I'm "That Mom" - Sports Edition; What Kind Are You?

This one has been building up inside me just waiting to boil over...

By now most of my readers know The McQ Zoo is a sports oriented family.  We all race BMX together, and our son wants to play everything else out there.  Baby Girl wants to do whatever her big bro is doing.  Mr. McQ comes from a long line of athletically talented family members, while I, on the other hand, contribute very little genetically to our offspring in the form of physical skills, but I'VE. GOT. HEART.  And folks, that's enough!

What I call "heart" equates to passion, perseverance, team spirit, encouragement, drive, dedication, and commitment.  I'm into it ALL THE WAY, every game, race, practice, etc.  I show up with my water bottle, focused, my butt in gear and ready to play!  But wait!  I'm not the coach?  I'm not the baseball player?  Sure, I might race every now and then, but let's face it, I'm not fast.  So why then?

Because I'm "That Mom."

Sometimes "That Mom" gets a bad wrap.   She is often misunderstood to be obsessed or controlling or too hovering...but before you judge me, let me tell you what I think of "That Mom" - Sports Edition.

"That Mom" always has her kid's best interests at heart.  She wants her kid to win, but more than anything, she wants her kid to believe he CAN win.  She shows up b/c being there is more important than anything else she has to do.  She cheers loudly, maybe even obnoxiously, b/c her kid would notice if she didn't and wonder if she was okay.  She corrects and instructs, and guides and lectures, all firmly and seriously b/c she knows her kid can handle it.  SHE KEEPS SCORE!  She tells him when he has done great, and she encourages him when he could do better.  She tells him there are more important things than winning, but she admits that winning makes it more fun!  She signs up to bring snack and she helps out the coaches, and she throws herself into the mix b/c she enjoys it, and she LOVES being a part of it WITH her kid.  She gets involved, meets people, asks questions, finds out how things work, so she can explain it to her family and teach them the rules.  She may not be a coach this time, but she has been there before, and she will be again.  She speaks up, takes chances, makes phone calls and sends emails to organize teams and make sure her kid gets to play b/c HE LOVES TO PLAY...and she loves him.

That "That Mom" is ME.  I'm super proud of the role I play in our sports family.  When Jack was a 3YO I spent weeks trying to find a 3YO t-ball league, and I finally found one almost 40 minutes away in rush hour traffic with practices on Monday nights at 5PM.  I didn't love the coaching of that one, so Mr. McQ and I decided to coach his next team together so that we could actually work on teaching skills and fundamentals to 3 and 4YOs. Volunteering to coach is a HUGE time commitment, but it was worth every minute.  The next spring I took Jack to a BMX clinic and coaxed him into his first race, against his will, yes, but totally knowing he could do it, and now he is #4 in the state in his age/class in his FIRST year of BMX racing.  His next t-ball team was awesome and embraced me inserting myself so kindly, that I reached out to the coaches after the season was over to find a way to keep the team together for their first season of real baseball.  Here we are now, with the same coaches and 6 of the original team, arguably the best team in Shetland 5U.  And just tonight I pleaded with the YMCA sports coordinator to accept Jack into a 6-7YO Basketball league since the Kindergarten one at Mt. Bethel was all full, and yes, I was able to convince them to let him "play up."

These are the kinds of things that "That Mom" does.  Maybe not the "That Mom" that you are or the "That Mom" that she is, but the"That Mom" that I am is exactly the "That Mom" above.

Ultimately, all moms are "That Mom" behind the scenes.  We all have our areas of expertise and things we like to contribute to the most, and we all shuffle our kids to and from and everywhere in between.  We stay up late for homework and skip baths and eat McDonald's and Chik-Fil-A way too often.  We wash uniforms in the middle of the night and buy new cleats on the way to practice.  We pump up tires and pack up coolers, and we write check after check after check after check.  Then we cash in on the joy that is watching our kids PLAY.  We cheer from the sideline, or maybe from the finish line, and yes, I might cheer too loudly...but that's just the "That Mom" that I am.

And I promise, for my kids, not to change.

