(said in my best Llug from Willow, "Not a woman???" voice)
At my children's sporting events, I feel a keen sense of discomfort, not unlike sitting in the dentist office reception area. (Please no root canal...)
I've been married to the very sporty Mr. Cutbait for twenty years next month and had a number of sporty children. Thankfully, some are more like me than like him, or I'd feel completely outnumbered in this land of mud and sweaty uniforms and insane frantic yelling parents. These people must surely come from another planet, or at least bleed a different color.
Normally I am OK with feeling so out of every sports loop. Today I can't shake it, so it's off to the self analysis room for me. What's my problem?
For one thing: Dude, I don't care which team wins. They should all have fun and be polite to each other. This is basketball, not brain surgery.
Two: I love my boy. He is cute and I like watching him play basketball. However, I'd be just as fine watching him do a funny dance, weed the garden, tell me what happened at school today, and pretty much anything else that doesn't require sitting on hard bleachers in a freezing gym with no cell phone service or access to food.
Three: Unless I know them, the other parents run the gamut from weird to odious to bad-smelling. Sometimes all three, and almost always loud and obnoxious. What's more, I'm pretty sure I put off a severe "I hate sports and I'm not that enthralled with you, either" vibe so again, unless we know each other, they keep their distance. It's a little lonely but it's probably for the best, given all the above reasons.
Fourth: The darling Mr. Cutbait, whose knowledge, skill, and interest in all things sporty leave me feeling practically crippled as a spectator. "How do they look as a team?" he just texted, on his way to our daughter's soccer tournament. Um, well... color-coordinated?
I might as well ask him how many generations ago his ancestors came from England - then we could have matching blank stares.
Fifth: I have no clue what's going on, so any sanctions the referees may foist on my child or his team seem completely unfair, bringing out my Mama Bear response. "HOW DARE THEY. Oh, my kid fouled another kid? Oh. Oops."
Sixth: Taking my youngest along. She is normally well-behaved, but today not so much, which probably heightened my "Why do I hate doing this so much?" anxiety.
It hits me today, again, that when you're a parent, you sometimes do things for your children for the sole reason that you love them. It's not enjoyable (I wish I felt differently). It seems like a gigantic waste of time (ditto). You can think of thirteen hundred different situations you'd rather be in than sitting behind some smelly shouting grandmother with your butt in pain (ditto again).
I miss whatever gene I was supposed to inherit that would somehow help me love sports. The Sports Force, sadly, is not with me.
Is a terrible mother AND references George Lucas movies too often,
Fisher Cutbait
5 comments:
I had to suffer through basketball. I loved football. I do care who wins, but I love that YOU are wondering if they color coordinate! That is awesome in my book. OH, I also like baseball, struggle to understand softball at times and only watch basketball to watch Brandon Davies IF someone tells me he is on. If not then I miss him.
Does everyone have to love spots? Not in my world. BTW- I rarely watch sports because my husband loathes watching sports and my brother ALWAYS watch, so I am often looking for something different to watch that will entertain me and not make me want to yell at the TV to people who won't listen to me anyway, never mind that they can't even hear me.
I actually like watching baseball and softball, probably because they're slow ("boring" is what my hubby says) and the rules are easier to understand, for me. Hit the ball, and run.
What I have guilt about is not loving watching my children do their thing. I don't know why I thought I would, since I'm not a sports fan, but it really bugs that I don't. They're my babies! I should love every good thing they do and enjoy! Maybe someday. :)
First of all, there is no such thing as too many George Lucas movie references.
Second, you are NOT a terrible mother. You are awesome. The fact that you go even though you don't love sports proves that.
I think terrible parents are those freaky ones that scream at their kids if they make a mistake while playing a sport.
Also, "GREAT! Now I have GUILT!"
Thanks Heff. I agree - no amount of quoting will ever do the genius of George Lucas justice.
Sketch, yes... If it weren't about this, I would have had guilt about something else. That gene DID show up ;)
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