For those of you who follow this blog you know I somehow ended up being the dugout mom last year. You also know that by the end of the season I was praying to the vodka Gods to please send help.
It's a new season.
They gave me 14 kids this season.
FOURTEEN.
That is five more then last year.
After two games I can say this much.
I need something much stronger then vodka.
Parents really don't care how big of an asshole their kid is.
49 is the number of times I can tell ONE child to sit down before I give in and talk to their father.
Their father won't care.
Send help.
Will follow up with more horror stories because this season is very very interesting.
So interesting the coach offered to put vodka in a water bottle just for me.
His wife offered to bring me Jello shots.
That's pretty bad, when the coach is offering to bring me alcohol because even he feels bad for me.
I'm off to another game…
misguidedmommy.com 
Oh girl I totally understand – this is a day in my life as a teacher only I’m dealing with teenagers that act like six year olds. I feel your pain, I do! Too bad the silent treatment and stink eye won’t work in a dugout.
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On behalf of a T-ball coach’s wife, I say thank you for volunteering. My husband pulled out every trick in the book to guilt trip a parent into serving as dugout mom/dad, and he only has 9 kids on his team. The woman who finally stepped up is also the one coordinating snacks, orgainizing the end of season awards, and just about everything else he needs parents to do. So thank you!
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