Mama Bear vs. Kids' Sports

Kids' sports were a big part of my day today, and really, have been a big part of my life for the past few years. I'm not a big sports person, you know? When I was a kid, I played soccer one year, played volleyball one year in Jr. High, and that was it. My husband isn't "sporty" either, really. We don't go to pro games or watch on TV.

But we like sports in theory. We agree that they are wonderful for a child's development - character, physical conditioning, mental growth and motor skills, and social networking. So we don't PUSH them, exactly, but we do encourage them. Mostly we have asked them to try new things throughout the years.

My daughter has played soccer and basketball, but has settled on gymnastics. She's taken gymnastics classes since she was 6 and competed for 3 years (this year she's doing cheer instead.) My son has done soccer, basketball, tae kwon do, floor hockey, and has settled on baseball and wrestling.

Boy, it's rough on "mama bear," here. Because in sports, kids tend to get hurt! It's unavoidable. We walk a mighty fine line between wanting to protect them and comfort them and needing to pat 'em on the head and say "go walk it off, you're fine."

Two years ago my daughter began jumping to the high uneven bar, which is terrifying to watch. Once during warm ups at a meet, she missed the high bar and fell ON HER HEAD. I sprinted over to her, panicked...then caught myself halfway there and stopped to see if she was OK before scooping her up like a toddler with a skinned knee and embarrassing her! She was fine. Sigh.

Right now she complains her back hurts; she may have pulled a muscle during cheer practice doing back handsprings. Back pain at age 11 is no small matter and I'm tempted to pull her out and take her to the ER! But instead I have to let her and her coaches decide, feed her Tylenol and give her a heating pad.

We had an incident today at my son's wrestling meet which really pitted my "mama bear" instinct against my resolve to teach my kids to be strong.

My son was up against another boy on his own team, a friend of his actually, who is a very strong, determined competitor. They are evenly matched, and watching them compete is exciting! Well, my son lost, but when he walked out of the ring, he was holding his stomach and wincing as if it hurt him badly.

Mama bear took over, envisioning internal bleeding and organ damage! I went over to him, kneeled down and asked him if he was OK. At 9, he's still a sweet, cuddly cherub to me, he's my youngest and I always feel like smothering him with kisses and carrying him around, but I must resist! He said he was all right, but his stomach felt "weird." He came up to where his dad was sitting, still clutching his belly.

I was shocked when my husband got angry with me for what I considered legitimate concern and maternal comforting! He said I was babying the boy and he was fine. Boy, was I mad. What if he's really hurt? I asked. Maybe we should take him to the urgent care?

We parted ways soon after that - driving separate cars, because I'd been at a cheer competition with my daughter earlier - still angry with each other. How, I wondered, could my husband be so cavalier about our son's sore belly?

He explained to me later why our son did it, and proved to me exactly why boys need fathers in their lives. My husband understood, and I had no clue.

You see, our son was crying. Apparently losing a wrestling match can be a very emotional experience for a young boy! It's not like playing a game of checkers, after all. Wrestling creates, and requires, an adrenalin rush -- it's a male domination game, and satisfies their natural need to express aggression! Losing is frustrating as hell, but it builds character in ways that a mere Mama Bear can only imagine. Girls really are wired differently.

My boy was feeling this emotional release, but he didn't want to actually cry, so he (not purposely, I'm sure) invented a physical reason for being so short of breath, red-cheeked and teary-eyed. He wasn't upset...no...it was his stomachache.

His father told him to take a deep breath, get back down there and congratulate his friend on the win. At the time I thought he was nuts - the boy was hurt, after all, he was in no condition to go talk to anyone! But Dad was right. Comforting our son for his tummyache at that time would be like coddling him and "poor baby-ing" him for losing.

It's good to learn how to lose.

It's also good to learn your limits, which means that at some point mama bear has to pull back and let her "cubs" experience some pain and figure out how to deal with it.

I heard a story today related to that. Last year at a cheer competition, one of the members of my daughter's cheer squad back-handspringed right off the mat and landed on her neck. She picked herself back up and, instead of walking tactfully off the stage, proceeded to finish her routine, complete with being the top of a stunt pyramid -- despite the fact that the top half of her body felt completely numb on one side. The girl was rushed to the hospital immediately after and spent two days there. She'd had a concussion and slight damage to her spine! But she is now legend in the squad because of her COMMITMENT. They won 1st place, don't you know.

You can go too far, and this is an example of doing just that.

If mama bear lets her cubs learn how to deal with pain and injury, they'd better also learn the proper balance between taking care of themselves and fulfilling team obligations.

This is something that most adults haven't learned.

It's a rough world, and there's much to figure out, but whatever happens, mama bear will always be on duty.