Big Dick’s

    This weekend we had to take the kids on the dreaded mission of buying new soccer and baseball cleats.  Past experience has proven to us that the best and most economical place around us to purchase said footwear is Dick’s Sporting Goods. Now, call me juvenile, or call me perverted, but I just can’t help but laugh every time we go to Dick’s.  The name just absolutely cracks me up.  And I have to be careful that I make sure to giggle to myself in silence so as not to alert my kids to my junior high gutter mind.  But, seriously, how can you not crack up in a ginormously-sized store called Dick’s that specializes in the selling of balls?

     Every time we go to this mecca of all things sports, I tend to get a little lost in the enormity of this store.  There’s just so much to see, that it’s unbelievable.  Now, I’ve seen a lot of different Dick’s in my time (hee hee), but I think ours is probably the biggest (hee hee).  It’s two stories of everything you’d ever need for every sport ever invented.  And my husband absolutely HATES going there with me cause he says I act like it’s my duty to inspect every inch of Dick’s (hee hee).  I usually end up working my way from the bottom all the way up to the very top (hee hee), even perusing areas with which I have no experience whatsoever.  Can I help it if the super cool camping equipment display makes me want to pop a squat and roast a weiner (hee hee) right there on the second floor?  And I even freaking HATE camping!  I guess Dick’s just really knows how to get your attention.

     We spent a good solid hour before we were finally ready to beat it (hee hee).  And when we walked out of there, we had two new pairs of cleats, some baseball pants, a yoga mat, a pair of warmup pants, and, naturally, a set of golf balls.  Cause what good would a trip to Dick’s be without a shiny new set of balls?


Yin And Yang


     As the mama of twins, I often wonder how two little beings who shared the same tiny space in my tummy for nearly nine whole months can be so completely opposite.  They are THE very definition of being night and day different.  If one of them wants to go left, the other one wants to go right.  If one of them is freezing cold, the other one is sweating bullets.  They seem to NEVER EVER be on the same page, making every day a challenge to keep my head from exploding all over my mom taxi.

     One case in point of this yin and yang struggle?  The daily commute to school.  I swear, if anything is gonna drive me to the nearest bar stool, it is the every day battle of how we’re getting from our home to the kids’ school.  I’ve probably mentioned that we live a measly three to four blocks from school, so it only makes sense that we’d buck up and walk our asses on over there, right?  If only it were that easy.  On the days when I put my foot down and insist that we’re walking, my son does everything but chain himself to the tree in our front yard to protest the very idea of this.  As my daughter speed walks way up ahead of us, her brother moans and groans about leg cramps before we even get a block away from our damn house.  It’s so excruciatingly frustrating, that I often find it easier to just give in to him and throw his ass in the car.  A mama’s gotta pick her battles sometimes.

     Another big difference between the two kids is in their athletic prowess.  Of the two of them, my daughter just seems to be more of the jock.  They had their first basketball games over the weekend, and while my daughter was not at all afraid to go after the ball, my son had many other things on his mind like dancing and sticking his hands down his pants.  He must’ve flashed his underwear at least five hundred times over the course of forty minutes time. I’m not even sure if he was aware that there was a game going on.  God love him, though, cause the kid still continues to want to try out different sports. 

     Yet another area where my twins seem to be at different ends of the spectrum is with their friendships.  My daughter is the little social butterfly, constantly wanting a playdate with this kid or that kid.  If her favorite friend is absent from school, she has no problem finding another kid to hang out with at recess.  My son, though, is more of a one-friend kind of a kid, though.  And if said friend is missing from school, he chills by himself.  And while it breaks my heart to hear him say that he played all by his lonesome at recess, he doesn’t seem to mind it a bit.  He is perfectly happy doing his own thing.  

     I suppose life would be pretty boring if both twins always did the same thing all the time.  They are certainly full of surprises, some of them good, and some of them bad enough to make me want to stick my head in the oven at the end of the day.  I’m still holding out hope for the day that they decide to be on the same wavelength just for once, and I can feel like I haven’t completed an Ironman by the time my body collapses into bed at night.

Shame On You!

     Throughout the past couple months of the spring sports season, I’ve repeatedly heard stories about the behavior of obnoxious parents on the sidelines.  They’re yelling, they’re screaming, they’re throwing f-bombs, all in the presence of their VERY young and VERY impressionable children. These people should truly be ashamed of themselves for such EXTREMELY unsportsmanlike conduct.  Don’t they get it that their kids are watching their every move???!!!

     As you may recall, I had a “brain vacation day” a couple of weeks ago, where I completely screwed up the time for my son’s make-up soccer game. As it turned out, my mental block ended up to be a good thing.  I guess there was a little boy on the other team who was kicking, pushing, tripping, punching, and yelling at our players throughout the entire game. Since there were no refs at this particular make-up game, there was no one to call him out on his behavior except his parents, who apparently sat there and never said a word.  The parents of our team finally had had enough and insisted that the other coach take out this kid.  His parents definitely had something to say then. They unleashed a firestorm of fury on the coaches, which prompted other parents to also get involved.  It then turned into a big shouting match right in front of two whole teams of six year old boys. These “adults” clearly lost all perspective of the fact that this was KINDERGARTEN soccer, not the World Cup.

     Baseball is another sport that supposedly brings out the worst in some of the parents.  Another mom was telling me about a dad who got so out of line at her nine year old’s game that he was even slapped with a fine. He got in the face of the ELEVEN YEAR OLD umpire who volunteered his time FOR FREE to spit out every four letter word he could think of over a call he didn’t like.  The umpire just stood there in shock while he was belittled in front of everyone.  

     You have to wonder what is wrong with these people.  Are they stressed about the economy?  Are they unhappy with their status in life?  Are they trying to live vicariously through their kids?  Whatever their reason, there is absolutely no excuse to behave like that, especially when their kids are watching.  They are not only setting a horrible example, but they are also making a complete ass out of themselves.  I know we live in a ridiculously competitive world, but a simple reality check seems to be in order for some people.  How can you call yourself the parent when you’re the one acting like the child?


Enough Already!



And so begins the season of craziness for Spring sports.  I must’ve been delusional when I signed up my son for both soccer AND t-ball when my daughter is also playing soccer, as well.  That means three practices and three games every single week for the next couple of months.  What the hell was I thinking?  I fully realize that this is just a glimpse into the future with kids and all their activities, but I am not one of those moms who purposely signs up her kids for fifty thousand things just to keep up with the Jones’. Call me selfish, but let’s be honest — it’s a pain in the ass to get five year olds in and out of the car constantly.  They do not understand the concept of being in a hurry for ANYTHING.  And throw in the fact that we also have to remember cleats, shin guards, water bottles, mitts, balls, and a snack. I’m ready for a nap just thinking about it.  Between school, games and practices, I’m wondering if they’re gonna be able to pencil in any time to play at all.  They are way too little to be telling playtime to take a raincheck. I am desperately trying to talk my son into dropping one of the sports to make everyone’s life easier.  So far, he seems intent on both. I can be pretty persuasive, though, so I need to try a different tactic, or else I’m gonna be even crankier come Friday than I already am.