knitabit

Knitting as Therapy - Round 3

Maybe I should just title every knit blog posting with that caption. Knitting is just about the only thing standing between me and a psychotic episode of late.

Here's the progress on the Lorna's Lace socks:

The striping is much wider on the second sock. I don't know what that's all about, except that it's a different skein of yarn (same dye lot, however.) I think I'm going to rip out the toe and do a regular toe - side decreases and a grafted end - rather than a short-row toe. The short rows seem to add so much more bulk than simple decreases do.

Why do I need so much knitting therapy of late? You can read the rant in the extended entry if you're so inclined.

I am the manager of my middle son's soccer team. That means I'm responsible for communicating information to parents, collecting money and forms, etc. Being the overachiever that I am, I have thrown some above-and-beyond-the-call-of-duty effort into the whole thing. I found an automated phone tree service so I can send recorded messages to everyone at a moment's notice. I post stuff on a web site so they can look things up if they lose their papers. I err on the side of providing too much information rather than too little. I volunteered to do this, so I try not to whine about it (except to you, my dear blog readers.) And the reason I volunteered is because previous team managers were doing things inefficiently, causing them to burn out after only a season or two on the job. I saw some areas where I thought I could do things more efficiently and even make it kind of fun for everyone involved. I try to insert an element of humor or irony into every email message that I send, to keep things light and not so serious. I've been very satisfied with how things are going and have been thinking I could continue doing this for another year or two, if the team wanted me to.

So I was a little taken aback when a handful of parents start giving me grief.

We're headed to an out-of-town tournament this weekend - a tournament that the parents voted UNANIMOUSLY to go to. I have spent countless hours booking hotel rooms, printing maps and driving directions, making arrangements for a team dinner, setting up a schedule, putting packets together, etc. All of this during perhaps the busiest month, work-wise, that I have had in the last five years.

The tournament organizers have very strict requirements about paperwork - providing copies of birth certificates, medical release forms, that kind of thing. If a kid's paperwork isn't in order, the kid doesn't play. Period. I provided copies of the forms to the parents several weeks ago. I have repeatedly reminded them of the importance of these forms. I've provided extra copies when they lose them. I give them paper copies. I send them as email attachments. I give them URL's where they can download their own copies.

So now it's the day before we leave, and four parents have yet to provide me with their paperwork. And get this - three of them expect me to drive to their house and get it from them. I am just dumbfounded by this. And they send me emails with an undercurrent of hostility about how busy they are, about how I didn't wait for them at practice (waiting for 20 minutes after practice ends isn't enough?), about how their kids are sick, etc.

Well excuse me. I've got four kids, two jobs, and a husband that's been working 70 hours weeks lately. And I've got a bad cold and PMS. So there.

I am refusing to make the drive, and one mom threatened to pull her son from the tournament. I called her bluff, and she agreed to take the materials to the coach's house (closer to where she lives), where I will be picking up some stuff tomorrow morning.

Part of me wants to expose these a**holes to the other nice parents on the team. But I will refrain.

Taking this tangent even further afield, my husband came across a neat book last week that kind of puts this behavior in context. It's called Generations and although it was published more than 10 years ago, it's surprisingly relevant. The book has helped me to see that the parents that are giving me grief are of the Boomer generation and can't help being demanding, perfectionist and whiny. And I can say that because I'm of that generation, too, and I see that some of my own strident opinions and actions are part of that same picture.

My husband and I watched "Garden State" last night, and it is a perfect metaphor for Generation Thirteen. Some readers of the book have dumped on the authors' harsh treatement of Generation Thirteen, but I think this movie does a really good job of portraying the hand this generation's been dealt, and how they might end up making the best of it.

Comments

It seems that there are a lot of Lorna's socks that do that, at least from what I've seen in blogland. I like them, great colors!

Posted by: Cathi at February 24, 2005 03:40 PM

I'm sorry, I just now got to reading the rest of your post....how terrible that these parents are being so difficult when you're just trying to make things go smoothly.

I'm very intrigued about this book too, and want to read it before I watch Garden State again. I take it that you liked it? Did any of your kids see it (I'm sorry, maybe that's inappropriate since I wasn't sure if you had some older kids or not)?

I can't believe you are the mom to four kids, and work two jobs and volunteer with their activities. AND you knit like a descendant of Alice Starmore. Is there anything you can't do?

Posted by: Cathi at February 26, 2005 02:13 PM

Gorgeous socks.

I'm _really_ sorry about the grief that you've gotten from other parents and dumbfounded, as well. Maybe it is a generations thing, though I balk at that a little because to me it simply smacks of self-absorption and the attitude that parenting is a job tacked on to the main purpose of life, which we all know is to live for ourselves.

WRONG! Parenting is, of itself, a vocation or calling and you demonstrate this beautifully in your commitment to your kids and, for that matter, to all the kids involved in this little (ha!) exercise in physical exercise and growing maturity. Those parents who are giving you grief are -- trust me on this -- candidates being vetted for Supernanny. (Didn't they find the "stars" of the first show down in Centennial?)

You know the thing about getting the rocks and pebbles and sand into the jar by making sure you put the big rocks in first? That's what you've done. You're plenty stressed with all the pebbles and sand that keeps threatening to overfill the jar, but you've got the big rocks in. The parents expecting you to wait on them and basically provide a codependent other to bail them out (when did they get the idea that their lack of planning constituted anyone else's emergency?!) are trying to figure out what to do with the big rocks that won't fit in their jars -- so I think they're throwing 'em.

Put on your helmet, sweetie, and duck. Those of us who know you even a little know enough to cheer you on, to applaud how much you give, and to be grateful for your generous and conscientious spirit.

When you're ready, there's a glass of hot tea for you here in a mug from Tiffany's.

Posted by: Patricia Tryon at February 26, 2005 09:46 PM