I hate sports. I don’t mind activity, but I hate competition. I get so stressed watching sporting events. My heart starts pounding, my hands get sweaty....I’m literally on the edge of my seat just waiting to get hit with a ball/puck/bat/bird doodoo. You name it, I’m expecting it to hit me.
But I’m the mom of boys.
And I LOVE being the mom of boys. SO MUCH. God got it right.
And yet, I still hate sports.
I’m just being honest.
But I love my boys more.
So tonight, I found myself sitting on the bleachers - but mostly just up chasing Wyatt - but I watched. I watched and my heart pounded every time a ball got hit his way. Will he get it? Will it roll right past him and he’ll spend 30 seconds looking for it? Will he be out there, not even paying attention? Will he catch it and be so excited that he forgets to throw it in? So many scenarios.
He was up to bat. Heart pounding, palms sweating (that’s me). And then, it happened. He got hit by a ball. It was horrible. It hit his elbow. I passed out. (Kidding)
Long (very long) story short - they went into overtime and Logan was completely terrified to bat again.
And THIS is why I hate sports.
But someday, I hope my boys read this. And I hope that through all of my jumbled words, what they really glean from this is that with even as much as I detest sporting events, I love my boys so much more. And so, the next 18 years of my life will likely be spent doing this.
And I will be their biggest fan.
