On the Brink

It is a beautiful Saturday. The birds are chirping as the sun shines down. It’s mid 70’s with a gentle breeze. Perfect soccer weather. Big Man and Little Miss are luckily both in the same team, racing down the field as parents watch from the sidelines. I’ve looked so forward to getting my kiddos out on the field. I’ve dreamed of sharing the excitement of scoring a goal or stealing the ball with my kiddos. Basking in the thrill of competition. With many amazing years of soccer now in the past for me, I was thrilled when the littles agreed to give it a shot.

So here I sit, the kids all in their gear, hustling down the field, and they love it! They are smiling, they are running, they are actually attempting to play the game. I’m bursting with excitement. In my heart, that’s all I really wanted. So why am I yelling? Why am I screaming? I hear myself, I sound like a raving lunatic. This is madness! I’m out of my seat, jumping, yelling, pointing…

“Go! Run! Hustle! C’mom, get that ball!”

“Turn it! Turn it! Go!Go!Go!” 

I know that reads perhaps like encouragement, cheering on, that sort of thing. Really a big part of it was. But there was something else too. This little, voice in my head-frustrated, aggravated, competitive{?!?!?}…As the ball is easily stolen, the swarm of tiny people head back the other way, down the field, seemingly oblivious to my outburst. What am I thinking? These are 4 and 5 year olds for crying out loud! Perhaps it was all worse in my head. Maybe my outburst was stronger in my head than for the world to see, but it was there. There is a part, in me, that could {ahem} quite easily yell at my children on the field. A part in me that could demand winning above all else. A part in me that would get angry and frustrated at anything less than perfection. Scary. Like, super, punch-in-the-face scary.

I guess I’m lucky really. My kids are still so little, I have time. I haven’t ruined them yet. I’m standing on the ledge- a precipice of sorts- on the brink. Which parent will I be…? I know what my choice is, what’s yours?

Leanne

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