The sun beats down on me as I sit on the sidelines. The vastness of the bright green playing field is filled in with players wearing blue and white jerseys, three stripes down the side of their shorts and across the tops of their socks. The ball pops here and there, in and out of bounds, over heads, into goals, and through the breeze that pushes tears around my face. I pull my hat further down and shift in the taupe spectator chair. I swirl the ice in my coffee and kick off my shoes. I have shut down.
My oldest son drifts in and out of action on the field. I watch him push and pull himself in response to the coach’s pleas.
Jamis, move up, son.
Jamis, move back, son.
Jamis, over there. Good job. Nice work, son.
I welcome the weight of the camera in my hands and snap a dozen pictures or so. Remembering my own days on the playing field, I yell get back and move up and get there first, don’t give up! I hear the noise of the other parents on the sidelines–cheering, laughing, clapping, chatting. It is rare to be here without the little boys in tow, and I take advantage of the solitude. I’ve placed my chair at the far end of the field where my kid plays defense, and at least twenty feet from the nearest spectator. I actually have the ability to focus on Jamis in his entirety and that is what I intend to do.
In my mind I will him to give this game his best effort. I imagine taking the field with him and carrying him when he needs to be carried. Giving his feet more life, scooping him up when he falls down and whispering encouraging words in his ear, words I hope he’ll learn to tell himself in times of struggle.
All at once dozens of tears cross paths on my face. It is not him on the field, but me. Twenty years ago. A girl on a field in a bright yellow jersey. Her dad on the sidelines, a long lens slung around his neck, a baseball cap perched awkwardly on his head. I remember glancing at him from my position in the backfield as he tried time and time again to capture the moment of me standing in a field of sun and breeze.
The memory rushes in. And with it the profound feeling of loss and love, together. I am speechless in front of it. I am that player. And that parent. All at once. And I realize, with more clarity than I’ve ever known, that this is how I was loved: from the sidelines. A girl on a field with a ball. A dad waiting in the wings.
And this is what we do. We watch. We cheer. We worry.
This is how we love–from the sidelines.
It takes courage to do it well, to find the balance between being a teammate and being a mom. To find the courage to go to sleep with tears and wake up with a smile. To find the courage to show my kids how to live their best life, even if I haven’t quite got it all figured out myself.
I gave my parents hell. I really did. And for so much of my life all they could do is watch and cheer and worry. They couldn’t fix my past or my present, they couldn’t launch me into my future the way that I’m sure they would have liked. They could just sit. And love me. From the sidelines of my life.
And though I will cheer and clap for my kids. Though I will nurture and nourish, kiss and hug and love, give guidance, direction and suggestion, their lives will become their own. Their approach to challenge, defeat and victory will not always mirror my own. And I must have the courage to wake up every day and be my best self, knowing that this is all I can be for them. This is all I can ask of myself to give to them–the best me in the minutes that I am with them; the best me for a Monday or a Tuesday or a tomorrow, without comparing it to yesterday.
Parenting takes an inordinate amount of courage. There are many days I think that I might fold and tumble and give in to the insecurity of it all. But then there are moments of feeling so truly connected to my past, and my own parents, and finding a sense of clarity in it all. Realizing that I was once the kid on the field, and that in many ways, I still am. Realizing that my parents could only love me from the sidelines, and that in many ways, this remains true. And these moments carry me through an hour or a day. They give me new little mantras to turn over in my mind.
I will love my children fiercely and without apology. I will love them how I was loved, from the sidelines.
*****
Now let the linking begin! Please submit the full URL to your post (instead of just the main page domain). And remember, if you choose to write more than one post on Courage because, say, you were inspired by one of the other entries or have something else to add, feel free.
Also, please consider subscribing to the comments (just check the little box under the Comment Field). Let’s face it, the real magic behind Five for Ten is in the discussion that surrounds all of our posts and ideas. You can come back time and time again to comment on comments and reply to replies. I would encourage you to do so!
I am so honored that you all are here. Thank you. From the bottom of my very full heart.
Read More in motherhood, oldest child, Sarah Writes, three kids
Add a Comment
← Previous Comments
It does take courage to parent, to be stuck on the sidelines, willing yourself not to take over, to interfere.
