Put your FORK down and quit fussin' with your daughter -

Yesterday, the brunette had a softball tournament all day.  So we were up at 6 a.m. (well we had to get up that early to make sure the Prodigal Son was up and made it to his ball tournament on time) and getting ready to leave for the day to take the brunette and her gal pal to their tourney.  I decided that, because I would be sitting most of the day, I would take the dog on a 2 mile walk and get some exercise in for both of us.  It was a painful walk - in that he was fighting me the entire way.  I swear if I had not been in a neighborhood, I would have kicked that dog square in the ass about 27 times for pissing me off.  Sometimes I sneak out the front door to go on a walk so he doesn't see me and beg to go with.  But he just keeps getting fatter and fatter so I decided to take him yesterday.  And this morning - he's begging me again to take him.  It must be fun for him to pull me around that neighborhood. 

Anyway - we were at this tournament - and having never played softball myself, I don't understand many of these softball moms.  So many are like pageant moms.  Fussing over their daughter's clothes, hair, socks.  It's weird.  My daughter does her own hair (she's 15 - she's capable of that), puts on her own clothes and I just fetch her a water every now and then when she asks.  If she gets hurt, I sit in the stands and if there are no tears - I never get up.  It's a sport.  You have to be tough, right?  So she got a black eye from an outfield collision Friday night - I'm sorry sweetie - you're in the outfield - call the infielder down when you have the ball - don't just silently collide.  I don't get worked up over much of it - it's a game.  And if we lose we go home and if we win she gets another trophy.  This doesn't affect MY life any except for if they lose, she is grouchy.  But being 15, she's grouchy often so even that doesn't impact me much.  I've learned to how to deal with it.  And we don't really have any softball pageant moms on our team - thankfully - but I saw these women on other teams.  Sporting shirts that announced whose mom they were.  "Kaylie's Mom"  So?  I don't know Kaylie.  I don't care that you're her mother.  And the people that DO know Kaylie, know damned good and well you are her mother.  It's like these women lose their own persona during these weekend tournaments.  Or maybe they're always this way.  I don't understand it.  Did the women used to be softball players back in their day and now they are living vicariously through their daughters?  It makes no sense to me.  I don't even always wear the team colors or the team tshirt.  I'm in the stands.  What I wear really doesn't matter, nor do I give a shit. 

But then it got REALLY hot, so I put my hair in pig tails.  And the brunette was like, "OMG mother!  NO!"  No what?  "PIGTAILS?  SERIOUSLY?"  Oh!  I'm sorry - I must have skipped the chapter in "How to Grow Old and Act like a Mother" that outlined the fact I could not wear pigtails.  Fuck that.  I can wear pig tails if I want.  So I did.  And I was happy with myself.  Likely because I knew it irritated her so much - but also because I thought I looked pretty damned cute in my pigtails!  And also, later on that day, I saw another mom wearing pigtails and I thought, "SEE!!!  I'm a freakin' trend setter! - GO PIGTAIL MOMMAS GO!"

And as we sat in the truck in the a/c between one of many games, and I was people watching - like I frequently do - it hit me - there were  A LOT of obese people there - not just I need to lose 50 pounds types - but I mean MORBIDLY obese.  And I thought of how I'd been sitting in the stands for so many hours - eating sunflower seeds and Twizzlers and how that cheeseburger and fries for lunch was making me feel guilty because it was so NOT the right food choice - and watching these poor parents - who could barely navigate the giant parking lot.  And how I'd seen someone I knew from back in the day and the poor thing was SO overweight he couldn't walk from the fields to the parking lot without sitting down on his bucket to take a rest.  And I was sad for all of them.  And sick to my stomach over it - because then I started noticing that many of these young girls were also headed in that direction.  And the more I watched, the more saddened and sickened I became.  Because I don't understand it.  And with that - I changed into my tennis shoes, put on my iPod buds and told the hubby I was going for a walk.  Yes.  In the 90 degree blazing sun - I'm going for a walk.  He was concerned I might get stolen (cuz there's evidently a huge market for 44 year old women in pigtails now days) - but I assured him I would stay within sight.  So I did - I walked that parking lot for 20 minutes-  jammin' to The Black Eyed Peas and sportin' my pig tails.  And people stared - not necessarily on my first pass - but on the subsequent ones - like I was crazy.  And I wanted to yell - IT'S CALLED WALKING!  YOU SHOULD TRY IT TOO!!!  But I didn't.  Instead, their glares actually just encouraged me to keep at it.  I was already dirty and sweaty and stinky from sitting in the stands shoving Twizzlers down like they were going out of style - so now I was a walking fool.  And it felt GOOD.  And I was proud of myself for getting off my ass and doing something good for me instead of eating that bag of Skittles. 

People.  You fussin' over your daughter's hair and shoes and clothes is not going to do them a damned lick of good if you are dead from an obesity related disease in 5 years.  Nor will it do her any good when she ends up in the same place you are in 10 years.  Please.  For the love of GOD and everything holy - just put your forks down.  And go for a walk.  Just a short walk is fine.  Tomorrow you can go a little further.  Just please - stop with the insanity of eating yourselves to death.  There.  I'm off my band wagon.  Thank you.

I have never fussed over my daughters.  The brunette is a girlie athlete - likes to look pretty - but once she gets on the field - you better get the hell out of her way - because she will knock your ass down sliding into base.  And she's tough and knows that there's no crying in softball unless you are really really injured.  And I love the way she looks out there - knowing she spent an hour getting gussied up - doing her hair, her makeup - has on her sparklies and bows - and then just gets down to the game - completely unaware of her appearance because she knows that it doesn't matter - how she plays the game DOES.  The blonde always wears some crazy assed outfit - typically torn up jeans and an over-sized t-shirt.  And her hair is always a mess and sometimes I think she looks like "Nell" - and I call her that.  Do I wish she'd be more concerned with it and wear clean clothes and pull her hair out of her face?  Yes.  But I know that soon she will be a teenager and I'll be yelling at her to stop fussing with her hair so we can get going.  So for now - I take Nell with me every where I go.  And her hair is in her face and in her mouth and it's a mussed up mess and her clothes are ill-fitting and inappropriate.  But that's who she is.  And I love her with all my heart.  When she plays ball, she doesn't get gussied up - she follows more in the Prodigal Son's footsteps - she throws on a hat and calls it good.  Hell her batting stance and routine are even the same as his.  For now, he is her idol and that's who she emulates.  I'm okay with that - because the bond between siblings is terribly important.  I mean, afterall, I won't be here forever!

And then we lost in the main bracket.  So we went to the loser's bracket to work our way back in.  And we lost.  And so we thought we were headed home, but then - we found out we got to go to the loser's loser's bracket and try again.  And alas, we also lost that game.  The girls were beat down - they won that tournament last year.  They just had a horrible day yesterday and couldn't get their game on.  I was happy to lose and come home because it meant that my Sunday was now free to get prepared for the next 7 days of t-ball; softball; and baseball games.  This is the busiest time of the summer for us with ball and they evidently have to cram every damned game into a two week period of time.  So for now - I'm happy to be home and that we lost in the loser's loser's bracket last night!  I think I'll go for a walk!  Maybe I'll go for TWO walks today!  You try it too!  You'll see just how much better you feel!