Eat my bubbles! Her bubbles, I mean.

I might have once had the makings of a competimommy, thanks to my firstborn who spoiled me with her propensity for overachievement.  Then CJ came along to take me down a notch.  It would be a tad illogical to talk up Tacy’s accomplishments (and by extension the assumption that I played a significant role in them) while CJ flailed and wailed.  So I kept quiet.

But I’ve found myself becoming a different kind of competimommy.  I’m the mommy with an excess of pride and a deficit of shame who screams her freaking head off as she watches her kid compete in the swimming pool.

I’m a good sport.  I don’t scream for Tacy to beat the kid in the lane next to her or jeer at the kids who don’t dive so much as they fall into the water with all four limbs extended.  I don’t encourage her to swim faster than her teammates, but to give her best effort – even if her best effort means keeping pace with swimmers who have faster seed times or remembering her two-hand touch at the end of the lane.  I cheer for her friends too, and congratulate them after their races.

Not all parents are good sports.  Some are downright frightening and abusive.

An October 2007 article in Reader’s Digest cites examples of parents who not only went after other adults after kids’ sporting events, but one dad who physically assaulted a child on the opposing team.  While violent incidents are relatively rare, I expect that nearly all parents with kids in sports has witnessed bad behavior on the part of another parent – either toward the coach or toward their own child.

Lindsay’s tale of George – complete with photos of his tantrum – illustrates how parents lash out at coaches.  When I read her post in late 2007, Tacy hadn’t yet begun playing any organized sports.  Now that she has, I’m even more appalled by George’s behavior toward the coach.  Youth sports coaches do it primarily for the love of the game and for the joy of sharing that love with kids.  Just like teachers and nurses, coaches deserve far more appreciation (and far less criticism) than they receive.

Likewise, parents are frankly far too invested in their children’s athletic successes, and I say this as a mom who loves to watch my daughter swim competitively.  I’ve seen parents at soccer games offer what I’m sure they consider to be encouragement, but it’s really just criticism.  I’ve seen kids cry after races, clinging to parents who look chagrined, comforted by coaches who pat them on the back and praise their efforts.  I’ve criticized Tacy myself, but in a positive manner: “Stop looking to the side to see where your competition is; just swim to the end of the lane and then you can look back at them!”

There’s something about seeing my own child work really hard and enjoy a measure of success – whether it’s winning her heat or nailing a dive or even finishing a race with her goggles around her nose, shrugging off all the congratulations afterward because in her mind there’s nothing unusual about what she’s done.  For us, it’s not about being the best, but doing her best.  As soon as she hops out of the pool, I wrap a towel around her and tell her how proud I am, no matter whether she’s come in first or last.  What’s important to me is that she had the guts to do it at all.

Perhaps the pleasure I take in Tacy’s successes makes me a competimommy.  But I’m not taking any credit for my child’s achievements.  Those are hers alone.

What do your children do that makes you so proud that you just might burst?

9 Spoke Up