Blog Closed Temporarily

Due to extreme stupidity.

Pre-Pubescent One is playing Allstar Baseball this summer. And I, in a moment of weakness or insanity or both, agreed to be Team Mom.

I know that those of you with small children who are too young for organized sports can't really know what kind of commitment Allstars is, nor can you fully appreciate the scope of my stupidity. But the fact is, I am in way over my head. I consider myself a fairly competent, organized, and resourceful person. But I cannot conjure money out of thin air, because let's face it, if I could, I wouldn't be here blogging, I'd be on a yacht in the Mediterranean ogling my all male staff, who of course, are all ebony-eyed swarthy-skinned Italian Stallions, and who are naturally attired in nothing but speedos and epaulets.

So, strike one against me, cuz we've got no money in our team fund and the parents don't seem to understand that we need sponsorships to buy all the nifty embroidered spirit wear, towels, bat bags, and visors that they are fully expecting to recieve, nor do they seem to understand that every family is responsible for a portion of the fundraising. I covered all this in our team meeting, but somehow, "We need to raise $12,000 to cover just the BASIC expenses" didn't sink in. One would think that the figure (($12,000)) would command attention of it's own accord, but apparently not. And one would think that a detailed financial balance sheet showing a big fat negative balance might cause some concern, but again, it seems I am mistaken.

Strike two is the fact that I am expected to coordinate a huge tournament, from vendors and concessions right down to hiring umpires. Sure, I can do that. Absolutely no problem. Except....this tournament has to take place three weeks from today. I need a photographer, a t-shirt vendor and t-shirts, trophies, and concession stock like, tomorrow. And I guess I can pay for it all with peanuts, cause I got plenty of those thanks to the generosity of Roadhouse Grille, who donated three 25 lb. bags in lieu of a sponsorship.

Strike three is the fact that our coach, who is really and truly a fantastic guy...is THE most unorganized person on the face of the planet. I think he has ADD, which makes my husband laugh because he thinks that since our son has been diagnosed, I think everyone has ADD. But he does. Totally. And it's driving me insane. To register the team for our District Championship tournament, I have to have a birth certificate, proof of insurance, consent to treat and a recent photo of each child. This has to be on file with the Tournament Director or we don't play. Period. I have information for every player except...yep. The coach's son. That's just one of the many examples that illustrate why I will be a bona fide alchoholic before this season is over.

So, ummm, anyway, my beloved blog is suffering. I refuse to post endless whining diatribes (starting right after this one of course) so this post may be the last until the season ends. I wanted this blog to be unique, and different, and perhaps I am fooling myself that I succeeded just a little bit, but if I can't post anything but self indulgent crap, then I won't post at all. I mean, I suppose that blogging in and of itself is self-indulgent, but I like to think I write as much for my audience as for myself. And who the hell wants to read about my stupid Allstar Team Mom saga day after day? Hell, I'm boring myself with this one post.

So...I will post as I am able, if I am able. But I wanted to let you all know that if there are long stretches between posts, it's because my brain is fried from spending long baseball filled days in the damned Georgia heat and humidity and I can't form a coherent sentence, paint a verbal picture, or create a decent metaphor to save my life.

The silver lining in this roiling black cloud of misplaced altruism is that the World Series this year (not THE Little League World Series...we're not that good) is in Charleston, S.C. I adore Charleston. And I WILL get dinner in my favorite little French Bistro (Mistral Mistral Mistral, 99 Market Street, live Jazz music, delicious French Cuisines, a wine list to die for) if I have to maim the entire team to do it.

So, Wake me uuuuuupppp, when September July ends......