You’re doing good, mama. Some days I don’t think that I’m up for it, either, but this is the choice we made. xoxo
.-= TheKitchenWitch´s last blog ..Veg-Head Monday: Zucchini Stuffed Tomatoes =-.
It SURE is the choice me made. And I know it was a choice and all but really, could someone find a way to give an appropriate heads up to soon-to-be moms. WithOUT freaking them out.
That’s a ridiculous thought. There IS no way. It’s not like we can be tossed on to the field for a scrimmage before we take OUR own field as mothers. And the shit of it all? There’s no fucking substitutes. That part gets me every.single.day. Just me. And them.
xoxo indeed!
This is such a nice post. My father died three years ago and so many of my memories are of him, standing on the sidelines of my life, rooting me on. For him, it really was hard to not step in and insert himself into more of my decisions.. but he was brave enough to let me choose for myself and then cheer for me no matter what. Thanks for giving me a moment to think abotu that today…
Can’t wait to post about courage tomorrow and join the discussion!
.-= Rachel @ MWF Seeking BFF´s last blog ..An Age Old Question =-.
Once, when I was 17 or something, and decided I would take a bus from New York to Iowa, and essentially run away from home, my father drove me to the bus station, bought me a round-trip ticket (even though I “wasn’t coming back”) and tucked some money into my mind.
The day before he had tried to bribe me with various things so that I would stay. And when he realized I was serious all he could do was stand by and give me the only thing he could, a strong hug and a handful of cash. I hate that I put him through that and I can’t imagine having to do it myself some day. That’s love, baby. And Fear. All at once.
It takes tremendous amount of strength and courage to not attempt to make your child’s decisions for them. Even when you know the outcome will be bad, you have to let them make that choice. It is heart wrenching and you know how to make it all better (or prevent it). Having the courage to not say anything is hard, but essential.
Essential, the perfect word to use. Because it is factual, unemotional, even when everything else about parenting is. Too much so, at times.
Thank you for facilitating this conversation. When I first started thinking about “courage” I told myself I would try not to link it to being a mother/parenting, but this is where my writing took me. As a parent, it takes courage to love so fiercely, not knowing what you might get in return. But I guess, in the end, it doesn’t matter what you get in return. What a lovely post (makes me miss my dad too!)
I did the same exact thing. I tried to write about me. Just me. Not a mother. Just a woman. Just in reflection of my life. But I couldn’t. For better or for worse, mothering IS my life. Right now, with young young kids, it is my life all the time. And while exhausting, it’s the first thing I think about when I sit down to write. Because so much of it is so hard, and I write so that I don’t resent the hard and I instead embrace the beauty of it.
Wow, Sarah. This really perfectly captures something I’ve been trying to put my finger on. That aspect of being a parent that is distinctly different than being a friend. The challenge, the heartbreak, the courage of saying what you know you must say as a mom instead of what you want to say as a friend. Like disciplining your child – you’re really rather avoid it, but that doesn’t help in the long-run. It’s painful and sad, but necessary. Courage, without a doubt.
.-= Eva @ Eva Evolving´s last blog ..Mother-in-law of steel =-.
I like that you’ve so clearly brought up the parent vs. friend thing. It’s hard, as the mom, not to want to swoop in and be the friend. Especially when you know your kid is really in need of a friend. It’s easier to overlook the things that need disciplining because, as a mom, you are already mourning that friend part. And the trickiest thing is balancing everything that you have to be with everything that you want to be … for you kids.
Oy, am no exhausting just thinking of everything I do and feel in a day for these little buggers.
I just said to a friend the other day that I want, with every fiber of my being, to get off the sidelines and make sure my kids are okay. All the time. Forever. But that’s not the way it works, is it?
I will do my best to equip them for the bad days. And in the mean time, I want them to have innumerable good days.
What a lovely post. Parenting is the definition of courage.
Happy first day of Five for Ten!
Thanks for joining us, Missy.
And no, that’s not the way it works. Fortunately, I had a great role model in my parents, and I seem to have turned out okay. :)
OK, I’m new here, so I’ll just jump in with something a little contrary, as I am wont to do.
I really loved your post on loving from the sidelines. But it got me thinking: Does anyone else out there think that perhaps one of the hard things about parenting is this:
that once we have kids, it’s not about *us* anymore?
