Jeff, if this is how you feel when the Razorbacks play football… I am sincerely sorry for anything I’ve ever said to invalidate your feelings…
I said those words tonight just before cleaning the entire kitchen with my nervous, restless energy.
A new season of parenting arrived without warning today. Competitive sports.
Colt’s been playing sports since kindergarten – that’s not the new part – but up until this year, they didn’t even keep score! I’ve been cheering and snapping photos and enjoying every last it’s-just-a-game moment. This season has been a whole new ballgame, so to speak.
No matter how many tear-jerking YouTube videos I’ve seen of Olympic athletes hugging and thanking their moms, I was 100% unprepared for the parental anxiety of competitive sports. As soon as the ballgame started tonight, my stomach was in knots and I couldn’t sit down. I spent the entire game pacing a circle just behind home plate, comforted only by the sight of Jeff pacing a slightly larger circle in the grass over my shoulder. What a mess.
Colt’s team won the regular season (which didn’t give me heartburn) and made the tournament. Tonight was the championship and the boys played so well — they led the entire game. But that didn’t keep me from wringing my hands and trying not to be sick until the very last out.
I am so proud of these boys! Colt had to miss the semi-finals for a family wedding this past weekend, and we watched our messages like a hawk that night to find out if he’d get to come back and play in the championship game. Too much anticipation for a girl who didn’t grow up playing, watching, or even enjoying sports. I’ve had no training!
If this is how I handle 7 year old baseball, the next 10 years could be LONG.
Sports, man. Mommy isn’t cut out for this.