The Mantra of the Sports Parent: Please Let That Be Rain

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I spend about a third of my life sleeping, another third pondering dinner options, and the final third at various youth sports events, cheering on my kids as they tackle soccer, basketball, lacrosse, and football. This extensive time on the sidelines often leads to some serious soul-searching—along with the occasional indulgence in a pack of Sour Patch Kids, which is one of the few places an adult can enjoy them without being judged.

While I genuinely relish watching my kids compete—or, let’s be honest, sometimes just sit on the bench—after attending game number 1,038 of the year, it gets challenging to stay fully engaged. My thoughts often drift in amusing directions, such as:

  • Why is our field always the farthest one from the parking lot?
  • Did I really forget to bring a blanket again? Oh, wait, it’s in the car, but the dog threw up on it. Should I grab it? Ugh, no, not unless it gets freezing.
  • This chair is so uncomfortable. Why do I always pick the broken one? I’ll just stay here until everyone else leaves before I attempt to escape. My knees are practically touching my chin. Just smile—nobody can tell.
  • How old are the kids on the opposing team? Seriously, that one looks like he could drive. Does he have a mustache?
  • I love this sport, but do I have cankles?
  • Am I the only one still rocking capris? Shopping is definitely in order.
  • Is there a bar nearby?
  • How much game time did my son actually get? Three minutes? I should really get an app to track that. Mmm, apps… now I’m craving buffalo chicken dip.
  • Wait, was that a raindrop? I hope so.
  • Wow, that guy is loud. Oh, wait, that’s my husband. Not a jerk; I must be exhausted.
  • Is that a bee? Oh no, I can’t get out of this chair!
  • Why is it so chilly for spring?
  • I wish I could find that blanket again. Ugh, laundry is never-ending. We need a new kitchen table. Speaking of which, where is my son? What number is he? Why is that other kid always playing? Ah, the coach’s son. He just scored? Seriously?
  • Oh no, she’s coming over to chat. What’s her name again? Just look straight ahead.
  • I like her hair. Mine’s a disaster.
  • I definitely felt rain.
  • What should I make for dinner? Do we even need to eat tonight?
  • I have to pee, but it’s a trek to the bathroom. Those restrooms are always filthy. I can hold it; I’m stuck in this chair anyway.
  • Did I forget my fleece again? Go team!
  • Do I sound too loud? I’m channeling my inner Rosie O’Donnell.
  • Where is that bar?
  • What’s the score?
  • Is the game almost over? Where did I park? Where’s my other kid? Where are you now that I need you? Oh great, now I have Justin Bieber stuck in my head.
  • I could go for shrimp and linguine with a glass of wine. Is that random?
  • Did I even bring my other child?
  • Do I hear thunder?
  • Time for some photos—oh, memory full! Delete, delete, delete… oh cute! Delete. What’s the score? Overtime? No, please, no.
  • I really need to pee. Was that rain? Please let that be rain.

This reflection is a reminder of the chaotic yet joyful life of a sports parent, filled with endless games, thoughts, and the occasional desire for rain to end it all.

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Summary:

The life of a sports parent is filled with endless games, thoughts about dinner, and occasional philosophical musings during the long hours on the sidelines. As they juggle the chaos of cheering on their kids, they often find themselves distracted by the little things in life, from uncomfortable chairs to the desire for rain.