“Erin, we only have another hour to work before preschool pick-up, could you turn that blasted cell phone off?”
“Sorry, but no, Ellen. The Bazaar is on Friday and I have to put out the fires, grease the cogs..”
“Spare me the clichés and please, please spare me from that grating ringtone.”
“Who lugied in your latte? I like it. But really, it’s not like you have to deal with the hand-wringing volunteers on the other end. So suck it up, Buttercup. What do you care?”
She was right. What did I care? It was a new age/zen crap stanza, but was it really the sound of the panpipes that was driving me bonkers? Truly, it probably wasn’t the tune that bugged me so much as the fact that it was an evil lie! That thing was detonating constantly, and there was NOTHING zen about 97.9% of the calls.
“Erin, to be fair, it may be conjuring up flashbacks from my OB/GYN intern year.”
“I’m feeling a swirling spiral taking us back in time.”
“Well, since you asked…”
It was a particularly bad night on call that had me bouncing between the ER, labor and delivery, and the oncology ward. In fact, there were laboring women lined up in the hallway waiting for empty rooms.
“Did you do your residency in Calcutta?”
“Baltimore. Anyway…”
Then the beep came from Unit A. I had just left Unit A. I hefted the beeper in my hand and took a deep breath….
“Breathing is good.”
…and hurled my beeper like I was the geeky girl in a gym class dodgeball game trying to teach the popular girl with the perfectly winged back hair a lesson.
“Like? Weren’t you actually that nerdy chick?”
“Erin, are you grasping that you have already chafed my irritation level to an eight? Can I finish? Anyway…”
My beeper lay smashed at my feet. Relief was my friend for half a doctor-just-did-what second. Then, Abject Panic pushed her rudely aside. As I sweated through my scrubs, I was convinced that an old lady was coding on the oncology floor. Never mind that the code beeper was still snugly clipped to my pocket; Panic is a deceiving witch like that. I scooped the pieces up and rushed to the front desk. The nurse slapped surgical tape, rubber bands, and a doughnut into my open palm.
“Wait, a doughnut?”
“The nurse liked me.”
“Okay MacGyver, did it work?”
I had barely snapped the last band in place and wiped the chocolate from my mouth when I was rewarded with a stirring of life from my patient: mew, mew, mew. It worked, but my beep was transformed into a kind of sick mewling. But that distorted “waa, waa” actually made me feel satisfied, like vengeance was mine.
“So I guess it’s not your ringtone, but what it represents.”
Erin: The world is fresh, the air is clear, and the days are long. I hear Andy Williams singing in my head, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!”
Ellen: I haven’t even finished putting away my Christmas decorations…
Erin: No, it’s not THAT time of year! Put away your Christmas lists! It’s time to pay homage to the Gods of Green Grass! Any mom worth her weight in soccer balls will tell you: Spring IS sports.
Ellen: More happy than ever that we swim. One more thing on the calendar this month might break me.
Erin:If your kid plays a sport with a ball on a field, you are feeling me right now. We Moms have worn out those second homes also known as our minivans, filled countless water bottles, and developed a serious case of tennis elbow from scrubbing the knees of baseball uniforms.
Is she talking about us?
Well, Providence has smiled upon us and there is an end in sight! So walk off that hamstring pull you developed from crouching in awkward positions on the sidelines. Erase the memories of frost bite from that all day soccer tourney and. . .
Ellen: Forget about that lovely lower back condition from sitting your middle age butt on cold, unforgiving bleachers?? Not gonna happen. Why doesn’t the extra padding help??
Erin: N’er you mind! It’s time to put those ailments literally and figuratively on ice, because we have reached the finish line!
Now it is TIME for The Sports Banquets and End-of-Season Parties! Woo-Hoo!
Ellen: I was a sorority girl. I know parties. These are no parties.
Erin: Don’t be a hater. We <ahem> , I mean, the kids have earned these! These parties warm my heart and put a little gold star on top of my mommy chauffeur report card. But you know what would blow them over the top?
