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  • November 30, 1999

Archives For November 30, 1999

From the counselor to the counseled

November 23, 2014

I had a work colleague recently ask me how it was possible to keep everything balanced when it comes to work and family. Her parenting phase is a difficult one right now and I did the best I could to remind her to always keep perspective, that none of us are perfect, and to find one thing she really enjoys and make a point to do it.

One day later, I was hiding in the restroom of my middle child’s basketball game wiping away tears of frustration. After having already been on the road for 50 minutes because I accidentally drove to the wrong gym on my first attempt, my actions caused my boy to miss his warm-up time (which, frankly, didn’t bother him half as much as seeing his mom so stressed out did).

I had been away from my family for three days the week prior for work. I had forgotten to RSVP for a little one’s birthday party that we wouldn’t be able to make. I’ve been neglecting a side project that I want to unveil by the holidays. And then there’s Christmas shopping and my hatred of it. Have I mentioned how much I equally love and detest this time of year?

I had my recurring dream that I only experience when I’m on edge, the one where I’m at the wheel of an automobile knowing I have to stop before I collide into something else and, no matter how hard I press my foot onto the brake pedal, I can’t stop moving forward.

I’ve reflected on my mini meltdown and came to this conclusion: I need to always keep perspective, remind myself that none of us are perfect, and find one thing I really enjoy and just do it. Or, better stated: Practice what I preach.

I saw a woman who I assume was a player’s mom approach a referee at the conclusion of my eldest son’s basketball game today. She spoke to him for no more than 30 seconds and I’m fairly confident hers weren’t words of praise directed at him. I saw another grown woman with tears welling up as I was getting ready to leave, and my gut told me her emotions had little to do with what happened on the court but maybe had more to do with stuff on the sidelines.

Then I redirected my attention on the collective group of youth athletes. My son, in particular, didn’t have his best game but his team came out on top. He wasn’t ready to throw in the towel, but instead shifted focus to what he wanted to consume to replenish the absurd amount of calories his growing body needs these days. The losing team, who has been victorious in the past, seemed to hold their heads high for the most part.

They recognized today was not their defining moment. It was but one chapter in their journey.

We adults could learn a few things from a group of preteens.

Today I won’t feel guilty for missed appointments or cancelled plans. Instead I will be grateful for all that I’ve done with the hours I’m given.

Today I won’t beat myself up for never being everything to everyone. Instead I will remember I am deeply loved by the important ones.

Today I won’t feel ashamed for taking on yet another project in my overly jammed life. Instead I will remind myself that I can’t give up on something I believe is good.

Today I won’t feel like screaming out the frustration I’ve bottled up inside. Instead I will feel like singing the passion I refuse to suppress.

Today I won’t toss my hands into the air and say “Finally, I wrote something.” Instead I will quietly close my laptop and say “Thank you for reading and relating.”

Written by Heidi Woodard

In Awareness, Inspiration, Reflection , , , , , , ,
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The glue that holds our gang together

June 16, 2014

I was approached by Fanatics to participate in their “Family Fanatics” initiative, challenging bloggers to share their stories about how sports has brought families together. Fanatics is the leading online retailer of officially licensed sports merchandise – everything from NBA jerseys to MLB caps.

Ironically, their invitation arrived as my family was heading out of town to a baseball tournament for our oldest son. I jumped on it without hesitation.

Baseball tourney turned mini-vacation

Baseball tourney turned mini-vacation. How the big boys roll.

 

There is no I in TEAM.

There is no I in TEAM. The little guys in their team huddle.

 

How has sports brought us together? That’s easy for me to answer. To put it simply: I can’t imagine growing up without having played sports. My husband grew up much the same way that I did. Two jocks met, fell in love, got married, and passed down the tradition of loving sports to their offspring. Fortunately for us, our children love competing in athletics too.

Now is the point I’m guessing many of you are thinking, Of course they do. What other choice have they been given but to live out your glory years for you?

To that, I reply: Touche.

I’m not going to lie. As I’ve aged and it’s become quite apparent that I no longer “got it,” it’s extremely enjoyable to watch a younger, fresher, more nimble generation take the reigns.

After much prodding by their mom and dad, both my boys have repeatedly reassured us that they love playing the game (whether that game is basketball, baseball, or football) as much as we did. Their little sister even has one memorable season of basketball under her belt. It wouldn’t have mattered if I steered them in this direction or not. I have no doubt all three of them would have inevitably arrived here on their own somehow.

 

Baseball besties catching their big brothers' game.

Baseball besties catching their big brothers’ game.

 

Hard to top feeling on top of the world when you're 10.

Hard to top feeling invincible when you’re 10.

 

Through sports, they are not only learning how to play the game, but they are meeting friends along the way. Their number of mentors has grown throughout the years thanks to a lot of selfless coaches. They know what it’s like to feel pride in their accomplishments as well as disappointment in their shortcomings. They’ve felt the gratification of stepping up in a big-time situation as well as the shame of failing to rise to the challenge.

