When your kids start playing sports, you might be kind of excited. Hey, this is it! After endless diapers, sleepless nights and toddler misery, they’re finally going to do something entertaining. So you sign them up for a sport, full of anticipation — this is what being a parent is all about, right? This is the fun stuff. This is what you’ve been waiting for.
Except it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. In fact, it can be downright awful at times. Terrible coaches, bored kids, mud, crying kids, mud, whining kids, mud, and a whole host of other things that pretty much suck. For every fantastic highlight there are about a dozen low points where you’ll want to pack up your bag of balls and go home. But don’t fret, because the funny parents of Twitter are here to make you laugh while sitting through three hours of t-ball slurping wine out of your travel “coffee” mug.
1. Maybe even start packing the night before.
Let's get married and have kids so instead of sleeping in on Saturday we can wake up before dawn to pack for a day of youth sports.
— Simon Holland (@simoncholland) March 12, 2016
In lieu of an adult life, you’re now a chauffeur, snack assembler and cheerleader. Bring a comfy camp chair, it’s going to be a long day.
2. Tell me more.
Do I want to hear about your 4th graders swim meet? Fuckin A I do. Start at the beginning.
— FleurDeLea (@Celestinelea90) May 1, 2015
One of the first lessons you’ll need to learn as a Sports Parent is that aside from family and close friends, literally no one else will give a shit that Junior shaved three seconds off his breaststroke time and is totally headed to the state meet. This includes fellow parents. Considering we already have to live through this with our own kids, especially other parents.
3. Sometimes, we get a little carried away.
They say I'm too much of a competitive mom but I think kids need encouragement
I SAID SWEEP THE LEG, LILY!
-Ma'am, this is just a bake sale
— Marlebean (@Marlebean) September 22, 2015
You know you’re in need of a kiddie sports detox when you start getting a bit too competitive in other areas of life.
4. It’s all part of the fun, kids!
"Toughen up!" I yell to my kids from the car as they shiver on the field at soccer practice.
— Amy Flory (@FunnyIsFamily) October 16, 2015
It’s cold and rainy but they’ve gotta keep their heads in the game. You, however — you can bundle up in a cozy sweatshirt under three blankets with a hot coffee thawing your hands. Hypocrisy has never felt so warm and toasty.
5. Daddy will call your teammates a “little shit” too, son.
I'm coaching my son's soccer team because it's important that he knows I'll swear at other kids, too.
— Rodney Lacroix (@moooooog35) April 13, 2015
After half a season of watching precious Aiden run circles in the dugout kicking up a cloud of dust that makes everyone cough, no one will blame you for telling him to sit the hell down. Well…I wouldn’t blame you.
6. Intimidation is key.
My son's strongest event at swim meets is announcing within earshot of his opponents that he thinks he just pooped a little in his swimsuit.
— Amy Dillon (@amydillon) July 3, 2015
Oh, you’ve never been the parent of the kid who caused the entire pool to clear out because he pinched off a tiny turd in the water? Aren’t you fancy.
7. You’ve gotta win that office FitBit challenge somehow.
*makes daughter wear my Fitbit during her soccer game while I sit on the sideline eating snacks*
— The Glad Stork (@TheGladStork) February 1, 2016
You need an extra 4,000 steps to beat that bitch Karen from reception, your kid who’s about to run in circles for an hour thinks it’s a cool new bracelet. Win-win.
8. Prepare for everything.
I witnessed a fellow mom get hit in the face with a rogue soccer ball bc she was looking at her phone which is why I'm wearing this helmet.
— Domestic Goddess (@DomesticGoddss) September 22, 2015
With kids so little they barely remember what goal they’re supposed to be scoring in, flying balls can be a real hazard. It never hurts to protect yourself.
9. No pressure, guys.
Hate to be THAT parent, but if I'm up at 5am on a Saturday for your baseball game, you better win.
— Sarcastic Mommy (@sarcasticmommy4) July 26, 2014
Being up at dawn for your kid’s game can be pretty embittering. A win at least makes it feel worthwhile.
10. Seriously, why do we bother?
*The night before week four of t-ball*
Me: You ready for your next t-ball game, pal?
4yo: What's t-ball?
Me: A waste of money, apparently.
— Dad and Buried (@DadandBuried) May 10, 2015
You think you’re teaching them something valuable and that they’re really starting to get it. And then you find out you could be taking them to the grocery store every Saturday morning and they’d hardly notice the difference. Parenting equals insanity.
11. The fury is real.
If they sack my kid one more time, I'm gonna suit up and block for him.
— Darlin' Darla (@Darlainky) September 5, 2015
Watching your kid lose or get hurt will turn you into an even more spastic version of yourself than you thought possible. Deep breaths. And lots of Travel Coffee Mug Chardonnay.
12. You start to wonder if you’ve been had.
Putting my 5 yo in soccer was basically me watching my kid pick weeds while a Richard Simmons wannabe took my money and gave away my snacks.
— Cray at Home Ma (@cray_at_home_ma) March 16, 2016
When you realize you’re transporting your kid to the soccer field every Saturday so they can simply take their flower-picking and Goldfish cracker-eating habits on the road, it starts to feel a bit farcical. Yet, you persist. Insanity, thy name is parent.
13. Comes with the territory.
I'm a typical little league dad: I cheer loudly for 4; I yell at Coach when he doesn't play him; I flash my moobs to distract other team.
— Make Meh Great Again (@TheAlexNevil) May 10, 2014
The sacrifices we make as parents. They know no bounds.
14. You’ve gotta be proud.
Pretty cool how your 6-year-old just won the Nobel Prize and mine is still standing on the soccer field, picking his nose.
— Stabbatha Christy (@LoveNLunchmeat) August 3, 2015
Our kids can’t all be winners but they sure can pick winners. I’m here every Thursday, hey-o.