Friday, June 9, 2017

Life Goal: Treasure Little League. Insurmountable Obstacle: Little League is Boring AF

Childhood is a brief, magical time. A fleeting time in which each special moment should be cherished, documented, scrap-booked, and reflected upon later with a wistful tear in a mother's eye, knowing she did everything she could to Be Present and Make the Most of every joyous second.

There's a problem with this model though. 

Many, MANY of those seconds are boring as all ever-loving fuck, especially when they are spent watching an entering first-grader's Little League game.

To be sure, it's hard to cherish the interstitial moments between sports, performances, and other activities. The moments when your son screams that his sister CRUSHED MY NUTS, she retorts that he is THE STUPIDEST PERSON EVER BORN ON EARTH, and bedtime feels like an adult-kidnapping perpetrated by Lilliputian mobsters. 

In those moments, I don't even try to cherish anything. I just go to my happy place where I'm still 22 and single, and my only responsibility is to pay rent in a shitty apartment, show up to a dead-end job every day so I can write the rent check, and make sure I don't miss my period and end up ruining the party.

For me, it's challenging enough to sit through the average professional baseball game, much less an hour and twenty minutes of two dozen 6-8 year-old boys picking their noses in the outfield and slamming a ball off a tee or a pitching machine. Also, you can tell that every dad is dealing with a bunch of deep-seeded psychological boyhood trauma that they'd be much better off confronting directly in therapy, rather than vicariously through their offspring on a dusty, mosquito-infested baseball diamond adjacent to an elementary school playground. 

I find this particular thought very distracting. In fact, my thought process at Little League goes something like this: 

OMG the kids are so cute in these uniforms. OMG I love that my kid's team is sponsored by "Inside Passage Midwifery." OMG I am never going to be snack mom and I seriously cannot pay attention to this AT ALL. OMG every single one of these dads desperately needs a good long cry in a therapist's office. OMG let me look at my phone to find out what Trump did now. OMG did I just miss my kid's at-bat looking at what Cheeto Satan is doing. OMG I hate myself so much. OMG can I go home now. OMG when is this over. OMG there are literally 45 minutes left. OMG how is that possible.

That about sums it up.

1 comment:

  1. My dear, (if I can call you that without some crazy recrimination)you need to learn the art of the chill. If drugs, alcohol and a vibe isn't enough, you are in for verwee long life of exquisite torture.


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