Jolly Good Sport

"With what price we pay for the glory of motherhood." ~Isadora Duncan


I dropped the cash equivalent of the combined gross national products of Tonga, Vanuatu, and Djibouti in the
sports equipment store yesterday. Ah, the joys of procreation.

Let me take this moment to write two important letters that are long overdue:


Dear God,
Do you remember [You’re God! Of course You do!] So, this one day in 1995, I gave birth to Big K. I’m not going to lie. I was scared. I didn’t know what to do with a baby! Once the terror subsided to mild shock (of which I am still recovering) I remember being a bit excited. A boy!! Awesome! (Holy crap, what would I have done with a daughter? I shudder at the thought.) A boy I could handle. I boy would like bugs and dirt and … and … SPORTS!

Then, this one day in 1998, Big K (who obviously already had a serious penchant for all things music) announced to me that one day he would sing on Broadway. (OK, cool, you’re only three years old … what do you know?) “He can sing and still kick a soccer ball, right?” I asked You. Sigh. Alas. It would never be. By age five it was quite obvious that the sporting world did not interest my oldest child. I mourned. I was angry at You for giving me a boy … a boy … a boy who didn’t want to play sports! I got over it. He reads. He writes. He sings. He is awesome.

Then, this one day in 2000, I gave birth to Little K (Another boy! Read: Unbelievably massive sigh of relief) and it was revealed quite early on in his chaotic and crazy little bizarre life that he longed to be involved all things sports related. YES!! I get to be a soccer mom (Minus, of course, the soccer mom snobbery and the soccer mom preppy wardrobe and the soccer mom gossip and the soccer mom bumper stickers and the soccer mom mini-van. Have the awful van. Need upgrade to smallish SUV. Taking donations.)!

So, here I am, this one day in 2009, and I just replaced soccer cleats and baseball cleats (for they are vitally different) and tennis shoes and shin guards and specialty socks and a baseball mitt and a batting glove. (I forgot the baseball helmet. Sigh. Another day.) The little bugger grows way too bloody fast.

All of this to say … THANK YOU!! I do love my little sports man, but Bill Gates himself would have trouble funding the sporting equipment needs of this family if BOTH of my children were involved in two or three sports a piece. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Seriously! Thank you,
Happy Mom of He Who Loves The Arts & He Who Loves The Sports



Let’s just hope Little K never adopts the “please don’t ever wash my lucky sports socks” superstition. And …



Dear Individuals Who Fostered Just About Every Athletic Whim of Mine (aka: Mom & Dad),

I get it now.

Basketball high top shoes (always in matching school colors). Field Hockey Sticks (still trying to figure out how many I broke). Track spikes (dang expensive, they were). Aren’t you glad school provided all uniforms and that I had the presence of mind to borrow a pair of cleats from an underclassman to use for field hockey? I’m quite sure many a sports related item has been forgotten. Do me a favor. Add it all up. Multiply it by number of items and times they had to be replaced between 1987 and 1992.

How much do I owe you?

Photo Credit: Flickr, Kevin "The Happy Snapper"
I love you,
Your Daughter Who Played 2 Sports a Year in Jr. High and 3 Sports a Year in High School



No wonder I still find the smell of Bengay/Tiger Balm/Icy Hot (aka: menthol smelling sore muscle rub) extremely comforting.

6 comments:

  1. If I had been born in 1995, I might have asked "mom?"

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  2. Oh! The joys of parenting.... I can't wait. Errr! yes I can.

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  3. "...a boy who didn’t want to play sports! I got over it. He reads. He writes. He sings. He is awesome."

    And that's an awesome insight.

    As an elementary school counselor for 23 years and in my personal experience, I'd say that one of the biggest mistakes parents make is not accepting their children for who they are, something that I look at closely in my book's chapter on egoism.

    Parents often get hung up on the idea that their child should be like them or fulfull their own unmet aspirations - and what children take away from this is a sense that there's something personally wrong with them, something lacking.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Tiger Balm? Haven't seen it in years but I DO remember the smell!

    ReplyDelete

"Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you?" ~Walt Whitman

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