Mom's of Fall
So many topics could come from this heading... but today it's the obvious (and the not so much). Mom's of Fall. We are there when our babies are on the field laying it all out on the line. When they come off defeated or in victory, we are there with an encouraging smile or a "Hell ya, that's my Boy!"
I think the hardest part of watching your son play the sport is the desire he has to win for his team (his 'other family'). The desire he has to make sure he plays the best game of his life. The desire he has for his 'other family'. It's the hardest, but also the most rewarding. You hope and pray that he takes that desire with him throughout the rest of his days and lives his life just like he plays the game. Leave it all on the field with the desire in his heart to accomplish anything and actually do it.
As the Mom's of Fall, we are there at every game. We make sure they have a good breakfast, a snack for after school, and plenty of water on the field. We make sure they practice as hard as they would play a game and respect their coaches (no matter if we agree with them or not). And as the Mom's of Fall... we are often over looked. The prayers for our babies do not go unheard, but for some reason the praise does.
As a proud mother of three boys (14-Football, 11-Baseball, 6-Football) I have been through multiple stages of attitude, hormones, and dirt. But the one thing that remains constant is the pride I have when I see my boys under the lights. Knowing that I had something to do with that desire they have. Knowing that I had something to do with the respect they show their coaches and their 'other family'. Knowing that's MY child, MINE.
What I do not understand and what hurts the most is why are we over looked? Is it because we are always their constant? We always have their backs? We always make sure things are taken care of? We change our schedules to match theirs? Or is it teenage hormones and attitudes that drive a wedge between a mother and a son?
I know one day I won't have the rec leagues, stinky locker rooms, and SUV filled with equipment to deal with. One day it will all be over and I will look back to wonder if any of it was truly worth it. Was it worth biting my nails till they were gone? Was it worth yelling to the point of loosing my voice? Was it worth sitting in the rain all those nights? Was it worth watching my son run the field after a devastating loss to calm his nerves and attitude? Was it worth the unmistakable feeling of my heart sinking when he didn't get up off the field?
I may never know the answers to these questions, and honestly I think I'm OK with that. As a Mom of Fall I will continue to instill the love of the game (and life) into my boys. I will continue to be there in victory or defeat. I will continue to be there when the 'other family' let's them down. I will continue to be their constant. I will continue to bite my nails until they are gone. I will continue to loose my voice at every game. I will continue to carry an umbrella in my SUV. I will continue to sit in silent support as the lights go out in the stadium while he comes back down to Earth. I will continue to pray that my son get's up off the field.
I will continue no matter the attitude, hormones, or dirt... because I am a Mom of Fall.