Beth Moore is intense, you guys. We just started a new bible study up at my church and believe me when I say that when I’m intimidated by a lady in a video, you can bet she’s probably scary in real life–scary Beth Moore. You will surely teach me a thing or two over these spring months.
Moving on: it’s Mardi Gras. How did I celebrate today? Merrick and I shared a Mardi Gras donut, and I pondered giving up Cherry Coke for Lent. Let me assure you: that’s a huge sacrifice. I arrived at my bible study this morning, jittery with my quite-possibly-last caffeine fix of the season, and with a purple-and-green-mouthed Merrick. His donut was Mardi Gras insanity–and no, he probably didn’t deserve it after ganking my car keys yesterday and hiding them in his backpack for the duration of the afternoon. I had to call in replacements to pick my kids up from school before that smooth criminal came clean.
It’s a busy time of year. Softball season is rearing its ugly-yet-fun head. Teams are being put together and I got word yesterday that I have to cut some kids. Apparently 15 girls on one team is 3 too many–whatever. My heart breaks. If it were up to me, I would coach ALL THE GIRLS. Never played before? Scared of the pitching machine? Don’t get along with so-and-so on Coach So-and-so’s team? Join us! Come, all you second-graders who are thirsty, and I will give you Capri Sun. We will have the best time ever.
Now, I have to consult the roster and make bad-news phone calls. No one wants to leave–and why would they? But I have to fork over 3 of my players–the only right way I can think to go about this process is to start from the last ones added and work my way up the list. No matter how fair I try to be, this process still sucks. I want these girls to play with us. I looked foward to adding their sweet faces to our line-up. And what if a little girl decides not to play softball at all because she can’t play with her friend? What if another little girl is scared of her new coach? They’ll be scarred for life and I’ll blame myself. And what if their parents slash my tires in the parking lot? I guess I do see how 15 or even 14 girls would be excessive…but I hate this finer point of coaching, because this crap is hard.
I do know that this is probably the worst part–and that once the season gets underway, things will settle themselves out and the girls will all have a wonderful softball experience, no matter what team they end up on. I suppose everyone would get the short end of the stick if we had such a large team–how can we possibly be attentive and patient with 15 players of such varying skill levels and distinctive personalities? To stretch ourselves so thin would be a disservice to all of the girls.
So, if you’re hearing a disturbing, earthy groan right now–relax. It’s just me vocalizing my frustration. If you hear it again later on in the year, come and pick me up, because my tires have undoubtedly been slashed.
That, or I can’t find my car keys.