If any of you are looking for those guys from high school that played tons of sports, didn’t own a t-shirt without the sleeves cut off, pushed people into lockers, or harassed classmates because they looked “fat,” “geeky,” “dykey” or “faggy?”
Because, I totally found them!
They are coaching my sons’ tee-ball league.
You know. Because, what’s more effective in showing people how relevant you still are, than coaching a team of three and four year olds as they hit wiffle balls and run to bases that honk when you step on them?
I mean, they get to stand around, in their never quite semi-pro athletic gear, saying things like…choke up on that stick little man, really lean into that one dude, don’t be afraid to get dirty guys.
Backdoor slider. In the hole. High and tight. Chin music.
Nope. Nothing faggy about that, y’all.
It must be hard. To peak so early. And then…well, and then nothing.
They just wake up, every day, putting all their eggs in the baskets of their sons. The same way their dads did with them.
Hoping each generation ekes it out a bit further than the generation before.
It’s all very Shakespearean.
Today, Jude told Andy he was going to be a dancer when he grew up. Never mind that, to date, Jude plans on being a race car driver, a robot, a bear and a football player.
In that moment, Andy’s testicles fell to the floor and rolled somewhere under the couch where all the missing Hot Wheels and M&M’s go.
And, I wonder if my dad felt the same way about me.
I don’t think he could relate to anything that I loved.
He was a state ranked wrestler, he’s strong and logical, a skilled carpenter by trade, with an insane work ethic.
My brother is a mirror image of him.
And then, there is me.
I did not peak in high school.
I was super emotional.
I excelled in the arts.
I had no set focus, but, rather, 400 different focuses that changed on a whim throughout the day.
(I have life ADD.)
Career direction conversations with me went something like this…
I want to be a novelist. No, wait, an actress. Wait. No. *thinky face* A comedian. Right? No. Um. *lip purse* When do I have to decide by? Oh look, tacos. How much does a fake id cost? Do I have to put my real weight on it? Let’s all do the robot! Wanna get drunk in the fields behind my house and do monologues? Fish are adorable. Birds are not. I love clouds.
I crammed my school schedule with chorus and glee and musicals…and soccer. For my dad.
The better part of my teen years were either spent dry humping or wearing stage make up.
I spent the entire summer before my senior year beefing up my upper register to play Laurey in Oklahoma.
And then, everything went pear shaped.
Everything I stood for. Gone.
These were the things I was good at. And, I was cut from them? How does that even happen? How am I even here right now, typing this to you, and not in jail after having stabbed the entire music department in their faces and peeing on their mangled corpses?
The entire year, I had no idea who I was.
I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin.
Between having no extracurricular life, and being bullied about throughout the day, I cried in my room almost every night.
My dad even tried to talk to me about it once, but he had no idea where I was coming from, and he looked so uncomfortable.
So, I told him I was just having my period and the whole ordeal was very bloody and tampon-y.
He never asked me again.
I wasn’t meant to peak in high school.
It was supposed to suck then, so I would have stuff to pull from now.
How many E! True Hollywood Stories talk about how celebs were gorgeous in high school or how it was the best years of their life?
Just ask my friend Meredith.
We were in musicals and glee together, she didn’t peak in high school, either.
My dad always wanted me to be a lawyer or a politician.
I became a writer.
I can tell he is super proud of me by the way he cries when he makes his part of the student loan payment each month.
I think I’m totally going to peak soon.
So, when Jude told me he was going to be a dancer, I said fuck yes you are.
Except he has already changed his mind.
He wants to be a pilot and an ice cream truck driver.
Hopefully he grows out of it before I have to explain to him that only old people and sex offenders drive ice cream trucks.
Until then, I am pretty much the proudest mom ever.