I am writing this on the pre-night of a serious competitive sporting event for my only daughter. I have a love/hate relationship with these kinds of events. Why do I have this twisted relationship with my kids’ sporting events, you ask? First of all, I personally stink at all activities that require any kind of coordination, so I have so much pride in having remarkably athletic children (that’s the love part), and secondly, I detest the person whom I become at these venues (that’s the hate part). “Sports Mom” is not a good look on me. And I detest all of the other parents at these affairs, because their behavior amplified, makes me reflect on the worst part of my own self. “Sports Mom Multiplied” is not a good look on any of us. The kids, on the other hand, are great. They are fun. They roll with the “ups and downs”, and they just enjoy the actions of doing their sport. However, usually, the rest of us “adults” decide that these events are for us to showcase our worst possible demons and traits, and to make the deeply flawed mistake of trying to live vicariously through our children. Today, I will do my best to “cheer quietly from my heart”, as my daughter, directly and enthusiastically requested from me. Today, I will try to keep things in perspective, and I will try to keep my ego in check. This will be a much more challenging task, than trying to physically win a States championship, or anything like that. I hope to prevail. My daughter hopes that I prevail, too. She’s rooting for me.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.