

 

 

Need a dash more mayhem? Find me on FaceBook at Modern Mom Mayhem.

During blue moons I’m on Instagram (@modernmommayhem)

Or send me an email to modernmommayhem@gmail.com.

I'm Prone to Finding Rabbit Holes

             I seem to have a knack for finding new rabbit holes to fall into. I'm not sure if it has anything to do with my propensity to leisure scroll or if I just have an unknown and useless talent. (Perhaps both?)

            One of the most recent spirals was the "AITA" forums. If you don't know what AITA stands for, it's "Am I The A$$hole". (Honestly, I feel like if you have to ask...)

            Generally, these people will post on a forum like Reddit, or some other forum that shall not be named (mostly because I don't know any others). Then, because this is the age of video media someone will make a channel devoted to reading these stories and giving their opinion of the assholishness. Sometimes they have ratings or cool red flag graphics, but they are generally just time wasting videos that kill brain cells if you watch too many in a row. (Brain cells are overrated, right?)

            If you ever want to lose faith in humanity real fast, listen to some of these AITA stories. I swear to God, I thank my lucky stars that I don't have to deal with the level of dipshittery that these authors have, because there's ALWAYS someone who definitely is an A-hole, regardless of whether it's the OP (the person who posted it) or the one the story is about (the culprit 91% of the time). Sometimes there are multiple D-bags in a single story. (Yikes, you need to surround yourself with better humans, STAT!)

            I thought that I was pretty much a realist, but these posts show me that I really live in a rose-colored glasses kind of world. I'm just la-la-la'ing my way through life compared to what some of these people deal with on a daily basis. Toxic mother-in-laws seem to be so prevalent that I am praying to ALL the gods that I will be a better M-I-L to the partners that my kids choose. Some of the things that have been posted are not even borderline bad, but straight over-the-line-by-a-mile evil. 

            The second most stories are about controlling or abusive behavior from partners or family and generally within the first paragraph you have identified 11 red flag behavior patterns. These just make my heart sad for the people being victimized. Sometimes I can't finish hearing them and have to scroll on until I reach the vacation or foodie part of my algorithm again. 

           I think that my main takeaway from all of these stories are:

           1.) There are there are a lot of stupid and/or entitled people in the world.

                (Holy crap. So many.)

           2.) Victim blaming is a competitive sport.

                (Some of these people have gold medal level blame skills.) 

           3.) There are a lot of dysfunctional families out there.

                (Don't worry, they put the "FUN" in dysfunction.)

           4.) People are really unsupportive of the humans in their life.

               (Like 1,000% unsupportive.)

            5.) With friends & family like these, who need enemies?

                (Please watch your back in all AITA scenarios for quality assurance purposes.)

            Sometimes these videos make me feel like humanity is screwed and we are in desperate need to have Mr. Rogers back as soon as possible. I need reincarnation to be real and he needs to make a cardigan-ed appearance NOW.

            Alternatively, does anyone know a good voodoo priestess? (Unrelated to the urgency of the previous request of course.)

Want to extend our mayhem together? I can be found on FaceBook and IG. (modernmommayhem)

Want to tell me your AITA story? Send an email: modernmommayhem@gmail.com. 

Contrary to Popular Belief

             I’m probably going to make a lot of people mad when I say this, but…I don’t like tacos. Actually, let me re-phrase that. I don’t like traditional tacos. I’ve had brisket and pulled pork and chicken BLT tacos and they were all amazing. But regular old Taco Tuesday does nothing for me.

This alone isn’t really that shocking. I mean, tons of people have food preferences and it’s not really an earth-shattering revelation. But I also don’t like iced coffee. Or Taylor Swift’s music. Or margaritas. Or those Stanley cups. I didn’t watch The Tiger King or Squid Game. I didn’t participate in the Ice Bucket Challenge, or take part in the Dubai chocolate movement, and I think the fashion trends are mostly ugly and uncomfortable.

All of which makes me wonder if my subconscious is contrary on accident or if it is on purpose? I am in favor of embracing what makes a person unique, but going out of your way to avoid popular trends seems counterintuitive. (Yet apparently, on brand for me.)

Perhaps it’s because I’m a Gen X. Or because I’m a “stubborn” Taurus. Eldest daughter syndrome maybe? Or is it that this trifecta has culminated in a perfect storm of “You’re not going to tell me what I like”. Because that’s what it really boils down to, right? Bucking the general consensus that is trying to dictate what society likes at a specific moment in time?

I think I just accidentally shrunk my own head and explained my entire life to myself. Hold on a minute while I recover.

Okay, reloading...

Every time I wish that I conformed to societal norms, do I really only have myself to blame? Like when I'm annoyed that I can't buy the shirt that says "Buy me tacos and tell me I'm pretty?" because I don't want tacos. Yeah, I like to joke that I’m petty but if it’s inherently an ingrained trait that I haven’t had to consciously cultivate, I think that brings it to a whole new level of petty. I don’t even think that’s a strong enough word description. Is there a pettier word for petty? Pettyful? Pettytastic? Super-cali-fragi-listic-petty-ala-docious?

Personally, I might be a little proud that my individualistic tendencies are so strong that I don’t even have to put thought into them. I subconsciously reject all super-pop culture on principle. (Which to be honest, requires less mental effort and keeps my mental load lighter, so why would I ever complain?)

Plus, it’s not like I’ve ever been “normal”. I have always marched to the beat of my own drum. I have encouraged my kids to do the same. Normal is overrated and quite frankly, extremely boring. Would you rather hang out with the friend who talks about the weather and current events or the one who is slightly unhinged and you never know what they’re going to say next? I know which one I’d choose, and choose to be, so if you choose door number 1, we are not the same.

For all my fellow odd ducks, black sheep, and anti-followers, I hope you find your tribe. May they find your eccentricities endearing, your quirks to be par for the course, and your individuality inspiring.

 Now pardon me while I try to find a shirt that says:

Buy me books, and tell me I'm pretty weird.

 

Looking for other mayhem?

Check FaceBook at Modern Mom Mayhem.

Perhaps on Instagram (@modernmommayhem)

Or send an email to modernmommayhem@gmail.com.