by Marinka on June 11, 2012

Let’s say earlier in the week you had a talk with your 13 year old daughter about the importance of showing up, specifically to her 10 year old brother’s baseball play-off game over the weekend and she says that yes, she’ll think about it, but no promises, and then as the game is about to start and you’re sitting at the top of the bleachers wishing she’d come by, there she is, walking in and waving and isn’t it great that the lesson that you taught her and/or nagged at her about took? And as you’re patting yourself on the back for being such an amazing mother and an inspiration to the masses (or something along those lines) you notice that she is not alone,but has two friends in tow and for reasons that you cannot possibly understand, those friends are boys.

Oh, you recognize the boys alright, they’re in the same karate class as she is, but that doesn’t make them not boys.

They take their seats on the lower bleachers, away from your perch.

Hypothetically, of course.

“Hi,” one of them calls over to you.  Another one nods in your general direction.

Interesting strategy.

“Unbelievable,” you say to a friend-mom sitting next to you.

She’s sort of laughing at you because she has no heart and is a terrible person. You’ve noticed this about her before and make a mental note to share the news with the team.

You ask her to approach the boys and tell them that they have to leave because this is a private Little League game, with only close family in attendance, but, for reasons previously mentioned, refuses to do it. Reminder: heartless and terrible person.

And then you don’t remember what happens because someone calls the fire department because there’s a smell of gas in the air, and the firemen come and you get involved in a deep discussion with another mom about whether it’s some kind of NYC ordinance that all firemen must be attractive.  Like why wouldn’t there be a class action lawsuit by ugly firemen-wannabes about being excluded from the fire department? You score a winning point by observing that if they let unattractive people into the fire department, then there would be absolutely no point in pyromania and in this economy that’s just asking for trouble.  Then you ask the mom you’re talking to if she dares you to yell “it’s getting hot in here!” but she just laughs in a completely mirthless way and also moves away a bit, again, mirthlessly.

Your husband shows up at the game and you brief him as to the situation. The situation with the  two boys, not the firemen, because you know from past discussions that he has absolutely no insight on the subject.  His face registers no alarm, no doubt from all the years of poker that he hasn’t played.

“What are we going to do?” you  ask  and he sort of shrugs, which is code for “please tell me Marinka what to do for you are the source of wisdom and light in our marriage.”

You, again hypothetically, instruct him to approach the boys and question then first separately and then together, as to what their intentions are towards your daughter, playing them off each other a bit and engaging in what you understand to be commonly referred to as “good cop”/”bad cop” routine in police drama parlance.

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that,” your husband says and settles in to watch your son’s game as though it’s the reason he’s there in the first place.

You wonder how you could have married such a brute.  And why you didn’t marry one of those nice firemen who would have turned a big hose on your daughter’s friends and solved many problems.

Hypothetically, obviously.


It’s the end of the school year, which means graduation for my daughter and baseball playoffs for my son. I’m a bit of an emotional wreck.  You can tell because I wrote a love song to Little League. Without a melody.  Or lyrics.  Please bear with me if posting is spotty this week.

One year ago ...

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{ 13 comments… read them below or add one }

Alexandra June 11, 2012 at 9:52 am

So many reasons why I want to walk arm in arm with you down the streets of my life forever, this one being my latest:

” Then you ask the mom you’re talking to if she dares you to yell “it’s getting hot in here!” but she just laughs in a completely mirthless way and also moves away a bit, again, mirthlessly.”

Yes, exactly: people have been moving away from me after laughing mirthlessly, again, for my entire life.

I have found my tribe in you…


dusty earth mother June 11, 2012 at 10:27 am

Man, I hate mirthless people. But I love this post. It’s a dilemma.


annie June 11, 2012 at 10:39 am

Unfortunately, unless you’re going to send her to a nunnery, you may have to just suck it up deal with the fact there will be boys in her life.



b a seagull
June 11, 2012 at 2:55 pm

You deserve better friends.


deb June 11, 2012 at 6:07 pm

be comforted that she brought the boys to the game instead of blowing off the game to stay home alone with the boys because she knew you’d be occupied for an ENTIRE afternoon (which is how long little league baseball games last in my limited experience)!

my 14yr old son won’t share a thing about girls. we have resorted to interrogating his 11 year old sister for information and have considered hiring her as a double agent.


June 11, 2012 at 8:45 pm

I’m sure your husband will be thinking differently when said boys are knocking on your door. The perfect opportunity for the ever important “I told you so.”


the mama bird diaries
June 11, 2012 at 10:55 pm

I was totally going to try to help you with your situation but i’m just thinking about hot firefighters.


gina June 11, 2012 at 11:29 pm

you need to take away one of his wedding rings…..


Tinne from Tantrums and Tomatoes June 12, 2012 at 7:18 am

Question : was one of the boys carrying her backpack? That is not the one you have to look out for, it is the other one you have to worry about.


June 12, 2012 at 1:15 pm

I’m sorry, what’s your name again…I just read something about hot firefighters but cannot remember anything else. Were the firemen shirtless maybe just with suspenders? Did you get pictures? How big were their hoses?


Arieloser June 12, 2012 at 4:57 pm

I already have panic attacks about this and my daughter is only 2!! I’m so screwed!!!


June 13, 2012 at 10:34 pm

This “friend” of yours sounds like a terrible woman. Perhaps you could have set one of the boys on fire, accused her of it and had her arrested, the boys removed and some time with the hot fireman. I mean, hypothetically.


September 10, 2012 at 3:55 pm

How did I miss this one? Hilarious. And that’s not even hypothetical.


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