A confession; I am not looking forward to my kids playing sport.
I don’t watch sport. I can watch sport and have been known to watch and even enjoy an Aussie Rules grand final and I get mildly enthusiastic when the Olympics rolls around.
I would rather die than watch cricket.
So. Not looking forward to the playing of the sport by my kiddos.
I was at the gym. And while at the gym, I had a couple of epiphanies.
- When I need help, I put on a persona I’m calling ‘cute and helpless’ – I discovered this when a weights machine I wanted to use had been adjusted for a different exercise than the one I needed it for and I had no clue how to change it. Cue ‘cute and helpless’ – and voila! – a big muscle man interrupted his workout to sort me out. Excellent. And embarrassing. I practically giggled as I said, “Umm, do you know how to change this?”
- Working out at night is definitely best for me. I don’t know why but I feel stronger and have more energy. And if that makes any sense to you, let me know.
- Watching my kids play sport is actually going to be awesome.
My gym is the local YMCA. The warm down room has a window that looks out onto the inside basketball court. I was on the stepper machine in the warm down room (not warming down – I make my own rules, man) and being that it's directly in front of the window, I was feeling a tiny bit self-conscious about the fact that there were a bunch of young boys (under 14s, under 15s maybe?) playing basketball on the other side of that window. I quickly got over it (I’m a sweaty 30-something and they’re kids engrossed in their game – no-one is looking at you, old lady) and started watching the game. And I found myself grinning like an idiot as these sweet boys were running up and down the court, dribbling, ducking and weaving. Some were natural athletes, graceful in their movements. Others were kind of gawky in that way kids are when they’re not quite grown into their bodies yet. But all of them looked to be having fun, expelling some of that energy that young boys brim with.
And as I watched the game, I tried to imagine what it might be like to watch my own kids playing. And it made me grin some more. How did I not realise how invested I am going to be if it is my own little person running around on that court or field. I'm going to be insane with pride. I don’t know if they’ll have a natural affinity for sport (hahaha – just thinking about B and I, I'm tipping NO) but I’ll certainly be encouraging them to find a physical activity that they love doing*. Boys especially need an outlet for that surging testosterone**.
Except cricket. They’re not allowed to play cricket.
* No, not that.
**Seriously, mind out of the gutter please!