I’m not sporty. At all.
However, I was decent at high school biology. I knew that with human reproduction came the risks of producing offspring with completely different personalities, interests and skills to mine.
Nonetheless, when my children announced that they were keen on extra-curricular activities of the non-sitting-down kind, I admit to being a bit surprised.
When there were whispers from other adults that my kids might actually have some athletic abilities, I was even more surprised. Especially as my sporting skills run more to the following:
The following commentary is based on the reluctant-sports-parent-subtype of bad soccer mums, as opposed to the screaming-from-the-sidelines-and-punching-the-ref variety (which will be covered in another blog once I’ve worked out which member of the Stuck On You Crew will admit to being one of these).
YOU KNOW YOU’RE A RELUCTANT SOCCER MUM WHEN…
You did a rain dance last night.
You’re annoyed it didn’t work.
You’ve hit the snooze button on your alarm.
Oof, there’s a kid bouncing on you. Can’t hit snooze on that one. Better get up.
You try to convince little Jimmy that his slight sniffle might turn into full-blown pneumonia if he doesn’t sit this morning’s game out.
Little Jimmy wins. He’s fine and you’re still going to soccer.
On the way there, you have a little chat about whether he’d like to swap soccer for martial arts. For his own reflex and self-defence skills of course.
And not at all for: 1) the sleep-in-friendly hours; 2) the fact that it’s held indoors with comfortable seating for parents; 3) the fact that parents don’t even have to be there at all; 4) the fact that it’s not a team sport so none of the other kids or parents can get cross if little Jimmy stuffs up a bit…. Ahem.
No dice. Oh well, you tried.
You’re secretly glad you drive a tiny hatchback so no one will ask you to carpool or deliver the team’s equipment.
You arrive late and are forced to park in the only space left – between two people-movers. You worry about how you’re going to reverse out later without mowing down any children.
Jeepers, it’s freezing and you’re still half-asleep. But glass half full – free babysitting (sort of).
And eye candy. Hellooo Ollie’s Dad!