Saturday, February 9, 2013

A Childhood Spent on the Sidelines

The busyness of the weekend left one little guy exhausted.

Collin pulled up to the breakfast table this morning.

"What are we doing today," he asked.

I rattled off the day's schedule.  Cooper's basketball game at 8 a.m.  Pickup Connor from a slumber party at 9:15.  Connor's swim meet at noon until (typically infinity).

He listened and then questioned what he would be doing during those hours.  

"Well," I paused.  "You'll be watching your brothers."

After the words leapt from my mouth, I thought how that statement summarized his little life.  He's the fourth born, the baby of the family.  He doesn't participate or play.  He watches his brothers.  He rides along.  He spends his time in the car.  He was born into the position of a spectator.

He doesn't complain about this things, because he doesn't know any different.  He doesn't know that there are kids out there his very age that don't spend nearly as much time in the car and actually play on their own sports teams.

He doesn't know it, but I do.  I'm overwhelmed with mommy guilt.  I wonder if Collin will have any memories of his childhood that don't revolve around being strapped into a car seat or plunked down into a folding chair on the side of a sports field.

I try to tell myself he'll be a better man because of it.  He'll be adaptable.  flexible.  supportive.

Or bitter. angry.  destined for therapy.

Guilt floods back.


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