As long as I can remember (and I am sure way before that) there have been those parents that coached from the sidelines, if you will.  Let’s use the crazy ass parents (ahem, mothers…) I see at M’s gymnastics class each week.  While M has her group lesson there are many other classes/practices going on in the same gym ranging from beginners to some real badass chics, like so badass that there could be a Mary Lou, Shawn, or Nastia in these classes.  My professional knowledge of gymnastics is crap, and, truth be known, my expectations are probably lower than most, so anyone that can do a front roll and come up on their feet is good, REALLY good.  Continuing on…. the different groups rotate through the gym, for example, M’s group will do floor, the badasses are on balance beam, and the up-and-coming badasses are on bars.  It may sound chaotic but there is a method to the madness and it all works really well.  So with all these kids come all these parents, or otherwise known as, ‘crazy-ass parents/mothers.’

In our particular gym, parents are able to view their kids performance from a second story balcony area that enables said crazy ass mothers to continually critique their daughter’s practice.  When you step into the balcony area there is a distinct area for ‘those’ mothers (their daughters are the badasses and all know one another) and then an area where the common folk, such as myself, sit.  These women sit right against the railing (truth be known they probably have assigned seats) watching their daughters practice ,as well as the other girl’s practice (their daughter’s competition, after all), all the while yelling pointers.  These pointers range from, “‘Keep it tight!’ ‘Oh, Morgan!  That was terrible!’ ‘Let me see the one with only one hand, that one is much better.”  The list goes on and on, however, it’s the snarky little comments that their daughters can’t hear (except for Morgan, clearly her mom is a bitch who shares her feelings freely…all the time), these are the comments that absolutely kill me because they are all horribly negative.  The fact that you ‘think’ so poorly of your child that you would voice those thoughts is just outright fucked up, there is no other way around that one, sorry.  Dude, if my daughter was doing some flip on the balance beam that ended with her on her feet I would be freaking elated.  As a matter of fact, M’s vault abilities have the potential to be stellar!  See what I did there?  I didn’t say that it was perfect (much like the lady who brings her digital camera, complete with a super long distance lens, to class each week), nor did I say it was shitty; I said that there was ‘potential to be stellar,’ and left it at that.  I could have continued on with the negative or jumped up and proclaimed her readiness for the next Olympics, but I didn’t, and other than making myself look as if I’m bat-shit crazy, what, pray tell, have I proved with my comments and to whom?  It proves nothing because, in all actuality, I haven’t the first clue as to what makes a good vault; I just know a badass when I see one and my M is on her way!  And, where do the snarky comments made under your breath about your daughter’s performance fit into all of this?  She can’t hear them, but your crazy-ass-mother friends can, and, despite the fact that they are doing the same exact thing, they are judging you.  Hell, we are all judging you!  Not the point here (but we really are)…  Simply put, there is no place for the snarky comments; therefore, cut your know-it-all shit out.

It is of my professional opinion (obtained from the college of Your Mother) that these women are acting like asses.  The point here is that these women sit there critiquing every little thing that goes wrong, never pointing out the good stuff (hence the previous balance beam example), all the while their daughter is being professionally coached.  Seriously, when you get super awesome at this gym you get a super awesome coach, no shit!  All of us in that viewing area are paying damn good money for someone else to teach our daughter gymnastics and far be it for me to interfere with that instruction.  Last time I checked I wasn’t a gymnast, nor am I qualified to teach gymnastics, and, all things considering, would probably break, pull, twist, or tear some really important stuff if I even attempted a forward roll.  Something tells me that these women are in the same boat as me, they couldn’t do this shit if they tried either.  The conclusion of my professional opinion is the old adage, if you can’t say anything nice then keep your f***ing trap closed.  Take this time to read a book (50 Shades of Grey, Bared to You, the Bible, Glamour, Allure, Redbook, etc. etc.) or, hell, for all I care, stalk people on Facebook, just give this time to your daughter.  Let her be the awesome gymnast and strong young woman she is striving to be at this moment.  When she looks up at you, and you happen to be looking, instead of giving the look of disdain for whatever indiscretion you yourself couldn’t even do, try something new.  Give her a wink, a smile, a thumbs up, anything that tells her you’re there for her because this is her time to shine and she has your full support regardless of the outcome.

I have always told myself that I will never be ‘that’ parent that yells like a loon for the coach to play her kid or pointing out how stupid the refs are or how a kid from the other team is bullying my kid and if he doesn’t cut his shit out things won’t end pretty.  You know, all those things that go along with balancing our parenting abilities with our natural competitive streaks.  It’s like Shakespeare said, “To be (an ass), or not to be (an ass).  That is the question.”  Which one will your kid respect?  Hell, which one do you respect?  I sure as hell don’t respect those parents that yell at everyone and everything; I highly doubt anyone else does either.  Just puttin’ it out there……

At then end of the day, the daughter’s, of those crazy-ass mom’s, squeeze (no ugliness intended) into cute little leotards and proceed to contort their bodies in order to defy gravity.  They’re like freaking cats and always land on their feet, fascinating!  Any hoo, continuing on….  Simply having the balls to willingly put your body in a small piece of spandex and then give proceed to give 110% like no one else is watching (even picking your butt like a lady) is commendable and makes each and every one of you my hero!!

*Feeling the need to state that I don’t know these girls or any of these parents which is making me acutely aware that I am being a judgmental bitch.  Hypocrisy at it’s finest!!

**Now I feel the need for a disclaimer…..  These girls, that I call my hero’s, could be promiscuous, drug addicted little flunkies, which I highly doubt, but one never knows.  As for their mothers, they could be really great, Christian, cookie-making women, but those attributes just aren’t shining while coaching, uh, er, watching their daughter practice.  Again with the hypocrisy but I’m just callin’ ’em like I see ’em.

Enough said….

And with love to all, I am off like a prom dress!!  I’m going to make like a tree and leaf!  I’m blowin’ this popstand!  Hasta la vista, baby!  Toodles!

(this could go on all night, see ya!)