Being a sports parent is not for the less hearts. It is a roller coaster, stockings, twists and turns and turns. After 20 years of mom with three athletes, I learned that it is just as rewarding and stimulating. This causes as many tears and stress as joy and celebration.
I have a love-hate relationship with the sponsor relative for as long as I remember. These weekends filled with sports for young people were both wonderful and exasperating. No, I didn’t want to wake up at 6 am to drive an hour to freeze in a hockey rink on leave day, but see pure joy and gratuity on my child’s face at the end of the game was worth it.
Some weekends, there were nine games to attend between three children. I abandoned my weekends for two decades to harm them to their sporting events. I wonder if all this was worth it.
Sometimes sports have highlighted the best of me as a mom
The excitement of competition and the years of hard work paying for my children encouraged me to be my best me.
I often stayed late at night to make posters or team shirts for the big tournament. Once, I planned hunts on the treasure “Survivor” and “Amazing Race” for the teams of my children.
But I was at my best when my children won their matches or finally won new competence, especially when they have overcome difficulties. I encouraged them to stick to that because I knew the precious lessons they would learn.
And they did it. With my encouragement, they learned sacrifice, compromise and sporting spirit. As a parent, attending children’s growth, humility and commitment to their sport and their team is magnificent.
Being a sports mother also took out the worst in me
I remember every time when my child was not on the power game or put himself completely on the bench, and I sat there silently, cursing the coaches.
Shamefully, I sometimes wanted someone’s child to fall ill so that mine could play. I am not proud of these thoughts.
I cannot tell you how many times I prayed so that it does not snow so that this practice is canceled because I did not want to go out at 9 p.m.
On several occasions, I was tempted to tell my son that the practice was canceled even if it was not the case.
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It is an eventful lifestyle, but I would not exchange it for anything
Being the parent of an athlete is wonderful and horrible; rewarding and heartbreaking; comforting and scary.
When our children go out on the athletics field, a big piece of us go out with them. When withdrawn from the game, cut off from the team or undergo an injury at the end of the season, we experience it with them. We win with them and lose with them.
Just as sports test the character of our children, they also test our character. I passed some of these tests with flying colors. Several times, however, I failed. But with each missed test, I learned a lesson or two.
These days, I am more aware of the speed at which everything goes. My second athlete heads towards the university in the fall, and my days on the sidelines are numbered. There is no part of me that is happy with it. But my children will continue to play and I am happy for them.
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