I mean, it’s *about* us insofar as we have to work our tails off to be able to parent effectively. But when you get right down to it, really the very best parents are the ones who dissolve into the background — who become the supportive, loving background — so that their children can really shine forth?
Being an achiever and a striver and a plucky little girl takes a whole lot of bravery, and I spent the whole first part of my life in just that vein. But now I discover that it takes a whole different sort of courage to dissolve into the crowd so that my kids can take their turns at bat (or at whatever it is they are going to find that they most love to do.)
Thanks for the inspiration.
.-= Launa´s last blog ..Provence Rainbow =-.
Launa,
I’m going to be daring as well with my reply to your comment…I think we are actually saying the same thing. The sidelines analogy, for me, is saying exactly that…that we are finding the courage to dissolve into the outskirts of our kids lives. But dissolve does not mean that we have to be silent, right? Communication is my number one priority in this house. Something I think we lacked in my own family growing up, and something I am keenly aware of. Communication and the utmost honesty. To do that I still need to be a participant in their lives in some way, and on some days that “way” is in being the spectator only.
Thanks for joining us here.
I find it takes the most courage in the quiet moments, in being a parent, in taking a risk on yourself. Thank you so much for the inspiration. I have been facing writer’s block for awhile, and this is just the solution to get the juices flowing again. Of course I may have to have the courage to write crap for awhile until the flow comes again, but it will come. Thanks.
.-= Corina ´s last blog ..Engagement =-.
Beautiful. I can’t think of anything that hasn’t already been said, so I’ll just leave it at Beautiful.
and
Thanks!
.-= goofdad´s last blog ..The Talk =-.
I love the idea of intentionally parenting from the sidelines. Many times I think some parents do it from the sidelines out of necessity, but when you do it with purpose it is more about letting your children figure things out for themselves, and also figure out when they need to turn around and ask for help. I hope to do this with my girls. I know it’ll be harder in the moment, but if I can keep the helicopter from spinning above them then I’ll feel like I did an okay job.
Sarah,
When we mother babies, we are so involved that it is hard to distinguish where they end and where we begin. You are right, the challenge becomes a delicate dance. How much to interfere, how much to let them discover their own mistakes, when to swoop in and save.
But, like everything else, you learn as you go. What works with one doesn’t necessarily work with any of the other ones. It is like working with endless ingredients, trying to come up with the perfect combination: not too spicy, not too sweet, not too salty.
Beautiful post. Thank you for the vivid picture you painted with your words!
.-= Maria´s last blog ..Like the Cowardly Lion, I want Courage =-.
I think it’s the days after the ones where I almost “fold and tumble” that find me at my most courageous … when I somehow find the strength to get up and do it all again, when I push away the mistakes and the worries and the tiredness and just plow ahead. It’s just as you said: I’m trying to be the best me I can be for my children.
.-= Stacia´s last blog ..Five for Ten: Courage =-.
Gotta tell ya’…I’m right there with ya, sister. .. right there. As my girls get older, the further up the bleachers I feel. I thank God every day for the time I have with them, and the relationship we share, and that often, they invite me onto the field. For that, I am very grateful. It takes a courage I never knew I had. Great post, great food for thought. Very well written. I really love this blog carnival idea…thanks for hosting!
.-= Janine´s last blog ..May Moving Madness!!! =-.
I was so touched by this post–it’s amazing how we share such an exact feeling in common. But even as we share it in common with each other, our children share it with us. The courage our children show to walk onto the soccer field away from us mirrors the courage to stay right where we are. We all show such strength in growing and growing up.
Diana’s last blog ..There’s courage in that there lovey
Oh girl. first of all, beautiful post. Beautiful thoughts and sentiment and it really resonated with what I’ve been thinking about lately as far as kids and parents (and being both right now) goes.
I thought about trying to join in on this 5 for 10, but the number of people involved and the number of comments to digest feels overwhelming. So I popped by to read, I skipped straight to the comment box to leave this, and I have to click away. This is not a dig at anyone’s time-prioritizing, but I honestly just don’t get where people can carve out the time it would take to really engage in this? I ask out of envy, not judgement.
Ok, I gave myself 20 minutes of online time for the night (the WHOLE night) and then I have to get some work done and go squeeze my hubby. But I adore your writing and your blog, and I’m sorry I don’t have what it takes to engage in this, although the appeal is strong.
