How proud can one mother be!
It was my son’s first national competition and he finished 12th out of 30 gymnasts.
I was sitting in the grandstands with my mom, brother and sister in law next to me. Me with my heart in my throat and my stomach full of these GIANT butterflies… I can’t imagine how he must have been feeling! There I am, watching my son, and I’m wishing I could talk to him– just quickly, to remind him to keep his legs and arms straight, to keep his feet together, to look straight in front of him, that I could somehow give him a tip on how to ignore everyone around him so he doesn’t get distracted (like I haven’t already said it all.) I wondered if he’d got enough sleep, if he’d eaten enough, if he was drinking enough water, if I’d been supportive enough without putting unnecessary pressure on him. I wondered what his coach was telling him, was the coach any help? I was so hoping he’d have fun… “Oh please– please– please– let him bring a medal home. Maybe I can ask them to give him a special one ‘coz he’s so special, no that’s ridiculous, oh hell– maybe I should have just stayed at home!”
Is this just me– how on earth do other moms deal with things like this?
Anyhoo, the knucklehead is really proud of himself. He competed with the top 30 in the country and he’s ready to try again next year. I think maybe next year I’ll get me some tranquilisers or something…
I thank God every day that I can give my son the opportunity to do what he’s good at.