I am sitting here waiting for an email from the coach regarding Big Pants' baseball audition Sunday. I am 100% certain he made the team, except for a niggling 2% doubt and 23% lack of faith in humanity and 37% distrust of the idea of fairness winning out. Yes I do rock at math, thank you very much.
This was our first experience with having to show our abilities to make a team, and I tried my hardest. I made small talk with other moms, some of which were friendly and some of which viewed me as the enemy. I did not yell at my son to run faster, listen to the coach, or give it his all. I gave other kids a verbal "good job!" even though they were the competition. I did not baby my son and run out and give him water in between drills even though I really wanted to. I made a cute comment about right field to the coach, showing I was fun to have around.
In short, I think my audition as a sports-mom went well. (this is my blog, so of course it is all about me. If my son wants someone to go on and on about his athletic prowess he can start his own blog.)
I think I prepared him well for his try-out. We practiced every day for the four days leading up to it, and I did not even complain about being too hot or not wanting to run after balls. I pitched and threw and ran and even caught the ball a few times. I now know where my biceps are because of the dull pain they are radiating.
Big Pants and I talked about how we were just seeing if this team and coach would be a good match, and that there were four other leagues he could play in, so if the coach was too mean, we could easily go somewhere else. We talked about how even if he missed every swing at bat he was still super-fast at running and a great outfielder. I tried to erudite any potential self-doubt induced choke.
I encouraged him to create his own outfit of confidence for the try out. He went with baseball pants and hat from his summer team paired with his flag football t-shirt, and I even sewed his WV People In Parks merit badge to the sleeve that morning as he requested. I did not over-spray him with sunblock. I agreed that his lucky hat did indeed make him lucky and his mohawk surely made him run faster. My only intervention was in nixing the too-tight soccer socks from several years ago he was struggling into in favor of his brother's baseball socks that fit Big Pants perfectly. I realize that the soccer socks were black and matched his black T-shirt but I felt navy blue and free range of motion were a better choice.
As a non-sports-mama, I think I rose to the occasion and did a bang-up job. Oh, the kid? He did his best, played hard, had fun, and I couldn't have been prouder of him. I think we both knocked it out of the park.