I’m pretty sure I just got disinvited from being a spectator at my own kids sport by my own kid.
Can she even do that? That MUST be against the rules? As you all know: One of the main payoffs from all the facets involved in parenting a junior athlete is occasionally living your dreams through them. I do it privately of course but I admit to doing it. I love bursting with pride, who doesn’t? I love being there to give the reassuring nod from the sidelines should it be required.
Incidentally I give EXCELLENT reassuring looks. Squinty and warm with just a touch of arse kicking around the sides. Needless to say, I didn’t react to this snub well.
My eldest child is about to start playing Netty in a new team, she plays centre, generally dominates the play and has excellent feet (that’s Netty talk you won’t get it if you aren’t into Netty. By the by: Netty is netball.) We were in the kitchen a couple of nights ago and I said to her:
“Babes will all your games be at the leisure centre? I was thinking each week I can just run down there with the dog and we can walk home together.”
I had this vision of her and I walking back tossing the ball between us, getting hot chocolates you know; just hanging out. I can also confirm “Wind beneath my wings” was playing, I was her age and there was a great deal of super slow mo involved.
“Mum, I don’t need you to come to my games okay? I will be fine. Just pick me up after it finishes.”
Yes. She totally said that, like it aint no thang.
“What do you even mean?! Since when does NEED come into it mate?! I enjoy watching you play, you are really good. I played Netty, Netty is OUR THING.”
I was losing her.. I could see her eyes glazing over, this conversation was well over. How long had she been working up to having that chat with me? I needed more information. Was I a bad supporter?! I didn’t think so. I am so far from the worst side lines Mum, one lady insists on turning up each week in the team uniform. Skirt and all!
She doesn’t coach and I am extremely certain she doesn’t play. She sits in her little rusty fold out chair, has a tartan thermos, a basket full of food and she basically abuses/coaches anyone that comes into her field of vision – umpires include. If goals are scored I clap politely, like I’m at the golf. Not a woo or a hoo to be seen. I even contain the fist pumping to internal ones.