Track Mom, or How I Learned to Stop Living and Love the Sport

Sorry, Dr Strangelove reference there in the title.

Track has been my life since mid March.  Three days a week, we are at the track field for practice.  At least one other day a week I've been trying to run Boy on the 2.3 mile trek we chose through the neighborhood.  I now live, breathe, sleep, and eat track.  Everything in my life is now centered on how long I have to do x,y, and z before we have to be at the field or be sure Boy does x,y, and z so he can do well at the field.

We've done some organized sports in the past, but nothing like this.  Boy is not...athletically gifted...but in track, he has found something he is passionate about and wants to pursue.  So I'm supporting it and by supporting it, I mean dropping what little time I had outside of work to shuttle him back and forth.

I've heard Hockey Moms have it worse...dear god, 6 am practice.  *shudder*

But Boy is doing well and he's grown in confidence by leaps and bounds, I will do what is needed to keep him going.  Watching him run and improve his strength, stamina, and time makes me swell to the point of bursting with pride.  Another great benefit is that Boy is no longer allowed to be picky, he must eat a variety of foods to feed his body's needs so that he can become a better athlete, which means I get to Cook All The Things!!!! that I haven't gotten to cook in ages.  It's very liberating for my dusty cookbooks and food blog.

Yesterday was his second track meet and he did pretty well.  Track meets aren't as bad as I thought they were going to be, especially since I found a canopy on sale at the local sporting store for $50.  That made a world of difference, I was able to set up my own little kingdom in the shade and sit there drinking, snacking, and knitting in a leisurely comfort away from all the chaos of kids that don't belong to me...except when they realized I'm a Nice Mom who doesn't scream and yell and brings things like coloring books, toys, games, and movies.  Sigh.  Still it was nice and not too hot between the shade and breeze.

Boy is really starting to get the "you're a girl" comments because of his long hair, but he handles it well and once his gender is established within the group he makes friends fast.  He's now part of the Three Musketeers and very proud of this fact.  I'm thinking he's about the right age for the book so I'll download it for his Kindle app and encourage him to read it before showing him the movie (if it's age appropriate, I honestly can't remember because it's been so long).

Of course, what is a brag post about my kids without pictures?

100 Meter Dash

 Long Jump (8'10"!!!! and that was his shortest jump)

Why I Hate Mother's Day

Uh oh, I haven't posted in forever and I barge in with an emotive blog post, but here it goes.

I've always hated Mother's Day.  Growing up without a mother, I'd have to make crafts for my dad at church or school instead of my mom which always caused teasing or questions.  The worst of all was "where's your mom?" because back in the 80s, moms still raised their kids.  It was unheard of to have a single father back then. I had several friends with single moms, but none with a single father.  Of course, when I was questioned, I would answer with a childish blunt honesty "she killed herself."  Aaaaaand...cue awkwardness.

Mother's Day was always a reminder of what I didn't have and never would have again.

When I got pregnant I kind of admit I got hopeful about Mother's Day since yay! I'm a mom now, it can be a good day again, but it wasn't.  He Who Shall Not Be Named never really did much for me on Mother's Day because he either was away or just didn't care.  There were some half-hearted efforts lest he infuriates the woman he was with, but sincerity was lacking and it wasn't quite right.

It just fell flat and was a disappointment.

I often wondered to myself if I'd built the holiday up too much in my mind, but many of my friends would post images on various message boards, blogs, and groups of their breakfast in bed, gifts of drawings and flowers, and time off from the day in and day out drudgery of motherhood.  I didn't get that.  I'd get flowers, or I'd get take out for breakfast, and I was grateful for what I got, but it was never a day of being treasured or feeling truly valued.

So boo to Mother's Day.  Hooray for wine! (but not whine because I love my kids and my life is pretty darn good too).

Because it's Mother's Day, I treated myself to my favorite breakfast, carrot pancakes with cream cheese spread.  It's a bit of work, but worth it.