I sometimes wonder what my mother sacrificed to be a mother. I hear stories from Mom’s childhood and teen years and try to rectify the various versions of the mother. Mom had been the first in her family to go to college. She majored in Physical Education. Mom was an athlete and a teacher. She was on a bowling league, yet I don’t recall my family ever going bowling. Mom willingly left all of that behind when she had children. I am certain she would not have changed the life she had even if she could have. I’m a mom, so I get it. If someone needed shoes, Mom went without. If there wasn’t enough dinner, Mom skipped out on seconds. If we needed to be somewhere, Mom gave up her time. I’m sure Mom would have told you all that she gained in raising children, but nevertheless, it came with sacrifices, the kind of sacrifices that happen gradually over the years and end with you waking up one day unable remember who you once were because it has been so long since you did anything just because you loved it.
Being born in 1940, it seems to me that it wasn’t probably very common for girls to be playing baseball with the boys in the neighborhood. That never stopped Mom. My aunt Peggy and Mom, only a year apart, grew up on the neighborhood sports field, holding their own with the boys. I’ve heard stories about Mom’s ball playing days and even found a few snapshots, Mom’s high school yearbook has a single page dedicated to the girl’s inter-mural sports teams, and there in the middle is my not quite 5 foot tall mother playing basketball. Basketball.
Our family rarely watched sports growing up. The entire idea of Sunday afternoon football was a concept completely foreign to me. It wasn’t until I got into college that I even realized that football was such a big deal in America. Our family might watch the Super Bowl and the World Series, but that was about all the sports we ever saw on television. We were too poor to be spending money on tickets to professional sporting events and the minor league stadiums of today weren’t such a thing in the 80’s. Our parents didn’t push us into sports, and none of us was particularly athletic. In reflecting on my own childhood, I recall that it was always Mom that played catch with us when we were growing up, but even those times were few and far between. My three years playing in the town softball league in which I only played the minimum single inning probably made me the athlete in our home.
Looking back, I suspect that Mom lost that part of herself during her years as a wife and mother. Dad’s sporting interests were limited to more unusual endeavors (such as caving, boating, shooting, and martial arts, back before every kid in America was a black belt by the age of 7). Dad was more participant than observer. After the loss of my father and without the time constraints of raising children, Mom found a bit of herself again in sports. In the last decade of her life, Mom blossomed into the avid Philadelphia sports fan she had been suppressing all these years. She rekindled this mutual love that she shared with her sister. The Phillies and the Eagles were their teams. She wore the colors, bought the merchandise, and faithfully coached them from her armchair. I can’t say that this kind of devotion to a sports team is something I understand, but there was some beauty in seeing Mom rediscover this part of her life again. At the time, I would have denied there being anything beautiful in a grown woman yelling at a television set, but the beauty was found in the passion rather than the presentation. Mom taught me a lot about the sacrifices of motherhood, but she also showed me a better way. It’s never good to lose yourself completely, and it’s never too late to find you passion.
Dec 8
Me: I think counseling is really necessary. Mom is moving around her deflated balloon so the Eagles can see it better. Then she unbuttoned her jacket so they could see her shirt. She suggested walking over to her house to get her mug.
Sharon: Lol. Whatever works for the win.
Eric: Sports insanity is an all too common ailment. I have never understood it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to hunting monsters on my Xbox, or else the villagers of Flotsam will be slaughtered.
Sharon: Isn’t the commercial: It’s only weird if it doesn’t work.
Me: Mom just got up and did the butt dance from that commercial. I am scarred
The Eagles won, so the crazy was just reinforced. No words!