I also promise to teach my kids good sportsmanship.  I promise to genuinely congratulate their opponents, and I promise to treat each coach, player, participant and parent with respect.  I promise to fully understand and relay the message of winning isn't everything while also implementing the concept of practice to improve.  I promise to lead by example, be honest and truthful, and never allow cheating.  I promise to teach my kids about commitment and what it means to be a team player.  I promise to promote optimism and a positive attitude.  I promise to instill a sense of both pride and humility in them for their craft.  And ultimately, I promise to learn about what they love, b/c I love them.

And being "That Mom" in sports works for me.  It works for us.  I've tried to be "That Mom" in other areas, like crafting or event planning, but there are way better suited "That Moms" out there for that, and I'm grateful to them.  Being any kind of mom is hard; we all wear so many hats, but I feel most comfortable in my element as "That Mom" - Sports Edition.

Being called "That Mom" is often not meant as a compliment.  The jokes can be hurtful and imply that "That Mom" is over the top, trying too hard or even attention-seeking, but more often than not, if you think someone is "That Mom" it is b/c you noticed them ENJOYING whatever element in which they are most comfortable.  The next time someone jokes about being "That Mom," take a minute to find out exactly what kind of "That Mom" she is...and then tell her what kind of "That Mom" you are!

Because we all have it in us to be "That Mom."

I Just Don't Understand

I just watched a video of a young man (if you can call him that) holding a dog from behind by his back legs and kicking him repeatedly in the stomach and ribs, then beating him over and over again while the  dog yelped and cried out in pain throughout this horrendous torture. Finally the dog wiggled free and took off running. The person recording, those standing idly by and the horrible one who performed this heinous act are sick and twisted. There are no words to adequately describe these people. I'm embarrassed to be part of a society that so cruelly disregards life, be it human or otherwise. 

I. Just. Don't. Understand. 

This is not the first time I've watched a disturbing video and felt sick to my stomach, angry to have come across it in the first place, but unable to ignore it. The victim in this one just happened to be an innocent dog, but sadly, I've seen similar videos of humans beating up defenseless humans. I'm not talking about a UFC fight with two consenting adults bashing each other's brains in by choice. I'm talking about the McDonald's employee who decided pulverizing another woman in front of her toddler was a good idea and threatening to kick him too when he tried to defend his mother. I'm talking about the kids who take bullying to a level so awful that the bullied would rather kill themselves than endure any more torture. I'm talking about the every day ordinary average Joe who watches dogs or chickens or tigers or children fight each other - often to death - and enjoys it.

I. Just. Don't. Understand. 

There is pain and suffering and natural selection and sickness and death all over this world. It is all in God's hands.  Why do we have to go and contribute to it by adding more unnecessarily?  I'm certain that God's plan doesn't entail some asshole human beating the ever-living crapola out of a poor puppy.  God doesn't demand that we hurt or kill or destroy anyone or anything. I don't need to quote a bible verse or scripture to know that. It's natural law. Seriously.

I'm not well-versed in politics, and I am not a big fan of war, however, I see the need for military defense and I am so grateful to those who risk their lives to protect our freedoms and keep us safe...but the violence as a result of defending a country is not the same as the senseless violence of cowards who think it funny to see another innocent life suffering. 

I. Just. Don't. Understand. 

I'm not even scratching the surface of all the disturbia that exists in this world. I'm barely shedding enough light on the specific cases I've personally seen. I'm just saying I don't understand any of it. 

People, there is nothing funny about another life suffering. Period. 

On What Dan Wrote...

This post is inspired by Single Dad Laughing's post, which can be found here: http://www.danoah.com/2010/09/you-just-broke-your-child.html.  My post is just another take on a similar experience.  I personally  enjoy Dan's blog, and I often agree with much of what he writes.

