Welcome to my world - The world of Tish

Friday, March 18, 2005

Money Says I will end up going all Matrix/Lara Croft on someone

I'm normally a peaceful person. Not the Zen kind, or the meditation kind, or even the deep breathing kind, but the kind of person that isn't a threat


my daughter started softball.

The horror stories of t-ball and softball are true. There are parents that actually scream at the umpires, cuss the coaches, and berate not only their children but the opposing team.

I'm all for competition. My daughter needs to learn now the art of winning and the beauty of losing. She doesn't, however, need to witness her mother in a cat fight in the bleachers.

I described my fighting abilities to Mimi as 'going all Matrix'. Trinity not only flipped over the enemy, but kicked their asses in a precise, almost ballarina fashion.

Then I watched the Lara Croft movies, and even with the push-up bra and Angelina endless lips, she whips everyone in her path with discplined feminine rage.

That is me.
Okay, add some weight, cut the hair, don't DARE put me in leather.
So I'm not that flexible, or athletic, or trained in any martial arts.
And maybe I'm not the most coordinated person in the world BUT what I am trying to say is that the time is coming when Tish will


After four practices, there is a simmering brouhaha that will come to a boil. She outweighs me by at least 300 pounds, so there's the first obstacle.
She also has about six or seven foster children that might be carrying, so that's another problem.
But if she continues to scowl at me, make vague comments about my Drama Diva, or criticize my Team Mom skills, it's all over with but the crying, people.

Mind you, this is a parent ON OUR TEAM. What's going to happen when we are playing a real game?

I guess I will have to invest in some pleather pants, collagen injections, and a miracle bra.


  • You too funny lady.... you kick her ass girl. Don't nobody mess with Drama Diva, or we'll send in the backup, a truck full of Canadian Peacekeepers, lol.... walk softly, carry a big stick, and then politely tell her shut up, suck it up and sit her ass down. Sorry, nobody messes with a friend of mine...

    By Blogger ddddddddddddddddddddd, at 3:38 AM  

  • Gotta love those kids sports.

    By the way, my Blogroll entry in your sidebar is broken, might want to edit the link. See ya

    By Blogger Bubblehead, at 11:36 AM  

  • Don't forget you need to ride a Harley and pack heat.

    Whew is it getting hot in here?

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 1:08 PM  

  • I'll send you a gift certificate to Bob's House of Pleather. Yes I forgot to put my name in the last comment.

    By Anonymous Genuine, at 1:09 PM  

  • Hmmm. That's a tough one. As gratifying as it could be to tear such a person "a new one," would that be best for your daughter? It is her deal, after all, you are just a minor character. Ask her! I think if it were me, I'd drop her, run errands and come back just for the last 20 minutes. I'm not really sure kids pay that much attention to the adults, unless they are being embarrassed by THEIR adult.

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 4:53 PM  

  • I've been both sister and mother at kids' sports events all my life. The way I handle stuff like that is to not address them directly but to defiantly shout my cheers (or jeers, as they may be)with attitude, letting them know I don't sweat them in the least. If they ever want to come up in your face and actually get physical, they will be the one to look bad when you unleash your stuff. After all, you were only defending yourself, right?

    By Anonymous Wildcat, at 6:28 PM  

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