Love to you and Jen and the whole gang here. xoxo
.-= Elizabeth (@claritychaos)´s last blog ..Mother’s Day Eve =-.
Elizabeth, I hear ya! I am glad I joined, but it is extremely time-consuming. To be honest, I went to work and for 5 out of 8 hours I read and commented on blogs. I feel guilty, but I coudn’t help myself! And there’s no way that I ever could have done it all from home this evening! BTW, I really enjoy your blog!
.-= ShannonL´s last blog ..Five for Ten: Supergirl =-.
I know….I logged in and there are 136 comments to read. Trying to make my way through as many as I can tonight but not sure I’ll be able to keep up with the posts.
Maybe a word limit per blog post would help?
Maybe we should break into teams?
I love the idea of this…..if I could just find a way out of working…
.-= Jane Swinglehurst´s last blog ..Wanted: Courage needed in 4 – 6 weeks =-.
It is so hard to not “do” for them, isn’t it? To watch them struggle, to learn something new. As my kids are getting older, I see so much more how I am just on the side. These are their lives, and no one else’s.
“I will love my children fiercely and without apology.” – Your words reflect how I feel about my own children. People may think I am tough – yet they have only dealt with me in politics.
My mom and my grandma taught me about fierce love: my grandmother actually stopped dying to tell my mother she loved her. The nurse rushed in to find out what was happening, and there sat my grandma in bed, a normal heartbeat. My mom, the nurse and I were all astounded.
Grandma died later that afternoon, after my sister arrived. She was surrounded by my mom, my sister and me.
Thank you for a wonderful post!
.-= Andrea @ Shameless Agitator´s last blog ..Courage and Fearlessness =-.
Hello Everyone.
First of all, I want to say that I am absolutely overwhelmed by the amazing response to Five for Ten: Day ONE! I know it will be difficult, but I hope we can keep the energy alive for the next ten days.
Secondly, please know that I will respond to all of your comments here eventually, but I wanted to get started on reading your posts. Because that’s the stuff that matters the most.
If we continue to get more participants, Jen and I just may have to amend the rulebook. Either that or I’ll quit my job (gladly, ahem!).
Thank you so much for making this day a-mazing.
You can look for something shorter and sweeter from Jen in the morning. Until then, picture me…on the couch…the tv muted but on…feet up…laptop on…typing typing typing away.
I’ve never thought of parenting as coaching, loving from the sidelines. I guess it’s because my kids are still pretty little and I have to be in the game helping orchastrate everything still. My oldest is 2.5, though, so there have been glimpses of coaching from the sidelines, loving as he makes his choices, trying to cheer him on.
And I think this is probably the most challenging part of my children growing older. I’m so used to being in the game with them. I’m so used to rescuing and directing and guiding right there with them, that the thought of doing it from the sideline — well, you said it best, it takes courage to be that kind of parent.
Thought provoking and eloquent. Thank you for sharing. I hope to join in on the conversation with my own courage post tomorrow.
Life comes full circle. These moments have become THE moments for me. The ones when I feel the weight of what it means to be human. Being both the watcher and the watched, all at once. In these moments we are our fullest selves. Thanks for this and got Five For Ten !!!
I agree, it is definitely hard to stay on the sidelines. Especially when you know exactly what they need and they can’t see it yet. But the courage to let them learn now gives them courage later!
.-= Charlotte´s last blog ..Lump of coal for Mother’s Day? =-.
Great post!
This point really resonated with me: “To find the courage to show my kids how to live their best life, even if I haven’t quite got it all figured out myself.”
Because when we do that we show our kids are vulnerability and we show them we do not have our shit all together. And really, that’s a great gift and lesson…that we should keep moving forward and challenging ourselves and being brave, even though we might make mistakes along the way.
.-= Liz @ Peace, Love & Guacamole´s last blog ..Sunday Grace =-.
I love what’s happening over here. This post made me think of being the terrible athlete at summer camp forty years ago, and then discovering soccer (which no one cared about back then). I was great at defense and ended up winning some sort of “best at soccer” award or something (so I guess my counselor was watching, since my parents didn’t come with me to sleep-away camp).
Then I had a kid and he turned out to be good at soccer at a time when people cared just a little more about it—and it was his entry into the social life of childhood (something I lacked).
