The thing I have liked best about these Olympic games is the random shot of the moms in the audience...watching and holding their breath or closing their eyes not able to breathe as their child athlete performs. The athletes work almost their whole lives to reach these moments but it's the moms who really carry them on their shoulders. (Dads too and not to take anything away from them but since I am a mom I can comment on moms). You see the moms in all kinds of stressful positions from odd movements to completely covering their eyes or just walking out.
I understand. Because I am the mom of kids who play sports. Yeah it's not the Olympics but it doesn't matter. I stress over every game my kids have ever played in...baseball, soccer, football, basketball from little league to high school. You name it. My kids have played it.
Some of us moms are at it for years and years. We sit through hundreds of practices and games ready to celebrate the highs and console the lows. There are always enough of both.
For me there were plenty of both highs and lows. I have had to play psychiatrist to my ball playing sons so many times. I have wiped many tears of loss and embraced the glorious wins.
And yet one of my proudest moments would come at the last game of my son's baseball career. His last at bat in extra innings. Two men on base. The team was behind and needed a strong hit from my kid. I went into my usual stance: hands cupped, covering the eyes, jittery knees. When I heard the crack of the bat I immediately looked up and saw the ball sail out of the ball park. What ended up being my kid's last at bat of his baseball career turned out to be his first out of the park home run.
I don't remember how high in the air I leaped and how loud I screamed and how hard I cried and how many other moms hugged me. Time seemed to have stood still at that moment and all I could see was my kid proudly rounding the bases and his teammates waiting for him at home plate. I didn't cry for the points scored. I cried because I was proud that my son finally had his very own home run moment.
Us moms don't cry for the wins. We cry because we are proud that our kids work hard toward a goal and we cry hard when we watch them achieve it. We wouldn't have it any other way.