It's the littlest things....

The afternoons during T-ball season can be quite a whirlwind. Today was no different. I picked him up, got home and sent the two of them outside to play while I got dinner ready. I'm a huge advocate of outside. I think the fresh air, sunshine and room to run and scream does them (and me) a lot of good. I'm actually able to get a load of laundry done in the midst of their playing and I'm constantly reminding them that they better be glad the sun is still out....otherwise they wouldn't be able to play out there anyway.

While I was filling my kitchen sink with dishwater, I heard a disturbing sound from the outdoors. It wasn't terror, mind you, just disturbing. Anytime they're outdoors, it opens my mind up to endless possibilities as to what may or may not be happening. Is it the dog jumping all over them; bike crash, maybe; sibling antics, perhaps? The guessing is the beauty of it all, I'm sure. No, the noise turned out to be Hallie. I went to the laundry room and peeked out into the driveway...and this is what I saw:

I'm so proud that they remembered to put a helmet on her that I can't be mad!

Here's to the littlest things!

Screw the kids....PARENTS say the darnedest things!

I guess maybe I should start a "Stupid Thing Of The Day Said During T-Ball" section for my blog. It happens so often, I'd never be short on stories...that's for sure! Allow me to set the stage for you: Game is in progress. Parents and grandparents alike adorn the ever so slight excuse for "bleachers". Smaller, stickier, louder siblings of those on the field are circling the legs of their respective parental unit. Nachos with cheese are hitting the ground faster than the clovers being picked in the outfield. It's a typical 5:30 game. Yesiree...we're in full swing (no pun intended) of T-Ball season now. Directly to my right sits...well, we'll call her "Mom O' the Year" who is clearly entertaining some visitors of the grandparent age and thereby ignoring her youngest child....who is where....you guessed it, UNDERNEATH THE BLEACHERS! Maybe I'm too much of a hard ass...but I just can't stand it. This child is like an accident waiting to happen ALL THE TIME! If your child is accident prone wouldn't you want to pay extra attention? Sigh...I digress. On to the actual transpiration of events. Long story short, something happens to the child. Who knows what it was...someone took his toy, someone stomped his toe, he wanted something that he was told (God forbid it) no to. It doesn't really matter at this point. So, after several agonizing moments of the blood curdling, glass shattering scream, the paternal parental unit steps in to "save the day". He fails, by the way. So, he makes an executive decision to head toward the house. He says to "Mom O' the Year": I'm going to take him home. (Sighs of relief all around were most assuredly audible.) "Mom O' the Year's" response: Whhhhhhyyyyyyyy? Can't you just make him behave? I don't want mama to have to take us home. I'm speechless.

Just another peeve, perhaps.

I'm riddled with them...peeves, I mean.

• I can't stand lipstick on a cup.
• I hate when someone uses my chapstick and covers it in their lipstick.
• I hate panty lines.

You've heard them all before from me. I stumbled across a new one this evening. It was a wonderful Spring afternoon perfect for T-ball practice. It's a new year; a new team. That means new folks to get to know. That's new parents...new styles of parenting...new little siblings tagging along to the games.

I came across something this evening at practice that absolutely drives me crazy. There happened to be a sibling of one of the players climbing the HUGE pile of red dirt adjacent to the field. It was cute...in a "Joe Dirt" kind of way. ;) He was jumping, playing, throwing, sliding...you name it, he was doing it. The problem, however, came as mama was trying to get "Jr." to listen to her as she told him to "git down" and "git over here" followed by "don't make me have to spank you". She didn't appear to want to exert the energy necessary to make the child mind, so she summons dad over (away from assisting the team in practice) to take care of the child on the dirt mound. What?!!! I'm dumbstruck by this. One of your kids is on the field practicing. Your significant other is putting themselves out there to assist the coaches and little guys in practice. All you have to do is entertain the young one for approx. one hour. That's it! After that, you can dump them both on your partner. What's so hard about that?

Does this drive anyone else crazy?

We don't need your help, ladies!

I'll just get it out there...I don't like women in sports. Before you get in a wad, let me explain. I don't like the female color analysts...the sideline reporters. They have been put on the field to draw ratings. That's all. Most of them weren't chosen for their astute knowledge of the game. More likely they were chosen based on their backside...if you catch my drift. Take a peek at this story on Kelly Tilghman. Don't recognize her name? Well, she's a graduate of Duke and happens to have swung a golf club in her life. I, on the other hand, have never had the pleasure of teeing off. But, I'm also not on the Golf Channel spouting off at the mouth. For those that haven't already heard or read the link supplied above, she was broadcasting at the Mercedes-Benz Championship (The PGA's inaugural event of the season) and made the statement that young players "should lynch Tiger Woods in a back alley." I feel certain that I don't need to go into any detail on why this is so ridiculous! I'm pretty sure, and I haven't spoken to the moronic woman - I'm just assuming, that she's feels like a total idiot. I'm sure she's apologized both publicly and to Tiger himself. I'm sure she'll regret saying it. But why, or better yet, HOW do we let this happen? If I can back up to the statement I made earlier that 'I don't like female sideline reporters' I'd like to add something: Perhaps I just haven't seen one that I can respect. I haven't encountered one that has made me believe her knowledge of the game is in line with what she's saying. I just haven't found one that made me feel like she was down there for the love of the game. Don't get me wrong...I'd love nothing more than to be sandwiched between Tony Romo and Peyton Manning. But, I feel certain my discussion would be ill-fated if I tried to talk X's and O's with 'em! If they wanted to talk about how they organize their locker after each game or their pre-game rituals...that would interest me and I could definately keep up. But, the minute they segwayed into 'I-right formations, the shotgun or roughing the passer' you'd find me quiet as a mouse. I'm not saying all the ladies that are out there trying to change the face of sports are crap. Not at all. But, this little philly has not helped the cause, that's for sure. I beg of you...please think before you open that hole in your head you sometimes use for the consumption of food! You just may end up eating what you spew! I should probably add that I'm not an avid sports watcher. If the Auburn Tigers are playing, I'm tuned in. Other than that, I'd rather be watching paint dry/grass grow/wind blow...you get the idea. So, take this information for what it's worth. Perhaps it was my deep Southern upbringing that makes me feel this way. I'm not sexist in the least...I'm just partial to getting information (be it about a football game, chess match or politics) from someone that knows what the hell they're talking about! Is that so wrong?