Once I saw a VERY TINY little girl, maybe 2 years old, mistreated in a Kohl's shopping center parking lot. I watched her run out of the store happily and very quickly. Her mother reached out and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her off the ground and smacked her on the bum/back of her legs yelling "I told you not to run out into the road!"  The little girl yelped and started to cry and as they made their way to their car, the mother screamed at her "Shut up! Shut up!" over and over again. Turns out I was parked directly across from them, and I sat in my car and watched as she threw and forcefully buckled that baby into her car seat. I got out of my car, and after the mother had closed her daughter's door, I DID speak up. I said something along the lines of "mam, you need to calm down, she doesn't deserve to be talked to like that..." The woman GLARED at me and said something I didn't catch under her breath, and I continued to walk into the store...but not without noticing this woman UNFASTENING her child.  About 2-3 minutes later she had FOLLOWED me inside...where she proceeded to yell at me, accuse me of being racist, swear at me, and shout many more horribly unpleasant comments about how "yall people" don't know how to raise children.  I was in line with a return. The store associate was afraid and called a manager. Other customers were trying to calm the woman down; a grandmotherly type even approached her with open arms to take the baby.  The entire time she was flying off the handle, she was holding her daughter who was scared and crying. I did not engage with her other than to say (paraphrased) I apologize for not minding my own business, but I felt sorry for her daughter and it was a gut reaction to what I saw. Most of the people in the store were her race, not mine, but they all seemed to be concerned for me, and several people remarked this (clearly) has nothing to do with race and even apologized to me!  Management escorted her out and made sure she left the premises and then asked me to move my car to a different spot, having Security walk me to the parking lot in case she was still out there. Then they gave me a discount on my purchase b/c I was evidently shaken up by the whole thing. Anyway, I told this story to my closest friends later...some of them were not surprised I said anything, but a few of them took a different approach, saying I could have handled it as a "teaching moment" and offered the lady some help or even just a sympathetic comment like, "looks like you are having a rough day; is there anything I can do for you?" At the time I didn't get it...but I thought about that day for quite awhile after it happened. Ultimately I decided this: the woman must have told her daughter NOT to run into the street, but the little girl DID anyway. The mother reacted out of fear for her child's safety and frustration from an already challenging shopping trip. Whether her reaction was overkill or not, it was probably not MY place to judge her, and if I'd been in the same position, I would have been furious at someone who butted in the way I did. I, however, would have chosen a different way of handling the situation that neither involved physical force or the phrase "shut up," but hey, to each her own...and I would never have a public fight with a stranger in front of my child...

As a mom myself, I have been in Target on more than one occasion with my 4YO son having a complete and total MELTDOWN in the checkout line over not getting a toy or something from the $1 bin or even just a pack of TicTacs! I have had to scold him for touching things or running off after I'd asked him not to SO MANY times. I've had to enforce a consequence (you lost the privilege of getting an ICEE on the way out b/c of your behavior), and endure the screams and stomping and even the angry little fists beating into my sides, BEGGING me for that stupid ICEE, and I've felt the sting of onlookers passing judgement, making assumptions and shaking their heads at me in those most embarrassing and vulnerable moments.  But the hardest part for me isn't the worrying about what those people think; it is the trying to get my child to learn appropriate behaviors!  I do not care one iota what some random person takes away from an encounter with me and my temporarily demon spawn!  Rather, I care about what message caving in will send said demon spawn about me as a parent or him as a child. The reality is I'm not going to reward bad behavior.  My kid throws a tantrum, he gets nothing.  He throws a bigger tantrum about getting nothing, he still gets nothing, and he may get an additional consequence.  He doesn't like said consequence, well too bad.  If this interaction consists of several harsh statements out of my mouth to my child, well, it happens.  He isn't broken.  Trust me.  

I've watched my demon spawn transform into an angel when he thinks he is going to get something he wants.  We may have pinkie-sworn in the car before going in that he would not ask for a toy or a treat this time; we are going in just for cat food, or we have to pick out a birthday present for a friend, or oh my goodness, this is our third time here in 2 days b/c I keep having to leave in the middle of a tantrum!  It doesn't matter.  Inevitably, he is going to ask me for something, and sometimes, most times, I am going to have to say the dreaded "no."  It would be worth the $1 bin item to prevent a tantrum...and I admit I have gone that route once or twice, but I absolutely CANNOT buy my kid a toy EVERY TIME we go to the store.  Period.  Not only do I not have enough money (the least of the reasons why), but I want to teach him principles like earning things and gratitude and patience and how about just some decent manners???  

