I spent last Friday night in the grandstands at my former high school's homecoming football game. For years I chanted for our team, our mascot, and our school colors. But last Friday had me wearing different colors and cheering for a different mascot!" As far as fashion goes the new colors looked great...and I would gladly purchase some fan attire. But it just wasn't the same. Even though the game was held at "my" former stadium...I felt disconnected. I love watching the game so that part was fun, but as far as feeling the guttural urge to holler "DEFENSE!!"...well, I never really got there.
My kids and I sat right next to the 'student' section so that in itself was quite entertaining to say the least. I kept glancing over trying to read each face wondering which 'parts' they were playing. I tried to guess who was the (insert name here) of my high school class. I realized that they weren't acting immature...they were just acting their age. I wondered what my own kids would be like at that age. I remember living for Friday night football games. It was all about the boys and being seen and seeing others. The air was always crisp and energized. The darkness was always palpable.
Last night as the girls' mums jingled and the air horns blew I knew that I was in 'their' world...the world of high school. Last night I also knew that I was no longer one of them. Instead of accidentally on purpose scooting past a certain someone hoping to be noticed-I was doing my best not to make any eye contact whatsoever as I sandwiched myself between my son and daughter. Please don't see me -please don't see me I chanted to myself. My pants were too tight (not by choice) and my purse was too heavy (both major tell-tale signs that I was so far removed from being one of 'them' ). I chatted with the mothers of the players instead of the players themselves. And now, guess what, next Tuesday I will officially be sitting in the stands as the mother of a player myself...and I am fully ready to yell all night long...because when I do it'll be for my 8th grader!
My kids and I sat right next to the 'student' section so that in itself was quite entertaining to say the least. I kept glancing over trying to read each face wondering which 'parts' they were playing. I tried to guess who was the (insert name here) of my high school class. I realized that they weren't acting immature...they were just acting their age. I wondered what my own kids would be like at that age. I remember living for Friday night football games. It was all about the boys and being seen and seeing others. The air was always crisp and energized. The darkness was always palpable.
Last night as the girls' mums jingled and the air horns blew I knew that I was in 'their' world...the world of high school. Last night I also knew that I was no longer one of them. Instead of accidentally on purpose scooting past a certain someone hoping to be noticed-I was doing my best not to make any eye contact whatsoever as I sandwiched myself between my son and daughter. Please don't see me -please don't see me I chanted to myself. My pants were too tight (not by choice) and my purse was too heavy (both major tell-tale signs that I was so far removed from being one of 'them' ). I chatted with the mothers of the players instead of the players themselves. And now, guess what, next Tuesday I will officially be sitting in the stands as the mother of a player myself...and I am fully ready to yell all night long...because when I do it'll be for my 8th grader!
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