A Letter to Myself, Post-Dated February 2010

Dear Self,
Please, for the love of all that is holy, just say no to running the Pee-Wee wrestling program again this year. Please. Do it for me.
Love, Your Sanity

Honestly, why do I let myself get suckered into these thankless and irritating positions? Last night’s wrestling practice just about broke my will to live and people? This was only our second practice.

Already, I have mothers whining to me about the limited amount of one-on-one time that their preshus babies get to spend with a coach. And, I realize that little Johnny’s entire wrestling career is at stake, I mean, he might only be four and a half but he will be a State champion one day. If only Hugh spends a little less time with the other thirty-nine kids and more time with little Johnny, that is.

But, Hugh is only one man and, unless some other parents step up, say Little Johnny’s dad, perhaps, the kids-and their parents- are just going to have to deal.

And, for those of you who are counting, yes; we are up to forty kids in the Kindergarten through Second grade session and, ten bucks says we hit forty-five by Thursday.

So, forty kids. Three parents who have stepped up to help coach.

What is wrong with this picture?