Today is the last nerd herd meeting.
Last week was supposed to be the last nerd herd meeting but they did TERRIBLY and tonight is their dress rehearsal with Saturday being their final performance. My co-coach convinced me that they had to have one more practice, and it had to be at my house. I agree that they needed another practice, notsomuch at my house.
I don't care if they get up on stage and completely mortify themselves tonight at rehearsal--I WILL NOT, CAN NOT do this even one more time. Not even not at my house. I.Am.Done. I cannot say this emphatically enough...I AM DONE.
The county coordinator tried to assure me that it's like having a baby and you forget all of the trouble and want to do it again.
Well, you know what?
I remember having babies, I think it is a complete and total pain in the ass and I never want to do it again.
Same goes for coaching kids.
I don't care if they give a Broadway-worthy performance on Saturday. I will give them each a hug, sprint to my car, lock the doors and drive away as quickly as possible. I may also change my cell phone number and have to get a new Facebook page.
Because I am done forever.
FOREVER.
Soon.
6 comments:
Glad to see a couple of posts from you....you make me laugh! The "Assisted Living" hilarious! Thanks for writing again, I look forward to your morsels of entertainment!
Carolyn
you'd better hope they don't win! When I did OM YEARS ago, I'm sure our coach had her bags packed and ready to go on vacation when we got to the regional competition...and then we won. And then we won state. And then two months later she was at the world finals in Tennessee.
Just saying...
haha! I can't believe you did it in the first place! I hate other people's kids and sometimes even my own. Last night, I had my three-year-old at a gym class where parent participation is required (umm, because they are THREE) and was so pissed by the time I left. I was standing out there with my kid even though I didn't really want to and this one particular other kid was just not listening to the teacher at all. The teacher kept nicely calling her out and looking around for the mother, who was parked over in the corner loudly chatting up some dad who was also not paying attention to his kid who was slightly less misbehaved, but not listening.
Love your posts.
I don't blame you. Run like the wind Ashley.
I felt the ex.act. same way when I directed a group of chronic misbehavers in a play. Nightmaaare.
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