Big Bad Mama

I have had one of those days. Where everything I touch might as well be flushed and my buttons are exposed for the world to push. "No, you're more important than me, go ahead and cut me off." I've been trying to ignore it and hold everything in and suck it up and give the benefit.

But tonight we had to play this team - this great, cocky-parented team. My little guy is on one of those other teams. I love the kids and their parents, but as a team it ain't gellin and you can tell some of the kids don't want to play. I'm going to tear my hair out. This is going to be a long, frustrating season. So I wrote this poem to vent.

Why is it so hard

So hard to refrain?

I let my mouth run away

Run away from me again.

How do I let go
Let go of frustration?
Forced to just sit there
Sit there helpless.

Watching in agony
In agony holding back.
How do others stay
Stay so calm and silent?

"Did I say STRIKE? How ridiculous of me!
Of course I meant BALL!"



I just can't take

Can't take one more straw.

So I have to explode

Explode and complain.

And then we go home

Go home in this mood.

I can't even be good

Be good for my son.

I can't take back

Take back what's been said.

So I'll have to try harder

Try harder next time instead.