In my defense, a large portion of the fact that I'm still fuming a little is that I sat through a good ten to fifteen minutes on the phone of a mom of one of the chosen few giving me her take on the situation. Which she felt was necessary because Chris has very publicly stated our disdain for how things have gone down and, I think, because she's feeling a little guilty. On Saturday morning, when this was still a hot, fresh, steaming pile of bull dung (stinks the most when it's fresh), she expressed a wish to give her perspective. I kind of shut her down, expressed that it wasn't necessary, that I know how things go in the big mean world. We kind of left it at that. Then, on Sunday, there was a super awkward moment between this mom, Chris, and one of the cherry picker dads. Too long to go into, but take my word for it: awkward.
I then came home to an email once again expressing her desire to share her perspective, some info we might not know, and stating how valued our friendship is. I replied, told her we apologized for any action we'd taken that had left her feeling put in the middle as well as my shortness and reluctance to discuss it on Saturday and welcomed her to call anytime.
All of which led to her phone call yesterday morning. In case you're wondering why we saw this mom over the weekend, it's because her kid and J are on the same basketball team and we had a tournament. And, we know them well, largely because the boys have been on the same baseball team for the past two seasons. We have spent a whole lotta hours with these folks. And we like them, and we do value their friendship. (And thus would've valued a little forthrightness about this situation, since they've been sitting among the Cooperstown chosen few since September and felt a need to keep it secret, despite the hours and hours we've spent together on the sidelines since then. But I digress... we're all doing the best we can here).
Still, I really had no desire to sit and listen to a monologue on why this whole stinking pile of dung doesn't really stink as much it seems. Insert lots of details here about how this isn't associated with Edina Baseball and how these dads did a lot of leg work to get all this put together and had no malicious intent to leave anyone out. Their motives were pure. Blah, blah, blah.
I turned 39 last week. Depending on where you sit, that could be viewed as old, or young, or middle aged. From where I sit, it's the oldest I've ever been, I have the most life experience I've ever had, and I'm further into adulthood than I've ever been before. And, as a whole, I love adulthood. My twenties were far better than my teens, my thirties have blown my twenties out of the water, and I fully expect the same trend for my forties. Growing up has, on the whole, been good to me.
Here's where I struggle with being adult. I really, really, REALLY did not want to take that phone call. My particular logic chip in my particular brain tells me I had no obligation to do it. The only purpose in me listening was so she could feel better about the situation. If I were to have taken my best interest to heart, I wouldn't have. Because, let's face it, it's just drawing this whole nonsensical situation out for me. Keeping that dung pile steaming and fresh for an extra day or two if you will.
Not taking that phone call really wouldn't have been very adult of me. And neither would saying all the things that were going through my mind during said phone call. So, I put on my big girl panties and simply said, 'yes, umm hmm, ok, I see.'
I'm still resisting the urge to reply to her. To get everything off my chest like she got to do. To dispute all her asinine details about why the dung doesn't really stink as much as I think it does.
I get how pointless that would be. I get that views on ethics and decent human behavior vary greatly based on where you sit and what you see; and that we all have to make our own decisions about how we're going to act, what we can live with and what we can't. And, while I'd like to hole up and simply tell folks who don't see things my way to talk to the hand and leave me be, that ultimately hurts no one more than myself. I guess, if it gets down to it, I can see how belief that nothing outside of the rules has happened here exists. I get that this other mother has relationship with the two dads who put this whole shootin' match together, and perhaps that relationship makes it harder to see what to me is so clearly culpability.
So, my takeaways for today.
Integrity is in the eye of the beholder.
Sometimes I have to respect the eye of the beholder even if doing so puts my guts into knots.
It's ok to be adult and to take the high road and take that damn phone call, even though it feels terribly and horribly unjust.
Believe it or not, I'm actually feeling better.