Over the next two weeks, things at the Bird's Nest are really jam packed full of activity. My presence in the blog-o-sphere may be a little spotty. I apologize if you have not received the usual amount of comments, from me. I am trying to pop in as much as I can, and thought it would be fun if I posted about some of the stuff that's been keeping me busy- So Far, I posted about Living History and Gifted and Talented. Today's post is all about Field Day.
I look forward to Field Day at my kids school about as much as I look forward to getting a root canal without Novocaine. Every year, it's always the same. Hot, humid and buggy. The air swirling with dust, dirt and ripe with the smell of sweaty pits...not exactly my cup of tea. There is never anywhere for this old lady to cop a squat that's safe from fly balls or the blaring sun. Besides the less than stellar setting, my kids are not gifted athletes and it pains me greatly to sit idly by and watch them get pummeled. But bless their little hearts, even though they lack natural athleticism, they absolutely love Field Day and unlike me, look forward to it, year after year.
When I say my girls lack natural athleticism, I am not being modest on their behalves, I am being truthful. I take full responsibility here; it is I who lacks the prolific sports genes. I had really hoped they would inherit their father's talent and ability and not mine, but that didn't happen. Oh, my girls are such troopers too! They refuse to give up and always try their best. But to no avail. We have long since come to terms with the fact they will never be stellar athletes. My girls are very talented in other areas and The Husband and I are very proud of them. No matter what, they always have our unfailing support.
So, off I went, ready to lend them that support, despite the hot sun, bugs, dirt and my own overall lack of enthusiasm. After bumbling my way over to the field, (almost tripping on an errant soccer ball along the way I told you they get it from me!) I scanned the horizon in an attempt to locate my girls. My eyes quickly zeroed in and found Farrah. It's never too hard to find her. She is the biggest kid in her class. She is also, by far, the strongest. It looked like this year the boys on her team finally conceded this point and placed Farrah in the anchor position for tug-o-war. She grabbed that rope, planted her feet firmly on the ground and readied herself. When the whistle blew Farrah rose to the challenge and pulled with all of her might. It didn't take long before the kids on the other side toppled, hard. Sweet victory! It was nice for her to be able to experience a win and revel in her teams adoration for once. All in all, for daughter #2 Field Day had gotten off to a rare, wonderful start. I wondered, could this year be different? Did I dare to hope for a Field Day miracle- where my nonathletic girls might be able to enjoy victory for a change?
Those hopeful thoughts were squashed as soon as my eyes landed on my oldest. Again, it didn't take me long to spot her. It was a sad but familiar sight that greeted me. My daughter Faith's cute little tush waving back and forth in the air, as she failed to make it up and over the top of the obstacle course wall. She unsuccessfully tried to pull herself up at least a dozen more times before she finally made it over. But despite her struggles, she never gave up. And I have to give her props for that. Many kids who didn't make it over the first time would have just thrown in the towel. Not Faith; she was truly determined to make it, no matter how long it took. Of course, that delay cost her team precious time and they lost spectacularly.
Last but not least, I walked up and down the field in search of my youngest, to see how she fared this Field Day. Our school and field are not very big, yet my eyes must have swept back and forth at least a dozen times and I still couldn't place her. I changed tactics and instead of looking for her, I searched for her classmates. I found the Third Graders right away. There were all gathered around something. Ah, it was a crumpled form on the ground, clutching an ankle. I knew instantly in my mother's heart that form in the dirt, belonged to me. I rushed over and sure enough, it was Francesca, crying her little eyes out.
I am extremely grateful Francesca's ankle is only sprained, not broken. But the image and sounds of my poor uncoordinated kid, lying on the ground crying will haunt my thoughts and successfully provide me with one more reason to dread attending Field Day, once again, next year.
- Jersey Shore, United States
- In case any of my friends or family members actually read this Blog, please consider all Names, Characters, Places and Incidents to be the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are entirely COINCIDENTAL...Muaaah!! Now, really, about me: I bring the crazy wherever I go, so I've been told...I make fun of myself more than anyone else ever could. I hate: the awkward silence in elevators, watches with no numbers, picky eaters, Cancer and legalism. I love: coffee, stalking Hugh Jackman, my Spanx, COMMENTS, sarcasm and writing: Middle Grade, NA, YA Paranormal and Urban Fantasy.