I think I mostly lived childhood on the sidelines, so I feel rather used to parenting being not about me either. To me, just being part of the group really rocks, so I’m going to post, in my own fashion, on courage and jump into this thing tomorrow.
Namaste
I just realized that I have commented on over forty different blogs today and forgot to comment on your post. Beautiful, poignant and lovely. To find yourself in exactly the position a parent should be, cheering and supporting your child as he finds his own way through HIS journey of life. So perfect and oerfectly courageous!
.-= Shawna´s last blog ..Without Borders =-.
What a cool perspective of your role in your children’s life. Its respectful and not intrusive.
I think we often forget that we may have created them, but it doesn’t give us the right to control them. Our job is to love them.
It takes an enourmous amount of courage to be a parent. I think more than we could ever know when we first get pregnant.
Beautiful piece. Thank you for sharing.
Now for my disclaimer….my piece on Courage is certainly not my best writing. But it is where my head went when I thought of the topic, courage.
http://mummyjanie.wordpress.com/2010/05/10/wanted-courage-needed-in-4-6-weeks/
I just stumbled upon this site and am excited to join in. I’m always looking for challenging writing topics.
Your post was lovely. Sideline parenting is very difficult these days, what with all the helicopters hovering around..
.-= Cheryl´s last blog ..Courage is within all of us =-.
You got me crying now too. At my desk. Luckily everyone has their heads buried in policy work and salads. This is a lovely picture you have painted and a moment I can feel.
.-= Camille Bright-Smith´s last blog ..RIDE =-.
Courage is taking a leap. When it comes to childbearing that leap felt so
natural. It’s some of the child rearing that feels like a giant leap.
It’s the worry about the unknown that keeps me up at night.
And the part about letting go. That’s a huge leap. I know I’ve loved, but have a taught enough, let them fail enough?
Beautifully said. My favorite line: “To find the courage to go to sleep with tears and wake up with a smile.” That hit home as being completely true and so utterly important.
.-= Meredith´s last blog ..Mother’s Day, Sort Of. =-.
PS I’m calling us all Momalomalites. You should put that on the next t-shirt!
.-= Natalie´s last blog ..five for ten: courage =-.
Another beautiful post! It reminds me of a thought I had about being in someone’s corner, doesn’t mean to be his/her yes-man, but to give encouragement and teach when that person makes a mistake. You’ve added a whole new layer to that thought because we have to love from the corner; we cannot join the fight.
.-= faemom´s last blog ..I angered the karma gods =-.
Sorry I am a day late in commenting. I just joined the ranks of a parent on the sidelines watching my son play his first game. It is so true that it takes courage to be a parent, it can be a daunting job. And then be such a rewarding experience out of the blue too. Great post!
.-= Heather @ One Take On Life´s last blog ..Courage to admit =-.
Courage is… figuring out how to link to something. The first link I submitted wasn’t right, so I just did it again. Oopsies!
Back to you. Again, this dovetails so much into my own thoughts today. All I could think was, “parenting takes courage.” We were obviously thinking along the same lines (or sidelines). In any case, yes. I hear you. I agree.
.-= Mama´s last blog ..Courage =-.
Ah, I so get this!!
Some of my most anxious moments are watching my kids perform, or watching them strive toward a goal without my help.
.-= Gibby´s last blog ..Happiness =-.
I popped over here from Elastamom and I’m so glad I did. Wish I would have sooner so I could have joined in the fun. Next time for sure. I might take some of the topics even if I’m not positing on the right dates.
Loved your post. It really makes you think. For me watching my kiddo on the soccer or baseball field has never evoked those types of emotions… now sending him out the door to school is an entirely different story. Something to ponder thats for sure!
Courage is such an integral part of parenting, especially having the courage to let them go, make their lives separate from me, let them figure it out for themselves, make their own mistakes, and hopefully learn from them and become stronger…. My kids are all becoming independent too fast….it’s so hard to let go……I feel left behind! It’s almost as if I’m at a point where my job is done, and they are on their own. What do I do now? I have to find the courage to move on, make a life separate from theirs. Yea, they’ll always be around, but they don’t NEED me anymore like they used to. I’m no longer the center of their world. Who am I, now that my job is almost done? What is my purpose now?
← Previous Comments