The one who sat on my lap and listened to bedtime stories first…is now officially a young man.
When did the Bob the Builder lunch bag, the Pokemon cards, and the high voice disappear?
I look up at him and the reality sinks in that his reliance on me and his dad is fleeting. Here in this moment, yet ever so translucent, like the cloud of air released by breath on a January day in Nebraska. Gone tomorrow.
I had to learn to let him go…from my lap, from the special reading spot, from the longer conversations, from his shared bedroom with his brother, from the extended hugs.
But I realized, only through letting him go, am I able to witness how far he is capable of soaring himself.
I feel in my heart that I did well even when my head starts to doubt.
Is he ready?
Will he get hurt?
Does he know I’ll never judge him?
That we all make mistakes?
That true love is hard?
Will he embrace his potential?
Without a shadow of doubt?
Will he remain humble?
Can I still hold his hand (when no one’s looking)?
The most ironic thing is that I still remember rocking him back and forth in his first bedroom with walls adorned in Noah’s arc stencils, the bunk beds, and the hard wood floors.
In that time and place when I was practically busting at the seams with his brother in my belly and having little room left on my lap, I worried and wondered as I turned the book pages, Will he be ok when he no longer has me for just himself?
The answer is a resounding YES. He is ok.
I, on the other hand, am only doing so-so.
Happy 14th birthday. Your dad and I are so very lucky to have been blessed with you and cannot wait to see what life has in store for you.
As 2015 winds down, I want to express my sincere gratitude for everyone who has supported the GiveTheGameBack movement.
I want to thank my very first brand ambassadors (see pictures below), Chris Breeling at the Omaha Indoor Soccer Center for his moral and financial support, John O’Sullivan at Changing The Game Project for being a mentor, Creighton University’s Department of Journalism, Media, and Computing for filming my story, the Pat&JT Show on Q98.5FM for allowing me to talk (and talk and talk!), fellow sports parents for sharing your stories and encouraging me to forge on, Maureen White at The Graphic Edge for quality promotional items, my dear friends Shannon and Melissa for always reassuring me I can do it, and finally…especially…my husband and kids for allowing me to pursue this path.
You have all helped me accomplish what I set out to do: Spread an incredibly important message to parents and promoters of youth sports, reminding everyone of how blessed we all are to be able to cheer on our able-bodied, motivated kids throughout their playing careers…no matter how long or short those careers end up being.
Do you remember a time growing up when you made a mistake from which you weren’t sure your pride would be able to fully recover? A mistake that not only embarrassed yourself, but those who counted you?
I remember one. It happened on the softball field when I was in college. In my adulthood looking back, I can appreciate how insignificant it was in the grand scheme of life. But it hurt nonetheless at the time.
I remember it was the final inning and third base was occupied by a player from our in-state rival. I remember a power hitter was up to bat with two outs. That same power hitter did something unexpected…she got under a pitch and popped it up to shallow right center.
I remember we were one out away from sealing a big victory. As I sprinted backwards from my position at second base looking up at the sky to track down the ball, I remember hearing my friend and teammate, the right-fielder, yell for the catch as she raced in towards the lip of the grass. At least I thought she called for the ball.
Although realizing I had just as good of a chance to snag that pop fly as she did, I immediately veered off course to avoid a collision. And that’s when it happened. The ball dropped between us.
Game over.
I saw the look of exasperation on her face. I saw the disappointment in my pitcher’s eyes. I saw the opposite team erupt in celebration.
And I was angry.
Angry at myself for not taking control as an upperclassman. Angry for not finishing a play that we had dedicated countless hours of practice to perfect. Angry that we did everything better than our opponents that game except for one stupid play.
I think back to that moment and often wonder how much worse I would have felt had that mistake been recorded and replayed over and over again for everyone to see. Luckily for me, I competed in a world that was far less technologically connected than the one my kids are expected to navigate.
Sports fans remember certain defining, cringe-worthy moments.
Bill Buckner 1986 World Series Game 6 “Between the Legs”
Chris Webber’s 1993 NCAA Championship “Infamous Timeout”
Fred Brown’s “Inexplicable Pass” to James Worthy in 1982 NCAA Championship
It is probable if you have kids who compete in sports that your son or daughter will be put in the position to single-handedly win or lose their games. And despite the fact that games are won or lost by a series of plays by both teams, fans seem to remember the final plays over everything else.
I challenge adults to think about times when they felt as if they were falling short in some aspect of their life: Struggling to keep their spouse happy; spearheading a work project that resulted in higher costs and fewer profits; failing to deliver upon a promise to their child; gaining too much weight; not taking enough time to rest; the list goes on and on.
It is true what they say: With age comes wisdom. We have the luxury of knowing that storm clouds will eventually pass. Many budding athletes aren’t old enough to have that same level of understanding. Children run the risk of only seeing darkness on auto loop. Errors are broadcast for all to see and mock.
Resist the temptation to only shower love on your child when they succeed and are being glorified.
Resist the temptation to stand across from their opposition in joyous celebration as young heads hang low.
Resist the temptation to immerse yourself too deeply into your child’s life, for it is theirs to live.
Resist the temptation to judge yourself or other parents based on the amount of trophies our kids accumulate.
I am 100% confident that my own children will learn a great deal from their setbacks as I have with mine. Memories will always trump medals in my opinion.
Don’t waste your breath (or dignity) screaming at anyone at your kid’s next competition. This is their book to write. Flip the pages and follow along. Enjoy the story.
maternalmedia 