Ellen: A keg.
Erin:No! Well, yes, but I’m talking about honoring our sideline sitters as well. Let’s fire up a BBQ and roast, I mean, toast our parents.
Ellen: Still going with a keg, but I like a good roast or BBQ or . . . what are we talking about?
Erin:Get on board. Without further ado, we bring you. . .
The Double EE’s Awards for Sports Parents
Ellen: Where are our kazoos?? Well, imagine us playing them here. . . Doo-doo-dle-do!
The Olympic Hopefuls
Me Wants Some My Precious!
Erin:These parents were double-dosed with a powerful case of “my kid is the best.” Every crap their little darling takes is solid gold.
Ellen: Gross, but accurate. They act like they have their sights set on actual gold. . . medals, that is.
Erin:These parents Stress. Me. Out. There. I said it. Their earnest talk of the best sports camps, trainers, travel teams, and coaches—it all leaves me reaching for an oxygen mask…or a whiskey.
Ellen: The real bugger is that their kid is usually really good. It’s not like they are looking at a dandelion picker or a bench warmer and spinning tales of Rio 2016.
But the truth is that we have a small pond here. Even if their kid can backstroke in the bigger ocean of talent out in the Big Wide World, the odds aren’ t great for seeing Junior standing on that podium–about 700, 000 to 1. These are roughly the same odds as drowning in a bathtub.
Erin:Glug. Glug. We just wish they could tone it down a little. Take it all in. RE-LAX.
Ellen: But not too much while in the bathtub. This is not the place to beat the odds.
The Glory Dazed
Erin: These parents were the bomb in their day!
Ellen: They ruled the field, the track, the court, the diamond, or the pool.
Erin:They are usually very respectful of the coaches, know the rules, and love to help the kids learn to love the game.
Ellen: The problem once again is their myopic vision. If they are trying to work out some shortcoming in their own sports career through their kids, their focus can be laser-like and oppressive. For those of us on the sidelines, it can be hard to watch.Where’s that whiskey?
Erin:Their more intense, less educated cousins are the parents who were picked last in gym. These parents are also trying for a do-over through their kids, but their lack of understanding of the sport creates unrealistic expectations and impossible demands.
If you have to watch this scenario play out, treat yourself to a double-shot.
Ellen: Okay, THAT is the hardest to watch. It’s Toddlers and Tiaras on turf. Think about it.
The Jersey Collector
Erin:These parents are those kids you remember from high school who had bios yards long because they were on every team: varsity and intramural. Well, those kids are all grown up now, and they are spreading their disease to the next generation.
Ellen: Their kids are totally over-scheduled and burdened: figuratively and literally. They are toting around so many multiple sacks of gear that it is a miracle they are wearing a helmet in their lacrosse game instead of a swim cap.
Erin:The poor kids miss half their games too. Calendars can only be stretched so far. Without some divine intervention. Or a clone.
The Vuvuzela Parent
What’s that? News flash, she can’t hear you!! But I can. Oy.
Erin:These parents are LOUD. Period. They are enthusiastic supporters of their kids and that is GREAT, but give a girl prone to headaches a break. Pass the Tylenol.
Ellen: You know what? Positive support is like Tylenol: even though it is a good thing, you can overdose on it. Take a breath, think of what a sane parent would do, dial it back a little more (just in case you have an unrealistic idea of what constitutes sane), and THEN show your support.
Also, it is O-KAY to only cheer during the spectacular parts. Just saying.
Besides, my kids swim. They can’t hear me anyway.
The Assistant Coach/Ref
Stand back, parents. We have real work to do!
Erin:These are oh-so-helpful parents to have around. They KNOW the sport and they LOVE to help the coach and the ref make sure they get it right.
Ellen: But they generally don’t like the ACTUAL commitment of being the coach or ref. And they often forget that the coaches and refs are volunteers.
