Browsing Tag

little league

Hopefully that little boy in the poem didn't strike out... if he knows what's good for him!
Humor, Parenting

Ask Bitch’in Suburbia: Youth Sports Edition

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Self-appointed youth sports “expert” and general baller, Bitch’in Suburbia, takes your questions and tackles your problems with slam-dunk, gut-checking, hardball advice.

Dear Bitch’in Suburbia:

I’m pregnant, and as a gift, my husband fully decked out the nursery… all with a baseball theme! First off, we don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl yet, and secondly, although I know he played Little League as a kid, other than watching baseball on TV, I had no idea he was such a baseball nut! Should I be concerned?

Signed, In a Pickle

Dear Pickle:

Concerned? You should be GRATEFUL! No pesky choices once junior is three about what direction to take: if it’s a boy, it’s baseball, and if it’s a girl, it’s softball. Womb to tomb, the key to lifelong success nowadays is to specialize from the starting gates, so good for you and your fetus!

I’ll bet your man had the foresight to knock you up in the April too, giving your child a January birthday, so that by the time the kid is in his/her last year of Little League/12-U, s/he can be the oldest kid for in the age group — giving him/her size/strength advantage! (Double-check his math with this league age calculator.) By the way, that timing might be different for girls, but since softball isn’t even an Olympic sport anymore, never mind have a pro league of their own, who really cares?

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Back off, Wonder Woman!
Best o’ the Bitch, Parenting, Pop Culture

When Superheroes Panic

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If you haven’t caught the summer’s first big popcorn movie, Iron Man 3, you’re missing a mind-blowing event.

I’m not talking about the ass kicking Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) delivers to every bad guy in sight, nor the impressively real CG destruction of Hollywood’s Grauman’s Chinese Theater, Stark’s mod mansion, and chunks of civilization in general.

I’m talking about the conceit of the script: Tony Stark has panic attacks.

I particularly loved this, as I’ve navigated a panic disorder myself, and like Stark, have learned to use it as a sort of internal guidance system. When I panic, I realize I’ve gone down some badass wormhole, and it’s time to make some adjustments.

Iron Man 3 was my big Mother’s Day gift. (I know, it seems a little juvenile BUT if you consider a cool movie on a scorching hot day AND the whole family loves it, it’s kind of fantastic.)

The next morning, I started my day as usual: doing laundry.

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View from a mom
Best o’ the Bitch, Parenting

Parental Misguidance

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Have you seen the one about the type-A, helicopter parent who realizes that despite her best intentions, things are not always perfect for her kids? And worse, sometimes the life that she’s so carefully curated for her beloved offspring isn’t what they want?

While this may sound like the plot of the recent holiday hit, Parental Guidance, and if I were to cast myself in a film, Marisa Tomei would be my top choice, it’s actually a scene from real life.

The other night my son dropped a bombshell on us: he was done playing baseball.

Considering that he is in the nether region of too old for Little League, too young for high school ball, this shouldn’t seem so earth-shattering. Sure, we had recently signed him up for a travel team coached by a former MLB player, and yes, the practices were grueling and intense, and of course most weekends would be dedicated to driving to far-flung places for tournaments where the boys routinely would play 4-6 games in a row… but what’s wrong with that?

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Unbelievable, Howard
Parenting

Go For The Gold

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The Olympic games are beginning in London, and over the next few weeks, we will tune in to see elite athletes accomplish incredible feats. As the cameras pan the audience and alight on the Olympians’ parents’ faces, I can’t help but wonder what’s going on beneath the surface. Are they nervous? Exhilarated? Judgmental? Scared? Ecstatic?

A few months ago, Procter & Gamble, the official sponsor of this summer’s games and also the self-proclaimed, “proud sponsor of moms,” kicked off their London 2012 advertising campaign with a spot called, “The Best Job.” In it, they eloquently documented the quiet, determined support of women worldwide who roll their kids out of bed at the crack, give them a good breakfast, cart them off to practice, and then finally see all their hard work come to fruition as their children win races, sweep gymnastics competitions, and medal for their performance in the pool.

Every mom I know, myself included, couldn’t help but tear up at the end. The Procter & Gamble view was gentle, kind, benevolent, and maternal. Just as we’d like it to be.

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Hope your face isn't on my balls
Bitch’in Life, Pop Culture

Anger Management

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Last week was a doozy.  The pressure was on, as black clouds rolled in and a shit storm of things I’d rather not deal with started raining down. Drenched in my own anger, I found myself struggling to keep my head above it all as I dove in to do the deeds of everyday life: dog walking, working, carpooling, homework helping, cooking, shopping, cleaning, bill paying, and washing laundry. The endless stream felt more like a tidal wave, knocking me on my ass each time I tried to get myself up.

I was drowning in aggravation.

And then the powers that be sent me a sign.

In the midst of picking up dirty socks from under our living room couch and fuming because the kids left the television on when I clearly asked for it to be shut off, I heard a familiar voice.

It was an unmistakable, cigarette soaked, drug scorched, gravelly rumble from the god of rage.

Good ol’ Charlie Sheen.

I dropped the socks and plopped on the couch, mesmerized by what his rant-laden, vitriol-fueled March 2011 flameout had left in its wake: a decimated live wire with a gaunt face, clenched jaw, and darting eyes. Although Charlie clearly wants to play nice and win us over with his “24th chance” in his upcoming sitcom, Anger Management (going off the rails a month from now on FX), the dude’s still mad as hell and sure we’re all gonna take it…. and like it, damn it.

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