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.

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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.

 

 

 

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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.)

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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.

 

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