Erin:These parents don’t really grasp the concept of the sideline and are constantly stepping over boundaries…
Ellen: . . . right onto the field and everyone’s toes.
Erin: The REAL coaches are not of a pay grade that entitles anyone to provide them with a running critique. If they are doing their best to be fair, they deserve a little respect with a side of parental restraint.
Too much!?! But I haven’t even painted my face yet!
The SuperFan
Erin:These parents don’t just love their kids—they love their kids’ teams.
Ellen: They are harmless, but hapless.
Erin:And easy to spot! They are bedecked in team gear. . . for their 8 year old’s team. From head to toe. To each his own.
Ellen: Erin might be endorsing this award because if she bought gear for every one of her 4 kids’ teams (yes, she gets bonus points for not having her 4 year old on a team) she might not be able to afford gas to get them the heck there.
I’m okay with it—as long as they leave their customized vuvuzelas in their SUVs.
The Holier-Than-Thou Superfits
Erin:My friend Nicole once told me that nothing stresses her out more than “Healthiness One-Upping”.
You know the parents I am talking about. “I just brought homemade granola and hand-squeezed OJ for snack.”
Or: “We run a 5k every night together, have eliminated all unrefined sugars from our family meals, and are currently lobbying to have all junk food taxed.”
Ellen: It is enough to make you want to crawl under the bleachers with a Kit Kat bar. But for the love of high fructose corn syrup: FRUIT SNACKS ARE CANDY, NOT FRUIT!
Erin:Hmmm, I’m getting a feel for which category Ellen falls into. But I am getting up on MY soapbox: END THE SNACK!! For the love of all that is good, kill this tradition. Give it the swift death it richly deserves! How ’bout this instead? EVERY kid brings his own snack. EVERY time.
Ellen: You have floored me with your brilliance.
The SMILFS
Erin:This term usually applies to soccer moms, but you can find these parents in all sports. These are the Moms working it on the sidelines at 8am looking like they stepped out of a salon. Ladies, maybe you didn’t get the memo, but we don’t do pretty before a decent cup of coffee.
Ellen: And a blowout to stand in the rain forest humidity of the indoor pool? Puh-leez!
Erin:You win! We are not worthy.
Come here, kids! You are gonna want to hear this!
Ellen: And last, but not least, the best award ever. . .
Erin:For real, with no traces of snark…
The Sports Parent Extraordinaire
Erin: These parents GET IT!! These parents support without suffocating and guide without getting carried away.
Ellen: These parents have put sports in its proper and important place as part of the myriad of experiences that help kids grow and develop.
SLAMDUNK! These parents are the real superstars!
Erin: These parents don’t need gold stars, championship cups, or bridge loans for four star summer sports camps.
Ellen: They are the rational, loving, SENSIBLE parents we ALL should aim to be!
Erin:Now excuse us before the rest of these parents roast us with a flamethrower.
Ellen: Or, at the very least, blast us with a vuvuzela.
Is it a bird, a plane? No, it’s Yeah Write Me #45! We’ve linked up, so grab your cape and click on over for some good reading.
Ellen– We are Moms, and we have mad Superhero skills: able to wipe noses, check Geometry, and bandage knees in a single bound. We got the capes, we just don’t wear them all the time. They get buried under the day-to-day-ness of our lives.
Okay, so maybe she does look like she could kick some booty. We just like ours covered.
Erin– But you know what? Even Superman needed to change into a cape and boots and style that little spit-curl on his forehead to signal that he meant business. We decided against comparing ourselves to Wonder Woman here. Who really conquers the world in a bustier with her bum hanging out? Except for Lady Gaga, of course.
Ellen– So not too long ago, Erin found herself smack dab in the middle of a day where her SuperMomma powers were needed and she was most definitely not sporting her cape. In fact, she was not even sporting a shower.
Erin– I was coming into Book Club late because I had been good and gone to Cardio Kettlebell. If I had stopped to take a shower, I would not have been able to grace you all with my presence. But truthfully, what I needed was the Sisterhood’s advice.
