Eye on the Ball

I never played sports as a kid. I am fairly athletic; at least, I think I am. We will overlook the fact I am painfully slow and a bit clumsy. I wanted to play and am positive I would have been a superstar.

So I have done what any good American mother does, live vicariously through her offspring. It could be the reason I have six of them, offspring that is, to make sure I cover all the basics: baseball, football, soccer, dance, and gymnastics.

Sometimes, if the planets align just right, I can get a couple of glorious sports all in one day. Those days are spent bragging about my abilities. As my oldest daughter kicks the winning soccer goal, I proceed with my "she gets it from me." My son's base hit, of course, "he is just like his mom." When my middle daughter is trying out for gymnastics, I assure them that, like her mother, she is talented. Even when my youngest daughter reminds a fellow classmate that she is blocking her spot center stage with a "gentle" shove, I claim credit for that with a "she has her mama's temper."

Most importantly I have learned a thing or two from my, I mean, my kid's time with sports. Like a few months ago while my son was at batting practice, I had an epiphany.

My son hits like Babe Ruth, either smacks it out of the park or strikes out. My son's coach stopped practice and had a heart to heart with him. "Son, stop looking forward. Your eye needs to be on the ball so you can see where to hit. I promise if you hit a home run, you will hear your mom scream loud enough the whole ball park will know did."

Wow, how many times have I done that? Not screamed really loud but become so focused on what's behind me or in front of me that I lose track of what's next to me. How many times when my oldest was younger did I wish he would just grow out of a certain stage but now I would give anything to go back to when I was "cool" and steal hugs and kisses? How many times did I tell my daughter to be quiet when she was telling me a story and now I can't get her to tell me about her day? Those sleepless nights that the only comfort I received was "this will pass" are now haunting memories of when I was honored enough to spend quality time with the most amazing spirits I have ever had the privilege of meeting.

I am blessed to have six little sweethearts on this journey with me. I try to remember that when my two year old pours shampoo, toothpaste, shaving cream, and glitter on my carpet all in one day. This time, I try to laugh because the love I show him this moment will outlast the carpet. When my newborn cried at 3 AM and I have to be up at 5, I am trying to take the time to get to know my little guy and steal those kisses before the sad day when he won't want me there to kiss away his troubles. If I want a healthy fufilling relationship with my children in the future, then I'm going to have to keep my eye on the ball right now.