I was full of nervous apprehension this morning. I tried to hide it so the children wouldn’t pick up on the butterflies that were zorbing through my stomach.
I had everything ready the night before, tuna pasta had been made for the kids breakfast, their kit was clean, and their shoes were gleaming.
Today ladies and gentleman was Sports Day.
We arrived at school with the rest of the parent paparazzi, the kids were given a team talk in the car by he who helped create them. None of this garbage about it’s the taking part that counts; we assumed the stance of bad parenting and told our five year old children to get their heads down, focus and aim for the finish line.
It was in the playground that I realised my first folly; I had left my running spikes at home which was going to give me a severe handicap for the mummy race. I considered missing twin girls first race to go home and retrieve them but he who helped create them felt that may cause tantrums at tea time.
Sprint was first, twin girl launched into action with Linford Christie legs, as she belted across the finish line in first place I broke the sound barrier with my cries of glee. Twin boy was less fortunate when his turn to race came, I take full responsibility, my supportive shouts were clearly a distraction as he turned to find me in the crowd and lost his chance for gold.
Still he recovered well for the egg and spoon race and cool as a cucumber he speed walked over the line declaring “I’m a winner.”
Twin girl went on to retain her pole position in both the space hopper race and skipping. Three races, three wins, can you imagine how much I danced and yelled? Me and he who helped create them are now seriously considering taking her out of school and allowing her to focus on her athletics to try to get a last-minute slot in next years olympics.
Then the moment I had been waiting for came; the mummy race. He who helped create them set a precedence by claiming silver in the Daddy race.
I approached the start line and started to strip to my pants and vest until one of the other mums pointed out that wasn’t necessary. I crouched into a sprinting start, laughing internally at the fools who were just taking a standing start approach.
The teacher called out GO and I set off with the music from chariots of fire pulsating through my head. Other mums pounded the grass beside me and it seemed we were all neck and neck. I don’t know how but two broke away from me and I watched their backsides mock me as I struggled to retain much-needed ground. Then it was over, I had shamed my family and after a year of practising sprints in the garden I had only managed to claim a bronze medal. Wiping the tears of frustration away I couldn’t even look the twins in the eye as I hurried back to my bench and the disapproving glare of he who helped create them.
To my family of golds and silvers I am one proud mummy, I am sorry for letting you down. Next year I will claim gold and glory will be ours!