I began spilling my story the minute I walked through the door. I was having a problem at Charlie’s (11) school. Charlie got my family’s dyslexia gene, and the plan we had in place for him had gone off the rails. He was deeply unhappy and flailing. I was springing into action mode.
Ellen– The Sisterhood responded immediately with full-on support and advice. The Sisterhood is for real, people—not a gimmick.
Erin– They had great advice (they really are a wise, wonderful bunch). When they finished, I was on my way. I know my school and they know me. I practically have a reserved parking spot out front. I had one foot out the door.
Sisterhood– “Where are you going?”
Erin– “I’m heading over to school.”
Sisterhood- “NOOOOOOOOOoooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Ellen– Remember that Erin had said she had come straight from Cardio Kettlebell?
An unkind Sister might have pointed out that she was one degree south of disgusting. A really unkind Sister might have taken issue with the sweaty ponytail, sweaty workout gear, and grimy sneakers. To put it kindly, she was far from ready to throw on that cape and boots.
Erin– I was Super-Mom-On-A-Mission. I was used to talking to Charlie’s teachers about his needs. This was going to be the first time I spoke with them about how they weren’t meeting them.
Ellen– The Sisterhood barricaded the front door and reminded us all that sometimes our superpowers have to be advertised by our appearances and actions.
The Dos and Don’ts of SuperMommas
DO Make An Appointment. If you need one for your hair or your teeth, you should probably consider making one for discussing important information about your kids. You are stepping out of your usual role. You mean business, and business requires appointments.
DON’T Do a Drive-By, Drop-In, or Aside. This is going to take more than five minutes. Make sure they have time for you.
DO Wear Clothes From Your Former Fancier Life. That pretty shirt, the gorgeous cashmere sweater, even the tailored jacket lingering in the closet can get dusted off for this occasion. They don’t just remind you of the life you used to lead, before you spent your days packing lunches and changing diapers, they signal to everyone else that you STILL have a life and you are darn good at managing it. If you do choose jeans because that is who you are and you are going to keep it real, they better be the ones you would wear to the $45-per-entrée restaurant. But even $98 lululemon yoga pants aren’t right for this occassion.
All these boots say is, "I have a large stack of dollar bills."
DON’T Wear Shoes Out of Your Teenager’s Closet. You know what we mean. Uggs, flip-flops, and running shoes are comfy and they have their place, obviously, but not when you are trying to make a point. But never Crocs. Not to be shallow, but your shoes talk. Nothing says power like a heel. And boots are made for talking. As long as they aren’t red vinyl.
Stylish: yes. School appropriate for the rest of us: no.
DO Cover Up. For the love of Britney Spears, no crack, cleavage, or midriff should be getting prime time.
Also, do not put on anything ripped or distressed or cut-off. We know they are trendy, but unless you live in Beverly Hills, it is likely your principal will think you are a hobo or just finished cleaning out the minivan. And just to emphasize: NO SKIN.
DON’T Ignore Your Hair. Consider pulling out the blowdryer for this occasion. Stick the babies in front of Sesame Street for twenty minutes, find some uncongealed product, and get smoothing. Nothing says I’ve got my SuperMomma groove on like some shiny locks. Let’s face it, ponytail on the top of your head says I’m ready for spin class or to turn the compost pile. It does not say, “Hey, take me seriously.”
And for the love of Gwen Stefani, no pigtails. We know she can rock them, but if you’re over 30, do you really wanna go there anyway?
Hello, Stranger. From the looks of you, it's been awhile.
DO Come Prepared. Bring your papers. You are not crossing the border, but you are entering new territory—respect the boundaries. If you are referencing policy, testing, grades, or plans, bring them with you.
DON’T Pull These Papers Out of an Overstuffed Purse. Receipts, snacks, sippy cups, and McDonald’s spilling everywhere doesn’t really convey that you have your act together.
