Month: March 2018

It was a week of heroes.

Through social media and in person, it was a week and weekend of badass athletes, winning the gold, going for the glory, heaving heavy sighs and seeing their parents more than sing their praises and thundering adulations. I’ll admit… I was one of them!! A proud parent of a winner, a friend of the parent of the winners, the record-breakers, the champions. You’re simply the best, better than all the rest. What a feeling, keep believing. Nah Nah Nah Nah, Nah Nah Nah Nah….hey, hey , hey gooooooo—-oood-bye.

The ribbons, the medals, the big-ass trophies. The smiles, the high-fives and the hugs all around.

Aint’ gonna lie…it’s a good feeling.

But I can’t get them outta my head.

Who?

The “others”.

The “others”, defined as the ones sitting on the bench, waiting their turns to shine. The ones who missed the cut, but made the trip on their own time to cheer on those who did, hoping for that same feeling in the future. And the ones who gave it their all.

I was at many sporting events this past weekend, both in person and virtually. Track meets, basketball games, swimming competitions, road races. I thrive on the spirit of competition…. I love being around the energy.

What I can’t get out of my head in particular is the athlete, yes….ATHLETE ….in Heat 3, Lane 1, or 7. Maybe even 8.

You see, that’s the slow heat at a track meet, and Lane 8 is the outside, slowest lane, effectively assuming this is one of the competitors who seemingly will not make a numerical difference in the outcome of the race when it comes to scoring points.

So, why do it at all, right?

A race in particular comes to mind…. a relay. Slowest heat, outside lane. Four runners, including a baton and handoffs. As the second girl was coming around, she was literally in second to last place, with last hot on her heels. The girl/runner to whom she was handing off the baton had a fierce look of determination on her face. Her teammmates were cheering along the sidelines, and parents and adults along the fence around the track doing the same.

There was not a chance in hell these girls were going to even win their (slow) heat, let alone score in the event.

But I can’t get their looks of determination out of my head!!!

I was mesmerized by my own thoughts of “why do it? It’s cold as crap out here today. You’re not going to score”. I was ashamed of myself when I thought about it futher.

You see, the spirit of competition is in all of us. The primal urge to be the best we can be…whether that is feeling our heart beat faster than the day before, scoring 2 points further than we did the game prior, getting off the bench or just plain completing a 10K.

Inner strength. Confidence. Pride.

So these are the people I remember from at least this weekend. It’s easy to cheer for the winners, and it’s fun. And it is deserved. But it is equally fulfilling to look deep into somebody’s determined eyes as they are grabbing the baton and going for it, or subbing in the game for the first time within the last minutes to stake claim, or posting a picture of their exhausted yet proud selves crossing the finish line of their first half marathon on a freezing morning when they could have just stayed in bed and woken up to a cup of hot coffee.

Atta girl. Atta boy.

I applaud and remember you. Way to get after it!!!

I find myself lately explaining the decisions I’ve made to my kids. For example, I’ve told my 17 year old I do not want him driving to an evening game an hour away after a full day of school, track practice and mental exhaustion with a friend, who has been driving for less than a year, with the game getting over at a late hour, with that same hour drive home. Nope. Sorry, buddy, but you’ll go with us, your parents, who are the more seasoned drivers, therefore giving your mom a break in the angst department, knowing you’re safe and sound and giving her a break from looking at her “Find Friends” app to see when you’ve arrived.

“I hope you understand. This is how it has to be, buddy”, I explain.

Or…

” I know you really want to go to B-Dubs. I know their wings are awesome. But they’re expensive, and I’ve made grilled chicken at home, or we could have some of the leftover pork roast from the night before. I feel bad, but we really shouldn’t be spending the money when we have good food at home”.

And then there’s…

“Yeah, your curfew is 11:30 . And here’s why….”

WAIT. STOP. HOLD THE PARENTAL PRESSES.

I. AM. YOUR. PARENT.

That’s your answer. That’s what I said, and that is ALL you need to know. I welcome all disagreement and mature talk, and questioning of my reasons, which are usually, and I dare say always well–thought out, and with your safety and well-being in mind. Short of being a “helicopter parent”, I will always have your best interest in mind when I arrive at my parenting decisions. I will never shut you out, yet I will not tolerate insolence at all. I will listen to you, even as you implore me to change my mind. I will not dismiss your pleas. I will regard you with open eyes and listening ears. I will never say I am always right, and I will definitely admit it when I see your point of view or logic.

But… and this is a HUGE “BUT”… if it is an issue on which I have strong feelings, I will remain steadfast.

Take it, live with it and know I love you.

I am your parent. I am not your friend.

Love,

Mom