So I have snapped at him.  I have grabbed him firmly by the arm and even squeezed his little cheeks between my thumb and fingers.  I've glared at him with evil eyes and steam coming out of my ears, my face red and the veins popping out of my neck.  And I've used my meanest mean-mommy voice to get my point across that "THIS IS NOT A JOKE! You better SHAPE UP, DUDE, or else you just wait til we get home!"

I have not said "shut up" to him.  I've never spanked him in public.  I have screamed at him with all my might when he has run out into the street before.  I was afraid then, that he would be hit by a car.  

At the time I called out the woman in the Kohl's parking lot, my son was about 9 months old.  He was my only child at the time, and regardless of my background as a nanny, things are MUCH different when the child is your own.  I'd yet to experience my baby walking and capable of running right into danger.  He was still in that "he can do no wrong" stage of of babyhood, you know, the one where he goes to slap your face and you gently catch his hand and chide "show mommy a gentle touch" over and over as you lead him to stroke your cheek instead.  To that point, the worst thing he'd gotten into was his own tube of Desitin he'd managed to grab during a routine diaper change.  He certainly had never run out into traffic!

Now he has.  And he has also dumped paint all over new carpet, intentionally, and he has broken toys that we warned were fragile.  He repeatedly jumps on the couch, despite our pleading for him not to, and let's not forget that he plays WAY too rough with his little sister, resulting once with her falling down half a flight of stairs.  He screams at the top of his lungs when he doesn't get his way, and almost every night there is a bedtime battle. He splashes so much in the bath that we worry about mold and water damage in the walls.  He demands to watch HIS shows on TV and FREAKS OUT if we switch to something we all might enjoy.  He whines and cries and he even throws tantrums in Target.

  

I'd be lying if I said I have never told him to leave me alone.  I'd be a fool to pretend I don't lose my temper when I've had more than my share of whining in one day.  I wouldn't claim to know how to handle every meltdown with grace and calmness.  The truth is I don't.  And I believe that is okay.  

Yep, I said it.  Sometimes it is okay to freak out on your kids.  Sometimes it is right to teach them a lesson with a threat of a consequence, or multiple consequences, or imposing complete and utter misery on their lives if they don't SHAPE UP.  On the rare occasion you've been to the bathroom by yourself more than once in a day, it might not be the best idea to tell your kids to leave you alone, but lordy-lordy, if you need them to leave you alone, by all means, TELL THEM.  You are a human being...with your own feelings and needs and thoughts and ideas and favorite TV shows and potty times.  Your children do not dictate your life, but you DO guide theirs!  Guide, not dictate, but if you have to pull out the (figurative) iron fist for a week to get things back in order, GO FOR IT!  And good luck to you!  I've been there, and I know you'll need it.  Both the luck and the iron fist...

But just so I'm clear...that same demon spawn is the most beautiful boy in the world.  His smile lights up my heart in a way that nothing else can, and angels sing in the sound of his laughter!  He is the sweetest little cuddle bug at night, and secretly I never want him to sleep in his own bed ALL the time.  I love to hug him and hold him and smother him in kisses and take little pretend bites out of his neck and inhale his little boy smell of sweat and peanut butter and hand-sanitizer.  I love to inspect him from head to toe and catch a first glimpse of a new freckle or a fresh boo-boo, and I feel like I can tell the moment he has grown even a millimeter taller than the day before.  I love his voice, and when he sings, I never want him to stop.  And we have the best conversations.  Just tonight we were driving along and he noticed the car in front of us had tail and brake lights that were shaped like eyes.  He wanted to count them, and so we did - there were 4, and then he said they were like laser blasters, and I laughed and told him how funny it was that he said that b/c the license plate on the car read "LAZRS" (it really did).  So the conversation moved on to Nerf guns and zombie strikers, and that is just how it goes.

I love him.  He and his sister are my greatest gifts. I have been blessed beyond my wildest dreams with the most amazing son, and I would not trade all the tantrums and whining in the world for him to be anyone other than who he is.  And I am very lucky b/c I know he will learn how to control himself and behave appropriately and make good choices, and someday we will go to Target just for his friend's birthday present without a scene or incident, and that will be a great day that we buy an ICEE on the way out, a reward for his good behavior.  B/c that's how I roll.

