The Boys of Summer

I haven't blogged in two weeks now--much of my time since summer officially started has been spent at baseball fields. . . which brings me to one of my latest musings and confessions. Confession first. I really like watching my kids play sports, and I am really proud of their abilities, and am brought close to tears everytime I see them high-five a teammate, take control of the mound, help another player, etc. The reason I write this as a "confession" is that in our sports-obsessed, "Soccer Mom," and every-Dad-knows-how-to-coach society, it has become completely un-PC to actually say that you are proud of your kids' abilities, or that you like to watch them play. Instead, the acceptable thing seems to be to spend ridiculous amounts of money on your kids sports, drive them to games 10 hours away, and burn them out, yet NOT actually say that you are getting something out of your child's sports involvement. Hm. Therein lies my musing. I hope that my husband and I are taking a balanced approach to our boys' lives, and therefore to their sporting lives as well, but I would also like to admit that while pregnant with both of them I prayed for them to simply be healthy, and I didn't necessarily ask God to send me athletes--but it sure is fun that they love to play as much as my husband and I do! So, while we watch the boys closely to make sure that they are kids first, I hope it is okay that I'm one proud Mama when my ten-year-old throws strikes or my eight-year-old cracks a double--and that it is equally okay that I've said it aloud.