The thought of practicing “diving headers”, while the ground is soft enough to swallow cleatless-shoes and drops of half-frozen rain skitter from the sky, makes me shiver. To my daughter, this was the most fun practice she had all season. In mud from the front of her face to the heels on her socks, she was still giggling as she hopped in the shower to scrub down.
While she was writhing in mud, I was cheering on my son as he scored a goal during his soccer game, wrapped in a down sleeping bag, wearing my hat and gloves. This would be followed later in the day by opening baseball day in the same stop-and-go relentless windy rain.
My friends and I watched that never-ending baseball game yesterday, knowing it was part of the mom (and dad) job description to suffer through the game hoping for one successful hit or a catch, the latter rare for 8-year-olds.
Yes, my weekends and after-school time is filled watching endless soccer, baseball, and basketball games, concerts and dance recitals, boys climbing trees and me cleaning the scrapes that follow the fall, tennis in the driveway, practicing spelling words, which is the new High School Musical poster on the wall?, tears after a bad game, testing the newest cookie recipe, wearing handmade jewelry, and paging through scores of school sheets.
It’s time-consuming, it’s wonderful, it’s spontaneous, it’s sometimes maddening, it’s eye-opening, it’s stressful, and I hope for them to succeed in each endeavor they try. It’s my job, and I love it and the things my children teach me. I laugh with them, cry with them, cheer with them, scold them when they need it, and hug them even when they don’t.
I will suffer through the rain-filled days, because I know tomorrow may be sunny. With maybe a surprise sparkling rainbow in-between. C