No judgement. You could pull this stuff out of Ellen's purse right now.
DO Wear Some Make-Up. Rolling out of bed is fine for carpool line, but the harsh light of the principal’s office might make you look haggard, tired, and out of it. Mascara and lip gloss say, “I mean business.” I took the time, so you should give me yours.
DON’T Take It This Far:
Do Stay Focused. Stick to the problem at hand. Superman has laser beam focus and so should you. Present your problem concisely and calmly. Use notes if you need to and even feel free to print out copies for the teacher or principal. Then you can all be on the same page. Literally.
DON’T Go Off on Tangents. Don’t bring up anything about your other kids, past grievances, or ask if the construction paper has been ordered for the Penguin Craft Party .
With this kind of focus, you could also put in that new skylight.
DO Bring Your Best, Most Polite Self. Use proper titles even if you use first names often. Why not acknowledge something that has been done well? It does no harm to put someone at ease so that they are receptive to what you have to say. You get nothing by making the teacher look bad, so no name calling—not ever!! Sticks and stones may break your bones, but nastiness will sink your cause. If the words“You need to…” come out of your mouth, you have NOT muzzled your inner Momma Bear.
DON’T Bring Younger Kids or Pets. Young kids make it hard to focus. Have you noticed? And a Chihuahua in a purse (or sticking out of the neck of your jacket)? Well. . . Sorry, we had to clarify, but there is precedence. Did we mention we don’t even live in L.A.?
I swear I'll be good.
We realize not everyone needs these rules. If your name ends in “eyonce” or “adonna,” you can do whatever you want or instruct your staff to carry out your wishes. But for the rest of us, we may be SuperMommas, but we live in the real world.
Erin– As usual, The Sisterhood was the calm, cool voice of reason in a dark, sometimes cruel, world. I cleaned up, dusted off, blew out, and suited up. I walked into school with my cape on and came out with a happier kid and a mellower me. Now, I can go back to hiding in plain sight again.
Ellen– We should probably add one more DO: Always, Always, Always listen to your Sisters.
Snowflakes: An Easy Decoration to Cut Out With Scissors. Flakes: You’re Lucky We Don’t Jab You With Scissors.
Erin:Nothing says holiday like the full frontal assault of requests for volunteers. From the Christmas parties to the Breakfasts with Santa to the Bazaars and Pageants, every school, church, and youth group is begging for your free time. Gear up, girls, this is our moment to shine.
Ellen: Ah, sweet volunteering. Nothing can get more done or strip more nerves than a room full of women. It is only December, and I could kill someone.
Erin:Don’t get me wrong. I choose to volunteer. A lot. So does Ellen.This is how we “pay it forward”, and all I can say is that you want us on that wall. Heck, you need us on that wall. We show up on time, do what we say we are going to do, play nicely with others, and clean up after ourselves. The Sisterhood Secret when it comes to Volunteering? Hook a sister up—fakes, flakes, and troublemakers not welcome.
Yeah, I’m crafty and I like to party.
Ellen: To demonstrate proper volunteer etiquette, we have created this entirely FICTIONAL event so that no one thinks we are talking about her. But if something strikes a chord, perhaps it is time for a little reflection. It is NOT time to permanently claim your title as a “Pain in the Rump” by emailing us to complain.
Erin: So without further ado- Welcome to our Annual Penguin Craft Party! We wanted to subtitle it: “You might be a pain in the rump volunteer if…” On further reflection, we decided to give this a more positive spin. Just know that if you violate these simple rules, we will dub you Queen of the PITAs (figure it out).
1.Respect the planning period! If while setting up for an event that has been planned for months, you try to highjack it with the idea that just popped into your head, refrain. Take a deep breath. Count to ten. Think of that great trip you will be taking with your husband without the kids. DO NOT utter your brilliant thought NOW or EVER. That ship has sailed. Here is a little example to illustrate our point. Say, you are in the gym setting up for the Annual Penguin Craft Party. Now is not the time to rally support for the idea that this party could be so much MORE if it had an Inuit theme and the kids worked together to make a true-to-size igloo.
