It’s the time of year when everything starts up again: school, church groups, and all those extracurricular events. In our house that includes sports, and plenty of it. But I have a love hate relationship with sports.
I LOVE the competition—the thrill of sitting on the edge of my seat, watching the clock wind down or the score nearing “game point” and routing for the kids.
I HATE the time it robs from our family. We always eat dinner together but sometimes those school team practices mean we are force feeding Levi as his head bobs and his eyes are half closed.
I LOVE the exercise—the sweating and out-of-breath feeling I normally despise on the treadmill, is hardly noticeable as I play a game.
I HATE the single minded focus it seems to create in the men in my life. One of my early memories is of trying to get my dad’s attention on a Saturday night while he was watching Hockey Night in Canada. Impossible!! The house could burn down around him. Same goes for some of the Canucks fans in my house. Chit chat is out of the question. Who doesn’t enjoy watching a game while at the same time carrying on a conversation? I’ll tell you who, Steve and Caleb!!
I LOVE that my kids are active, healthy, and engaged in something they enjoy—and it doesn’t involve a computer/iPod/TV or screen of any kind.
I HATE the cost. Can I really justify spending that much money on hockey equipment, used or not, when a month from now it will be too small on Aiden or half rotten due to being pickled in sweat for weeks?
I LOVE going to my kids’ games—cheering them on and the comradery of sitting with other parents.
I HATE that someone loses—the nurturing mom side of me wants everyone to be happy, but the nature of sport is that there’s a winner and a loser.
I LOVE how my boys are learning valuable lessons—teamwork and sportsmanship, putting forth your best regardless of the outcome, setting aside your desires and riding the pine on occasion for the benefit of the team or someone else.
I HATE that somewhere inside of me there is this monster lurking —I keep it well hidden but it threatens to rear its ugly head whenever I perceive an injustice toward one of my kids or their team.
I LOVE seeing my kids excel—watching them move from grade 6 when every volleyball is served into the net, to the impressive spikes and jump serves of the Senior Boys.
I HATE that some kids sit, a lot—if my kid is playing, my heart aches for those stuck on the bench but then when my kid sits…I’m wondering if the coach needs his head examined!! (That’s why that ugly monster needs to stay hidden!)
I LOVE it that my teenager would rather watch a gentlemanly game of golf played on TV then any of the morally bereft junk that is available for teenagers to watch.
I HATE seeing a child walk through the doors after tryouts with that sad look on their face. Not making the team is a devastating blow to a kid and it’s a hurt that a mom can’t make right for them. And as mom, that is what I hate most of all.
I LOVE winning—I can’t deny it. It’s exhilarating to face an opponent and come out victorious, even if it is only my 6 year old. Kidding!! Sort of. But since he’s about the only one left around here that I can consistently beat, let me tell you, I seriously whoop it up when I beat one of the older ones at a game of tether ball or 21 at the basketball hoop!!