To Dan, a "Single Dad Pleading," you are quite obviously a wonderful father, but I don't know you.  Nor do I know what your day was like before you got to Costco.  Just like I didn't know about the woman at Kohl's.  And I realize your piece wasn't directed at me b/c I'm a great mom and I know it.  I'm not disagreeing with your feelings or advice or sentiments or even your passion and "heatedness," which personally, I find to be an excellent quality in your writing.  And quite frankly, we all have instincts that tell us when something just doesn't seem right.  Maybe it was when the boy's face went "expressionless" that sealed the deal for you; maybe THAT was the moment you wrote the story in your mind of what you were witnessing.  That's what I did.  For me it was when the woman yanked the little girl up so hard I thought her shoulder would have dislocated. Instantly, I felt sad for that child.  I wanted to rescue her!  

But you know what?  Despite the fact that I think that mama was bat-shit crazy to follow me back into the store, her baby on her hip, and her mouth spouting off, she did 2 things that told me a different story from the one I wrote in my mind there in the parking lot. And maybe they were little things, not even on most people's radars, but I've combed through every detail of that experience and these 2 things changed my mind about her as a mama:

1. She brought her baby back in with her.  That means she took the time to take her baby out of her car seat, and she carried her back into the store.  That was a calculated move.  She didn't just run after me and leave her kid in the car.
2. She came in with the full intention of telling me to mind my own business (in much different words), and she made her point very clear.  Even though I don't agree with her approach, I don't doubt for one second her ability to protect what is hers. 

Maybe those 2 things don't make her parent of the year, but as I went over the story I wrote in my head, I noticed those details standing out more and more to me.  If she had not come back inside to tell me off, I would never have witnessed those 2 details.  If she had just smarted off to me in the parking lot and then gone on her way, I would have marched my self-righteous know-it-all-first-time-mama-self into the store feeling proud and triumphant, I sure told her, she'll think before she treats her kid that badly again, right?  At least in public?  Oh yeah, I would have been proud of myself.  I may have even started a conversation with someone in the returns line about this crazy lady I saw on my way into the store.  

But she did come in after me.  And she defended herself, quite well I might add.  And had she only said one thing to me - "butt out" - I would have thought a bit more highly of her, only b/c the scene she made was ridiculous, but I'll say it again, to each her own.  And when your kid runs out into the street, IT SCARES THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF YOU.

And when your kid asks for an ICEE after behaving horribly all day, it might make you tell him to leave you alone and be quiet.  I'm just sayin'...

What I'm NOT saying is that your post isn't completely necessary or filled with relevant, seriously important stuff that ALL parents should work harder to remember.  B/c we should.  All of us.  We should all "take joy in everything that our kids are."  I agree 100%...except that unlike in The LEGO Movie (which I just took my son to tonight), everything [in life] isn't awesome.  Real life has real life moments.  Good ones and bad ones.  The bad ones don't destroy the joy...they help us to appreciate the joy even more...

That's all folks...







P.S. After I finished my post, I went back to SDL and noticed Dan's original post was written in 2010.  So I did some digging, and I found this anniversary post from 2011: http://www.danoah.com/2011/09/congratulations-you-just-broke-your-child-one-year-later.html.  Coincidentally, our experiences both took place in the same year, but my piece today is a reflection looking back as opposed to his, which was a reaction at the time it happened.  I think these 2 perspectives are different and complimentary, yet both really interesting and enlightening.  I especially love Dan's follow-up post b/c it gives a lot of insight as to why he was so impassioned at the time, of which I was unaware as I was writing my piece.  I'd like to thank you, Dan, for sharing your experience as well as your thoughts a year later, and while you were angry at yourself for "doing nothing," I've beaten myself up a million times for interfering. Ultimately, we both did what we thought was best at the time, and neither of us is any worse for it, but rather we both reflect more deeply and express much gratitude for what the experiences have taught us about ourselves...