We always knew there would be tears.
Even though I claim to have a tough northern soul, there are moments in my children’s life when pride threatens to consume me and my body reacts by spilling water from my eyes. I can’t help it, it must be medical.
Sports Day 2015 was a day I had prepared for in the weeping stakes.
I didn’t disappoint myself…
I prepared in the usual way, sports bra under a loose top (so not to be obvious), trainers in my handbag (not on my feet – didn’t want to look competitive), plus tissues and sports drinks for the little ones.
I do love a Sports Day.
Sports Day 2014 had been hard, I failed to prepare for the mums race by forgetting to change my bra. Which meant I had to run with my then four-year old daughter in my arms whose small frame stopped my bosom leaping around like a slinky on an escalator.
I didn’t even place in 2014. The kids didn’t speak to me for a week.
Plus my nine-year old daughter was on crutches, struggling to walk, gripped with the pain of trying to fight complex regional pain syndrome.
Watching her limp on ahead of her classmates, struggle to complete a short walk with a head start was possibly one of my lowest points last year.
They say time is a healer – look at my girl now…
She flew up and down the field, no sign of the illness that she battled so hard to overcome. It was exhilarating to watch.
CRPS blighted our lives for almost a year and while I have not forgotten those long months, they only serve to remind me how to never take walking for granted and to be greatful for every step.
It was Libby-Sue’s first school sports day. How she has become old enough to almost be at the close of her first year at school confounds me daily. How far she has come in her short life amazes me always.
Anxiety has gripped me throughout Libby-Sue’s childhood, once upon a time I worried that she would never have the mobility to take part in a sports day.
Look at my beautiful baby now…
And of course, lets not forget my son. Who looks forward to sports day with the same gusto I do, who plans a strategy for the races, who cajoles his sisters into giving it their all.
He hasn’t had hip surgery, or fought a neurological disease. But he has lived with both, and he works just as hard to give it his all, and once again as he launched himself towards the finish line my heart simply swelled again.
I did begin saying I love Sports Day….
And the mum’s race?
They didn’t run it this year, I sat with the pain of a underwired sports bra on for the day for no reason; although I did enjoy jogging to the toilet without having to grip my chest.
Luckily the kids achievements dulled the pain of not competing…
Bring on Sports Day 2016 – we are ready for you.