I can honestly say I learned more about how to deal with difficult people through my years on the ball field and hard court than any experience I’ve had since in the “real world.” I can also freely admit that it’s hard to match the level of camaraderie one experiences when playing for something greater than just yourself.

Whether we are road tripping to and from tournament competition sites or sitting around a table grabbing dinner after the final made out or blown whistle, sports allow us to bond together and relate to one another despite huge generational gaps.

 

Win or lose? Who cares as long as we get to ride the Rhino to drag the field for the next game.

Win or lose? Who cares as long as we get to ride the Rhino to drag the field for the next game.

 

photo 1

It’s not all fun and games when dad is driving. Car sickness strikes at the most inopportune times.

 

Team sports, in particular, teach kids the valuable lesson that things don’t always go your way. Not everyone gets a medal for simply showing up. The greatest athletes are the ones who don’t play for pride, but rather for the love of the game.

I hope my children can apply these lessons and more as they grow into adults. I believe that parents like me can either help or hinder that progress from the sidelines.

Written by Heidi Woodard

In Family, Kids, Memories , , , , , , , ,
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Who I’d argue is the most memorable McDermott

March 27, 2014

If you know someone who knows someone who knows Theresa McDermott, please pass this along to her.

I intentionally let a few days pass before writing this post to you, Mrs. McDermott. I figured you and your family needed time to unwind and reflect on the last four years, your son’s amazing senior season, and that heart wrenching final game.

I mean, it’s not everyday that you go from feeling top of the world to bottom of the barrel in a matter of minutes: 40 minutes to be exact.

After all of the well-deserved accolades achieved by your son, Doug, throughout his collegiate career, I have got to imagine that you and your husband, Coach “Mac,” are still pinching yourselves to ensure it wasn’t all just a dream.

Although I’ve never met you, I believe you and I share a few things – albeit small things – in common.

I also married my college sweetheart and love him even more today than I did on our wedding day. We too went on to have three children together: two boys and a girl – the same ratio as your kids in the same birth order. My husband coaches our oldest in basketball just like yours does. There are times I want to simply sit back in the stands like every other parent with no connection to the coach, but I can’t because I’m watching the man I love mentor (and yell at) the boy I love. Although you didn’t graduate from Creighton like I did, I am willing to bet you bleed blue like the rest of us by now.

As I sat and watched Creighton get beat (sadly, beaten) by Baylor last Sunday, I thought about what it would be like to be in your shoes…or in your seat to be more specific.

Theresa McDermott captures one final memory of her husband, Greg, and son, Doug, sharing the court together.

Theresa McDermott captures one final memory of her husband, Greg, and son, Doug, sharing the court together.

Watching you want to comfort your son as he subbed out of his final collegiate game, but knowing in your heart that you couldn’t, tore me apart. I imagine the feeling wasn’t all that different from how you felt over two decades ago when you had to sit helplessly on the sidelines as little Dougie received his immunization shots. Or just a few years back when he wasn’t seen as the all star standout – far from it – on his high school team. Or at any point in his lifetime when he felt a little lost or homesick and simply wanted his mom.

Coach Doug McDermott subbing out his son, Doug. It was the final chapter of Doug's esteemed collegiate career.

Coach Greg McDermott subbing out his son, Doug. It was the final chapter of Doug’s esteemed collegiate career.

Watching you fully realize that this was the last time you’d see your husband and son embrace on the court as coach and player, well, it choked me up. I was fighting back the tears along with you.

I know that being #3’s mom on that particular night is just one hat you wear.

You have two other children who you’ve nurtured and supported. I assume that Doug’s transformation into the confident young man we witnessed time and time again on the court was a gradual and powerful one for you to go through. I am guessing your younger son is a people pleaser who is very proud of his big brother and considers him a hero of sorts, but also refuses to take any crap from him. I’m willing to bet your youngest sat back, took notes, and can’t wait to show the world what she’s made of.

I am confident with these assumptions because that’s how I view my own three kids.

I know there were lots of days and nights when you were raising them on your own while your husband pursued a profession at which he clearly excels. He is blessed to have you in his corner and has thanked you in the media enough times for me to believe that he realizes a good thing when he’s got it.

You must be extremely proud of Doug and Greg for what they’ve meant to Creighton University, as you should be, but you should also take pride in the way you’ve helped support your family.

Thank you for being an inspiration to many moms like me who you’ve never met.

Sincerely, Heidi Woodard

 

Editor’s correction: When you own and operate your own blog, you can give yourself fancy titles like “Editor,” right? I’ve had two people kindly inform me after I published this post that Doug McDermott is Greg and Theresa’s middle child (I mistakenly implied he is their oldest son). Nick McDermott, the couple’s oldest son, still looks “up” to his younger brother. He graduated from UNI and excelled at golf. Thanks to everyone who has read this piece and continues to share it.

In College, Family, Inspiration, Memories , , , , , , , ,
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