Daughters,
There is so many ways I could begin this post, but I've decided on beginning by throwing my own parents under the bus like any respectable daughter would do. Lets just say without sounding too caddy that everything Jason said he didn't want to do, they did. But with class, if that's possible. They weren't the type of parents that got kicked out of the game or anything. So take that worst possible image in your head and take it down like a lot of notches. In fact, they were the model parents on the side lines and would just obsess behind the scenes (for hours, no biggie). And sign me up for those dreaded one-week camps on the pre-internet. Which, now hindsight makes me laugh hysterically. It drove my brother crazy then, which also makes me laugh hysterically. At the time, deep in my soccer career (and by career, I mean high school age) they seemed more like the parents described as above, and I oddly liked the attention. But now, and as I parent myself, they showed such love and support through their obsession over every. single. play. And I kind of get it.
But is that a picture from my childhood above you ask? You know, the one where the baby who cant sit up unassisted somehow also is in baby shin guards and cleats (all for their parents amusement). No, that would most defiantly be you my oldest daughter and my hands holding you up as said parent. Yeah, I went there. But that was when I was still in the hopeful stage. Now, I’m like whatever floats your boat we’ll sign up for. Yes-haw!
And because I am really just beginning this whole sport parent thing (with your consent). I figured I could still abide by Jason's rules-ish. Perhaps just with a little of me in there:
I know I’ll be restrained (never got a yellow or red card in my life, thank you very much).
I will try to maintain proper perspective.
I will care more than the proper amount, but that’s because I care too much about everything and everyone.
I will never yell (only in my head). But I will cheer loudly.
I will never push (only in my head).
I will never walk home after a game and relive a bad play or missed opportunity, except for in the car and then again at home and probably, most definitely, again the next morning.
I will not live vicariously through your sports. Been there, hope you do even better. Did I mention I can’t even do a cartwheel?!
I will not pick fights over playing time. But if you are working really hard, playing well (and are talented), then you bet your little cute tushy that I’m saying something to the coach (in an e-mail).
I will not peruse intense one-week off-season sports camps on the internet or elsewhere unless you really want to go- period. Maybe a three-day golf camp though.
We will keep things amateur and loose until you decide you want to go big.
I will probably coach; oh wait, I already have. Except not in anything but soccer.
I will want to do things the right way; wins feel great but will also handle the losses. -Just can’t stand kids that sign up but don’t try and goof off the whole time. Don’t be said kid!
Will (obsess minimally).
Will be the exception to crazy parenting. Just cool-ish.
Will be (and raise you both as) an example for the rest of the league,
Mom
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