An Oldie But A Goodie...
Well. I have not been blogging as I should... That's for sure. But listen... It's basketball season. And Winter. And kids have to be places. And my husband and I have to go skiing. Because it's awesome. And because we needed the mountain air. Colorado was practically yelling our names. So we went. And it was the best time ever. And the bigs have had game after game and cross country meet after meet... The littles have games too. And 15,000 birthday parties to attend.... So, you see.. All sorts of outside influences have been pulling me away from this computer. But I'm back. And I promise to do better!
Between making memories and yelling at referees, I will BLOG my friends. I WILL blog...
For tonight, here is an oldie. It is fitting for the time of year. And yes, I still act like this. But a bit more mild. Maybe. Just a little. Except now, our 6 year old is also in basketball season. And daddy is coaching. Which makes my heart swell that much more. I love it. Everything about it. The season, the kids, the coach. LOVE. Times Infinity.
Enjoy this old article I initially wrote for Southlakemoms.com...
Oh, and please don't judge me. ;) I'm just a spirited mama just like you. Who happens to get a little worked up from time to time during basketball games. But it's been a good year... I haven't been asked to leave a single gym!
I am that mom. I am that mom at the sporting event that ends up sitting all by herself. The one that yells wildly and yes, even stomps her feet a time or two when there are calls from the ref that are so absurd, you wonder if he can truly see out of both of his eyeballs. I can’t help it. I’m ‘spirited’. I am not proud of this behavior, mind you. Even as I write these words I am a little tight in the chest, partly because I am re-living last night’s game and partly because I am worried sick someone will read this and a lightbulb will go off. Ding! THIS is HER! The woman at our game last night. Or last week. Or last year. At least I am remembered for something!
Each Saturday I give myself a nice, little pep talk. “No shouting this time around, you are scaring the children.” “Enjoy yourself like the normal parents sitting near you.” “You can do it!” I am making progress! Once I even made it through an entire half of a basketball game without muttering a single word. The second half, the wheels fell off and I let that referee have it up one side and down the other because evidently his whistle didn’t work! I thought my husband was going to have to break out the blood pressure cuff during the fourth quarter of that one.
I am pretty sure that I am not the only ‘spirited’ mom in the bleachers. And I hope that my poor, embarrassed children understand that the reason we get so into it is because we, as parents, want them to succeed. We want them to be the best they can be, we want them to win. Or, more than that, know the feeling of accomplishment. Working hard at something and having that hard work pay off. I struggle with this in the realm of parenting and sports. Even more so in my household since my husband is my daughter’s coach. (YIKES.) Are we pushing too much, not pushing enough? Making too big of deal out of it? Sports in Texas is craziness sometimes. I promise you, I tell my children before every game, “go out there and have FUN!” “Enjoy yourself!” But what I am really thinking inside my twisted head is, “you go out there and take this as serious as possible. Make your shots and win this game.” You see? I need a twelve step program.
After last night’s loss, my sweet, oldest, wise beyond her years, daughter said to me, “Mom, it is just a game.” She is right. And it wasn’t her words that spoke volumes to me. It was her soft face and the look in her eye. The way she had her hand softly on my forearm and left it there a really long time. Like she was talking me off of a ledge or something. Then she smiled a really big, freckle face smile that let me know that win or lose, I’ve got the prize right here. My little champions could care less rather they are seeded first place in the end of season tournament or sixth place. They just like to shoot the ball and run down the court with their buddies. They have no idea the referee is an idiot. That is, of course, until I open my big mouth...

Let us all remember, (especially me), in whatever situation we find ourselves in. A lot of the time, it’s just a game. Are we all worked up over something that really matters? Nah. Just small stuff. The big stuff is the husband coaching his babies, beaming with pride. The smile that spreads across your little girls face when she shoots a ten-footer and it swooshes through the net, surprising her. The pony-tailed girls high-fiving each other, learning the meaning of TEAM. Those are the big moments. Not the scoreboard. Or the goof-ball wearing the black and white striped shirt NOT blowing his whistle.
Between making memories and yelling at referees, I will BLOG my friends. I WILL blog...
For tonight, here is an oldie. It is fitting for the time of year. And yes, I still act like this. But a bit more mild. Maybe. Just a little. Except now, our 6 year old is also in basketball season. And daddy is coaching. Which makes my heart swell that much more. I love it. Everything about it. The season, the kids, the coach. LOVE. Times Infinity.
Enjoy this old article I initially wrote for Southlakemoms.com...
Oh, and please don't judge me. ;) I'm just a spirited mama just like you. Who happens to get a little worked up from time to time during basketball games. But it's been a good year... I haven't been asked to leave a single gym!
JUST A GAME
I am that mom. I am that mom at the sporting event that ends up sitting all by herself. The one that yells wildly and yes, even stomps her feet a time or two when there are calls from the ref that are so absurd, you wonder if he can truly see out of both of his eyeballs. I can’t help it. I’m ‘spirited’. I am not proud of this behavior, mind you. Even as I write these words I am a little tight in the chest, partly because I am re-living last night’s game and partly because I am worried sick someone will read this and a lightbulb will go off. Ding! THIS is HER! The woman at our game last night. Or last week. Or last year. At least I am remembered for something!
Each Saturday I give myself a nice, little pep talk. “No shouting this time around, you are scaring the children.” “Enjoy yourself like the normal parents sitting near you.” “You can do it!” I am making progress! Once I even made it through an entire half of a basketball game without muttering a single word. The second half, the wheels fell off and I let that referee have it up one side and down the other because evidently his whistle didn’t work! I thought my husband was going to have to break out the blood pressure cuff during the fourth quarter of that one.
I am pretty sure that I am not the only ‘spirited’ mom in the bleachers. And I hope that my poor, embarrassed children understand that the reason we get so into it is because we, as parents, want them to succeed. We want them to be the best they can be, we want them to win. Or, more than that, know the feeling of accomplishment. Working hard at something and having that hard work pay off. I struggle with this in the realm of parenting and sports. Even more so in my household since my husband is my daughter’s coach. (YIKES.) Are we pushing too much, not pushing enough? Making too big of deal out of it? Sports in Texas is craziness sometimes. I promise you, I tell my children before every game, “go out there and have FUN!” “Enjoy yourself!” But what I am really thinking inside my twisted head is, “you go out there and take this as serious as possible. Make your shots and win this game.” You see? I need a twelve step program.
After last night’s loss, my sweet, oldest, wise beyond her years, daughter said to me, “Mom, it is just a game.” She is right. And it wasn’t her words that spoke volumes to me. It was her soft face and the look in her eye. The way she had her hand softly on my forearm and left it there a really long time. Like she was talking me off of a ledge or something. Then she smiled a really big, freckle face smile that let me know that win or lose, I’ve got the prize right here. My little champions could care less rather they are seeded first place in the end of season tournament or sixth place. They just like to shoot the ball and run down the court with their buddies. They have no idea the referee is an idiot. That is, of course, until I open my big mouth...

Let us all remember, (especially me), in whatever situation we find ourselves in. A lot of the time, it’s just a game. Are we all worked up over something that really matters? Nah. Just small stuff. The big stuff is the husband coaching his babies, beaming with pride. The smile that spreads across your little girls face when she shoots a ten-footer and it swooshes through the net, surprising her. The pony-tailed girls high-fiving each other, learning the meaning of TEAM. Those are the big moments. Not the scoreboard. Or the goof-ball wearing the black and white striped shirt NOT blowing his whistle.
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