Hey there, fellow sports moms! I could really use your insights. I see you on the sidelines, decked out in your team colors, armed with snacks and hydration like it’s a championship game. You’re cheering, shouting, and totally immersed in the action, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of envy. As much as I’d love to join your ranks, I have to admit a harsh truth: I’m just not cut out for the whole sports mom gig.
First off, let’s be clear: I’ve never had a passion for sports. In school, I was always the last pick for teams during gym class, mostly because my coordination was about as reliable as a toddler on roller skates. And even if playing a sport in high school promised me a full scholarship and a stunning figure, I wouldn’t have considered it. Fast forward to adulthood, and I’m blissfully unaware of which pro teams are playing in what championships. Honestly, I could thrive in a world without sports.
But here’s the kicker—I have four boys. Yes, four! And as fate would have it, at least a couple of them are totally into sports. So, when two of my sons pleaded to join a basketball league, I (with great reluctance and a secret internal tantrum) agreed. Suddenly, I found myself in this strange universe of sports enthusiasts, and it quickly dawned on me that I am not one of them.
For starters, my backside isn’t exactly suited for those unforgiving bleachers. I’d take a comfy couch any day over standing packed like a sardine among other parents for an hour (where I can’t even see my child, just a sea of heads). Then there are the kids—most are fine, but there’s always a few who aren’t so nice. Watching my son get pushed around and the ball snatched from his hands during practice is infuriating. Sharing doesn’t seem to be a universal rule, especially when my son willingly shares but is left empty-handed.
And when that more aggressive kid clapped impatiently and yelled, “Come onnn!” at my son, I had to suppress a fantasy about giving him a throat punch. I know I can’t shield my kids from every rude encounter, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy witnessing it (especially not on such hard seating!).
Then there’s the anxiety of watching my kids play. I’m the type who cringes when I see someone flub a karaoke performance, so watching my kids make mistakes on the court sends my nerves into overdrive. I know it’s just basketball—not the Olympics—but the desire for them to succeed weighs heavily on me. I’m basically a bundle of nerves.
Considering all this, the idea of attending practices twice a week and games on the weekend feels like a form of torture. And I’ve heard stories of parents spending entire weekends hopping from one game to another, dropping hundreds on gear. Personally, I’d rather put some cash into a nice hoop for our driveway and watch my kids shoot some hoops in peace. You know, where I can yell at them if they’re being jerks in the comfort of home.
Despite all of my reservations, I understand that team sports will now be a part of our lives, and as a mom, I want to support my kids. So, I’ll muster the energy to show up for practices and games, cheering them on even if I’m not the biggest fan. But I could definitely use some guidance—or maybe a sedative. Either would help!
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Summary
In conclusion, while the world of sports is not my forte, I’m committed to supporting my sons in their athletic endeavors, even if it’s a challenge for me. I realize that being a sports mom may not come naturally, but I’m willing to embrace it for my kids’ sake.