Mama Bear and Papa Bear

The weekend was full of wonderfully busy, hectic family type stupid crap, did I say that? Well, at least it is better than sitting at home listening to them fight. Saturday, we had a softball game and a baseball game. The softball game was hot, long and boring, did I say that, too? I meant uneventful. Mama Bear made an appearance at the baseball game, though.

My son used to be a pitcher, but has only been used as a reliever once since switching teams 2 years ago. He was told, yesterday, at the game that he would be pitching. Since he hasn't pitched, he doesn't practice pitching anymore and since, his age group's pitching distance has gotten longer... long story short...

He hit three batters and gave up a big hit and was taken out of the game, a rarity at his age. It was painfully brutal to watch. I felt sweat dripping from parts of my body that shouldn't have been- nice visual, eh?. My head was throbbing and I clawed some nice deep cuts in my thighs from the pressure. Some parents felt his pain, but you know, there were the few asses that were bad mouthing my kid in their mind what the hell is this kid doing?

The worst part; my son was humiliated, ashamed, disappointed, and ravaged with guilt for his team's loss. Mama Bear feels that this coach shouldn't have sprung this on the poor unprepared kid and I could have clawed his eyes out (my nails were sharpened from my thighs still). The reasonable person that I am though, talked Mama Bear down and bought her a beer and, though saddened for him, I know that his coach didn't mean any harm.

My husband is not as open- minded as I... The coach was called everything, but a good Christian lady on the way home.