Learning to Build An Igloo is Fun and Educational! Hooray!
2. But don’t be an idea killer! Nothing breaks hearts and quashes spirits more than the simple phrase: “But we’ve always done it this way.” DO NOT let these words leave your lips during a PLANNING meeting. This is the time to let the creative juices fly! It might be fun for the kids to toss live mackerel into the penguin’s mouth! Builds hand-eye coordination and deadens olfactory sensitivity! Give every Sister her moment. Every golden idea was a dusty little nugget at some point.
3. Execute your own ideas! If you throw an idea out there, be ready to catch it, and run with that ball. DO NOT expect your vision to magically happen. If your brilliant idea is going to take 50 million woman hours to pull off, you should think about putting in a lot of those hours yourself, not just patting yourself on the back for how creative you are. Start Googling how to make that igloo! Look up dry ice dealers! Be ready to drag that dogsled yourself.
You might want to look up fish wholesalers, too, while you’re at it. Remember the mackerel toss?
4. Just worry about yourself! Everybody is a volunteer. Nobody is getting paid, and everyone has someplace else to be. You are hanging with the heroes. If you spend more time complaining about all the people that never volunteer than you do making those papier mache penguins, you are bringing the Sisters down, and making the situation negative and unpleasant. Stop griping! Get pasting!
5. Follow the 10 second rule! If you have called your event chair four times in the past day, take a deep breath and put your cellphone down. You can solve this problem yourself! Think for 10 seconds! Remember that you are a competent, worthy volunteer. Remember that your chairperson, though she may be clocking a few more hours on the project than you, is still just a volunteer. Remember your sweet little cherub’s face and why you are volunteering in the first place. Use the time you just saved to cut out some more penguin bills.
Sheila is just slapping posters on the wall with the tape showing. Showing I say! I think we should make those neat little tape loops so the adhesion to the wall seems like magic. What do you think?
6. Keep your cat fights to yourself! If you start a spat worthy of a middle school cafeteria (even if you ARE standing in a middle school cafeteria) in the midst of the Snow Cone Booth, you are a bad Sister. Period. It is NOT proper etiquette to squirt blueberry syrup down your Sister’s shirt no matter how satisfying it may feel.
We Have ALWAYS Run the Snow Cone Booth This Way! And Your Shoes Are Hideous!
7. Do what you say you are going to do! There is no credit for great intentions. The only thing that matters is results. Nobody cares if your uncle is the Chief Penguin Wrangler at the local zoo unless you get him there. If you volunteer for him to show up and talk to the kids, he better be there with some of his feathered friends even if you have to drive him to the event yourself. It’s all about “follow through”, Sisters!
8. Bring a great attitude. If it applies to kids, it applies to adults. You don’t have to whistle while you work, but don’t swear, moan, or gossip. The penguins don’t like that. Makes ‘em cranky.
9. Clean up after yourself. We all have kids. That’s what got us into this mess. When our kids leave a path of destruction in their wake, we feel like killing them. When you do it, we just feel like killing you. You’re not royalty. Don’t act like it.
Surely, if I can sweep up while wearing heels, you could handle cleaning up your space? You are the one who decided it would be a silly idea to hole-punch the 400 name tags over the TRASHCAN, choosing to do it over the CUPCAKES instead.
10. Keep it up. Don’t be a One Note Nelly. Consider doing a little something to make EVERY event a success. Every time you put down that glue gun, another Sister has to pick it up.
Erin:But, seriously, thank you. Everything you do makes our kids’ school, church, youth group, and team better, and good Sisters always acknowledge a job well done.
Ellen: Yes, thank you, and remember the list, because Ho-Ho-Ho, it’s off to work we go. Bring it, December!!
“Did you do your residency in Calcutta?”
“Wait, a doughnut?”
