I am not a sports person. I do not like to watch sports on tv. I do not like to attend sporting events (if I must endure one I bring a book). I did play soccer and volleyball growing up, but not for the love of sports. I started playing soccer in grade school because I was sick of watching my brothers play. I figured it had to be better to play than watch. I continued playing on through high school, partially because I enjoyed it and it was good exercise, but also because - I admit - we practiced at the same time as the football team. I enjoyed playing volleyball in Jr. High, but was never any good at anything besides setting the ball. (In fact, I got a C+ in my volleyball class at BYU for my lack of skills) And don't get me started on my memories of my mother terrorizing me for my lack of athletic ability in softball when she was the coach of our young women's softball team. (I still maintain it is okay to run like a girl if you ARE a girl) The point of this? I avoid sports for the most part.
So, guess how I now spend my nights and weekends? Watching my children compete in their various sporting events. Gymnastics, soccer, volleyball, softball, tennis - they play them all. And I can't bring a book when it is my own child. The only sport they have stopped doing is basketball (unfortunately Alan's favorite). Don't get me wrong, I love my children and I cheer them on as any proud parent would. I just never invisioned my girls as athletes. I thought I was safe from living the life of a sports mom until a son came along. Silly me. They seem to have inheirited their daddy's love of sports. So now I just laugh at my life. Who would have thought?
No comments:
Post a Comment