We’ve all heard athletes praise their moms by saying, “My mom is the best. She never missed a [insert sport here: soccer game, basketball match, etc.].” While some might find that heartwarming, I can’t help but wonder: How on earth is that even possible? Did these moms not have jobs, other children, or even the occasional cold?
The notion of a parent who “never misses a game” sounds charming in theory, but is it really the standard we should use to gauge good parenting? I have three kids who are all deeply involved in various sports and activities, and despite having a supportive partner, we’re still just two adults trying to keep up. With the arrival of our third child, it’s clear we’re officially outnumbered.
Every weekend, our discussions revolve around organizing the logistics for the countless activities we need to attend in just 48 hours. Coordinating that must be easier than planning a spontaneous trip to an exotic location! And that’s just the weekend.
Since stepping back from my full-time job, I’ve taken on the bulk of the weekday driving, but I still rely heavily on my husband, friends, and neighbors. There’s simply no way I could do it all alone, and unless I invent a time machine, I can’t be present for every single event.
In my previous job, I was fortunate to have a company that valued work-life balance, allowing me flexibility. I worked hard to build a reputation before kids, which made it easier to maintain that balance after they arrived. However, not everyone has that luxury. Some people work shifts or have jobs with strict schedules. Imagine telling a patient, “Sorry, I need to reschedule your surgery because my child has a game.”
Mom guilt is something many of us experience, but in this regard, I felt okay. I didn’t miss out on much, and while I had my share of guilt—like my kids not eating healthily or spending too much time on screens—I could usually count flexibility as a win.
Yet, looking back, I realize I wasn’t as present as I thought. Although I attended many events, I often had my smartphone in hand, juggling work calls while trying to cheer for my kids. I remember pacing behind the bleachers during a baseball game, missing out on my son’s great play because I was preoccupied with work. Sure, I was there physically, but was I really present?
No parent wants their child to look up and feel alone in the stands. Thankfully, in our kids’ sports teams, the parents have formed a community. We celebrate each child’s achievements and commiserate over disappointments together.
Sports impart valuable lessons: teamwork, perseverance, and handling both success and failure. They also teach our kids how to be good sports, whether they win or lose. I cherish the role sports play in our family life, even if they take over most of our weekends.
As parents, we have a multitude of responsibilities. Our primary job is to raise kind, compassionate individuals and ensure their safety and health. I want my kids to know that we’re always in their corner, even if some days I’m the “bad guy” for suggesting pajamas at bedtime or reminding them to disconnect from screens. But attending every sporting event is not part of the job description.
I once read that the best thing you can say to your child after a game—win or lose—is six simple words: “I love to watch you play.” It’s not our role to critique their performance; coaches can handle that. I now tell my kids this often. I genuinely enjoy watching them play, and I want to be there for them as much as possible, even if I can’t always promise to attend every game.
For more insights on parenting and sports, check out this insightful blog post. And for those interested in enhancing fertility, consider visiting Make A Mom for quality home insemination kits. Another great resource is IVF Babble for comprehensive information on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, it’s essential to remember that while being present at our kids’ events is important, we also have to balance our responsibilities as parents and individuals. The love and support we provide, even if we can’t be there for every moment, is what truly matters.