Want Some Cheese With That Whine?

I'm tired, my feet hurt, and I'm going to whine a little. Here goes.... (this is a little long winded, sorry).

It drives me completely up a wall when people volunteer to do something and then aren't responsible or organized about it. I mean, really, why did you ask for this if you're not going to follow through!

Lydia and Quinn are playing T-ball and Coach Pitch softball this season. Lydia's coach is a friend of ours and is awesome. I think he's crazy for volunteering to coach, but he's great. Of course, we went to practice and were completely confused at the park about where to be so after unloading all the kids, I had to re-load and relocate for the first practice tonight at 5:45.

Quinn's team is another story. We had to track her coach down yesterday to ask if they were even going to practice or get together before the first game on Saturday (yes, this Saturday!). He said, when Carl called last night, that he was in class, but his wife should have called everyone. That was at 7:00pm. At 8:30, the phone rings. Guess who? The wife. We have practice tomorrow, she said, and our team is the Teal Tornadoes. Meet at "area 1" at 6:30pm.

I drag everyone through the uncut forest of a field to Lydia's practice (which we were late to because of the wrong location) probably grabbing a million chiggers on the way to eat the heck out of the babies and then we have to leave early to go to Quinn's practice. We recross the densely infested terrain again to the car 1/4 a mile away and cross back over the entire park to "area 1" (sounds like a secret government alien operation). Once we get to "area 1", there are two teams practicing, one of which is named the Teal Tornadoes, but they're three years old, not 7, like Quinn - oh! and they're all boys. By now, she's freaking out. She figures she's the only girl on a team of three year old boys (understandably so).

Shortly, thereafter, a few other parents show up looking for the Teal Tornadoes, like us, and no dice. 6:30 goes by. 6:45 goes by. 7:00 is here and a guy comes running through the field and says, oh, we're not going to be at "area 1", we're at "area 3". So, he says we have to go all the way across the park, again, and parking is limited due to the softball games going on, so we would probably want to WALK!

SO, we walk all the way over there and they practice - finally. There's a playground there too, so the three little ones are running around there, while I'm a wild eyed crazy person, trying to keep up. I'm also simultaneously trying to give the proper encouragement with hand gestures (thumbs up, waves, claps) to Quinn who's doing her thing on the grassy knoll below the playground. If you don't act like you're paying attention to practice she gets upset that I "never" watch her, I only watch Lydia and I "never" - well, you know how it is. I kept having heart attacks when I couldn't see Lydia in a tunnel or slide because I was sure someone was going to walk off with her and the babies just had to keep going by the open side of the elevated platform to the toddler slide. I could just see a broken arm in my future when they fell. I even had a plan in my head for an emergency. If someone breaks something, the car is 1/2 a mile away, I'm just calling 911 - it will be easier than getting everyone in the car and to the hospital!

The coach calls it a night at 7:50 and I was about to collapse. But, no, we have to walk through the marshy underbrush, take our lives into our hands across suicide alley (the parking lots) to get to the van. The kids were beat, I was beat, and I thought - let's do it all again - next week!

I wonder if alcohol is allowed in the park - I may need reinforcements (and a ride home. Any takers?).

Just kidding..... : )