My little mommy

It’s mother’s day, and while I don’t think I’ve ever done a call out on the bloggity blog for my little mommy, I should. This blog is all for her, you know.

My very first sport was swimming, a love affair that lasted about 16 years. My older brother started first (or was it my sister, the oldest of us 3? Maybe they started at the same time) and I would go to practice with my mom. She would sit on the hard benches that lined the windows that lined the pool, and I would walk up and down the length of the pool on the outside of the windows, following my brother as he swam laps with the swim team. Sometimes he would make faces at me from the water, and I really wanted to be in the pool too, just 'cause he was there.

At some point, age 6 I think, I joined too. And Mom continued to sit on those uncomfortable benches, either the round rust orange plastic things that only two people who knew each other could fit on, or the long wooden benches with narrow slatted seats that three or four people could use. She would talk to the other swim mothers, or sometimes run errands, but just about every night she’d be there, watching us through the window. It never occurred to me that not everyone’s mother did this. She was always there.

In high school, I went out for the cross country team. I wasn’t a particularly good runner (slightly above average, which is the kind of swimmer I was too, and the kind of cyclist I am), but it was fun, and we didn’t have a swim team. She came to every meet, cheering her little heart out. Again, not many other runners’ parents made these trips. But she travelled all over the metro area to watch me run these silly 20 minute events.

I think it was my sophomore year she decided we needed to revive the swim team, which had been axed a few years prior, and she started a campaign to raise money for a team. She gathered a bunch of friends and had a silent auction and petitioned businesses and put a boatload of work into it. She raised the money, convinced the school board we needed a team for both high schools in the district, and I’m not sure I ever thanked her. THANK YOU MOMMY.

I swam through college, although the last year was a bit of a joke, as I had discovered cycling by that point. If we had a meet in a 3 hour radius of the greater St. Louis area, Mom would be there. Again, I don’t think I ever thanked her. I don’t suppose parents expect that of their kids (having no children, how would I know?), but it needs to come out at some point. THANK YOU MOMMY!

Even when I started cycling in college, she came to the events she could. One year the team wanted to borrow our mini-van to get us to the regional championships, 9 hours away. "Sure," she said, "so long as I can come with you!" So we had team mom for the whole weekend. Maybe (probably) (most likely) my teammates thought this was weird, I don't remember, but it didn't strike me as strange in the least. Mom always came to my events, why should this be any different? :-)

I’m (mostly) Grown-Up now. I don’t have swim meets any more. I live 10 hours away from my parents. Mom’s only seen me race my bike once a year for the past 10 years. I write this blog so she can have a blow by blow of the races she's missing. Lately I've been doing a pretty piss poor job on updating, but I'm going to try to do better.

THANK YOU MOMMY for your steadfast support of your slightly above average girl. Happy Mother’s Day, even if every day should be Mother’s Day.