I think that's us... my husband and I. We both played various sports and participated in activities throughout our childhood (although my husband would argue that rolling skating and dance team are not sports - me and 23 other Skipper veterans would beg to differ!) But, when it comes to jumping on that fast train to forced super stardom for our 6 year-old, we are cringing and looking away. We suck at the unspoken 'protocol' that comes with the territory... but we try.
We're late to practices and running to games five minutes before start time because, well, we work. We forget water bottles and what field the game is at on any given day. We forget to bring sunscreen and bug spray and end up standing and pacing with the baby because we left the chairs in the trunk of the other vehicle... organized sports parents, please don't judge. When you see me running through the park with a 1 year-old on my hip in wedge sandals and my workday attire, impatiently urging my sports-playing kid to get a move on and I don't acknowledge your smile (or curious looks) I'm not snotty and superior. I'm sweating it here, people! My kid forgot his cup and the baby has two cups full in his diaper! (As for the onesie, check out Remix Athletics - they have cool and adorable sports wear!)We often wonder if we're not as plugged in as we should be to this whole sub-culture of youth sports mania. Is it bad that we're (what feels like) the only parents who don't have our kid in three to four activities or on traveling sports teams? At 6, he's almost too old and it's almost too late to start some sports in our surrounding communities... the kids he's playing with have been at it since 3. I was still trying to potty train a late bloomer at 3! 'Um, coach, I got poop in my shorts...' not so sure that it would have worked so well back then. He's trying to keep up with the mini-Heisman trophy candidates at the ball field when he's just learning the fundamentals of the game.
Hubby lived that life. He was written up in the local newspaper sports section plenty. He both loved it and hated it. He misses playing the sport but admits that by the time he was in high school, he almost didn't want to participate... he was burnt out by age 15. Is that what we want for our boys? Eek! I know that I am making a few people uncomfortable right now because the sports-mentality is a culture, a lifestyle and you don't think about it or talk about it, you just do it. (Nike is not a paid sponsor of this blog).
We have endured three seasons of what can only be described as painful organized sports activities. Soccer was the first entree into the world of youth sports. "PLEEEEAAAAZZZZEEE can I play sock-ur because all my frwends are, mommy..." says our 4 year-old a few years back. Ok. Great, fun, it will be cute. It will let him burn off all that extra energy, he'll learn a team sport and make new friends. I shall bring a chair, wear the spectator-mom uniform (sunglasses, dark rinse jeans, tee shirt and Sketchers or Rocket Dog tennies) and watch in proud anticipation with all the other parents.
My suburban fantasy was squashed. SPLAT! like a cleat on a piece of bubble wrap. There they were, a bunch of pre-k kiddies, carted to the soccer field by good-intentioned parents. Instead of running for the ball, they were running in circles, picking dandelions, giggling, yelling over those very patient instructors (god bless them!) chasing each other and overall creating (some really cute!) chaos. What the what? This was not what we paid a hefty fee for, purchased team pictures and a preppy little uniform for... I want my money back. My kid is out past the high grass, watching cheer practice in another field (see I Hate My Daugher-in-Law for additional feelings on this topic). Ok, so we got over the fact that he was young and this was his first go at it... and realized that he wasn't the only one squinting through grass blades and sunglare to catch a glimpse of Brittney and LiLo's pom-poms. Flash forward to next season. 'Dad, I want to play baseball like the big kids.' Conveniently forgetting the agony we just put ourselves through barely a year earlier, we hop right over to the local Y, sign him up and... what a minute. Oh, right - that's how this is going to go. 95 degrees. 5 year-olds catching bugs (some eating them) and ten time-outs to pee. But he got a really cool tee-shirt and hat this time.
We admit it. It's our fault. We thought - fun, yay, new year, new team, he'll be playing with friends and he wants to do this. What we failed to remember is that 6 year-olds change their mind like Apple upgrades it's i-products... we need an i-Sports gadget to keep up with all of this hoopla: snack duty, gear, schedules, remembering to wash the uniform...
As we close out another season (oh, wait says my husband - don't forget about playoffs!) I have learned this: it's ok to run at your own pace when it comes to youth sports. Whether your kids are scholarship-bound or just playing for fun... it's ok and I'm not going to stress about it. He'll find something he really loves and we'll be there to support him.
We're just along for the ride... mostly to manage the car pool.
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