If Parenting were a Sport

I saw MamaKat tweet a comment that got me to thinking.

She said, "If parenting were a sport, I would be an Olympic athlete."

And it got me to thinking.

If parenting were a sport, 

it'd be an obstacle course, downhill ski, and marathon 

all-in-one.

You'd start off blindfolded too. 

You would think you new the course ahead of time 

but it could change AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT.

And things could be thrown at you as you barrel down deep slopes and you have to deflect them.

And people can hurl insults at you...

or advice on how to finish, 

and you can ignore or listen.

You never know which advice might be useful 

or which is designed to trip you up 

or is useless.

It's a sport you think you can train for, but you really can't.

and each person's course is completely different...so you can't cheat.

It's the ultimate sport.

Some people compete in teams...couples or groups of family or friends...

You have no idea how long the race will last, but it's a marathon of epic proportions.

Face it, you'll get dirty, you'll sweat and bleed, but

as you clear each obstacle, the reward would be worth it. 

Each and every time.

Sunday Sermon

. . . And this our life exempt from public haunt
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones . . .

Yes, I've used this quote before ; maybe it's being an old English major that has me seeing a sermon in these plants..

Now, what I wonder is if any of you see it too?






Hint: I'm thinking about parenting.

The Complexity of a Seven-Year-Old

Before you read this post, you need to know:
These photo were taken LAST YEAR.





Remy is a natural at sports.
He loves playing all sports.
He's played soccer, baseball & basketball for several years now.

Well, this winter, it came time to sign up for baseball.
So, I signed him up, like always.





Then, a couple of weeks ago, it was time for the first practice.
And Remy informed me he did NOT want to play baseball.
He told me he hated baseball.
He said I forced him to sign up.

I was confused.
Is this not the same child who loved baseball last year?
And the year before?
And the year before?

The same child who has played baseball for three years and excels at it?






Apparently.

Well, I talked him into going to the first practice...but I couldn't take him because I had to work.
His dad took him.
And it did not go well.

He spent the entire practice under a park bench crying.
My husband had gotten him there a few minutes late, which if you know Remy at all, you know he HATES being late. And this was a new team, he didn't know anyone. So, he was uncomfortable. All those things combined made for an unhappy Remy unwilling to try.

And after that, he said NO MORE BASEBALL.






But, with a mother's intuition, I knew I had to keep trying.

I bribed him.
I said, "Remy, if you try one practice and one game, I'll buy you that Indiana Jones Lego kit you want."

After some hedging...and perhaps me pulling up said lego kit on Amazon to temp him...he agreed.

And yesterday was another practice.
He went.
He played.
He played REALLY well.
He got his uniform.
He liked it.

"Mama, I love baseball."





Why does parenting have to be so complicated?!