This is a reblog of Part 3 of my mini-series. Gearing up mentally for the long overdue Part 5. In it, I will detail how HomeWrecker has taken to repeatedly calling my children ‘hers’ on Facebook. Would you like to know how it felt to see her post picture of a homemade Christmas ornament picturing her 3 kids alongside my 2 children with the caption ‘I love all of my children!’, and named them one by one? If so, tune in for Part 5, coming soon. I’ve only put off writing it because I’m out of my anti-nausea medication and smelling salts. I don’t dare wade into this crapstorm without a way to keep my waffles down.
Isn’t that the name of the game? Winning? Do you know of any athletes that bleed and toil and rise at dawn for practice every day for decades that really don’t mind losing? Do we cheer for our favorite teams, indifferent to their success or failure? Of course not. After all, who doesn’t love watching the big World Series win, replete with a teary eyed pitcher thanking God and his team, insistent it wasn’t his efforts that got him there…as we all sit there eating our wings and our nachos, feeling good about his triumph as a collective body of sports fans? We can’t get enough of winning.
But we like our winners…humble. We like ’em gracious when they trounce their opponent in the big game. We’d like those folks who burned with laser focus on that win for years to suddenly shuffle their feet in the dirt and mumble ‘aw…
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