True and funny stories from the lighter side of raising my sons and daughter. As the Southern mama of this crew, I'm usually somewhere between "Bless your hearts!" and "Y'all act like you got some sense!" If we ever need to find our way home, we just follow the trail of red clay and glitter.
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Thursday, January 16, 2020
Basketball
(2015) I am the WORST basketball mom EVER. I hate EVERYTHING about it. The uniforms are ugly, the balls thud and echo nonstop, the middle school gym stinks like old sweat socks, we are sitting on the dirty gym floor, balls keep hitting us from all the kids playing around on the sidelines, the buzzer blares in my ears and startles me every single time, the constant ref whistles are shrill and nerve racking, babies are crying, the super enthused mom sitting next to me is screaming "Defense" in a piercing pitch a dog could hear, the coaches are bellowing "Hands Up" over and over like it's an armed robbery, and if the dad with anger issues next to me shouts,"Make it happen" or "Pass the ball" one more time, I may just lose it. Did I mention I absolutely HATE it here?? But ... I happen to love one of the players, so here I sit, smiling at Dylan like this is the best place on earth! Football and baseball I can do, but I'm pretty sure there is a level of hell called "Middle School Rec Basketball," and believe me, that's enough to keep me saved from now to eternity.
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